He marched back to the house, beaming, waving at cars. Ten minutes later, grunting and sweating, forcing his now-criminal fingers deep into the happy and horny-making mass of silk and cotton that was Chloe's hamper, thinking he might not, in an instance as unique and special as this, be above trying some of these items on, his knuckles struck something hard. Hello. What was this? He fumbled for it, got a hand on it, pulled it up from the musky depths. It was...a videotape! What could it be? Well it could be just about anything!
With no hesitation whatsoever he trotted the thing down the cedary-smelling hall to the living room, marching gleefully, knees lifted high. He squatted in front of the dusty TV/VCR combo, stabbed his finger at power buttons, heard gears whir to life, shoved the tape into a slot that sucked it in and swallowed it up, mmm, yum-yum, mmm.
And then, suddenly, after twenty seconds of fuzz, rolling lines and white noise, he saw...Chloe! This was too good!
But where was she? What was this she was doing?
She was sitting at what looked like a folding card table, in some ugly wood-paneled room, in front of -- wow -- a big Texas state flag thumbtacked to the wall behind her. It appeared there was also a big plate of...spaghetti in front of her. Which Chloe -- virtual Chloe, pixelated Chloe, who had just shot a ferocious look at whoever was behind the camera, like he (Matt already knew somehow it was a he) was gonna owe her big for this one -- picked up a fork and laid into, gobbling away.
Then Matt's initial suspicion there was potential here for some weird fuckin' shit to happen was suddenly realized, as the person -- indeed male -- behind the camera, watching Chloe, shouted, apropos of nothing, "Ooh baby yeah!" Matt, squatting there, feeling the swelling evil that had entered the scene, made a weird noise in the back of his throat, hunkered lower, not sure if he really wanted to be seeing this, man.
