Heart Breaker, Dream Maker by Jason M. Hardy

[Note: The transcript below was edited by Sanders Tuck, producer of the Occult Consultant radio program. To enhance the reader’s experience, Mr. Tuck occasionally added descriptions to the dialog. Mr. Tuck takes all responsibility for the characterizations contained in these descriptions.]

Thursday, February 14, 11:06 PM

SFX: George Thorogood & the Delaware Destroyers’ version of “Who Do You Love?” (looped version featuring opening guitar riff and Thorogood singing “Who Do You Love?”).

SANDERS: Yeaaahhhhh boyeee!

OLIVER: This is it, folks. Kids have Christmas, drunks have St. Patrick’s Day, and those of us who consult people in pain have Valentine’s Day. I can’t go anywhere without drowning in waves of pain—for a psychic, it’s like walking through a monsoon of misery out there. And we’re going to relieve as much as possible right here, right now with our annual Valentine’s Day Special.

Let’s take some Secret Crush callers right off the bat. Now, before you dial anything, let me lay down the ground rules: One—no one gets more than a minute; two—if I feel you’re wasting my time or presenting unnecessary information, I reserve the right to cut you off without warning or apology; and three, remember—you’ve got questions and I’ve got the answers you really, really want. So you’d better be nice. Sanders, are the calls lined up for segment one?

SANDERS: Like sugar addicts at a Krispy Kreme shop.

OLIVER: Let me have it.

SANDERS: Here’s Elvin Stowalter.

ELVIN: Oliver? Hi! First time caller, longtime listener. Love you, love your . . .

SFX [Francesca Annis from Roman Polanski’s Macbeth]: Out, out damned spot!

OLIVER: Time, people, time! It’s of the essence. No wasting it! Next!

SANDERS: Bethany Grable, you’re up.

BETHANY: There’s a guy at work, I can’t say his name, but he’s in R&D, very athletic, and I’ve had my eye on him for a while. What are my chances?

OLIVER [pauses, takes a deep breath] Good. Good, if you play it right. Wear the black tank top, ask him to play raquetball, very casual. That’ll get you on the right foot. Next!

SANDERS: Charlie Millet is next.

CHARLIE: Hi, Oliver. I just broke up with a girlfriend I had for a while, so I’m on the market for the first time in a while, and I figure some of the people I know have been, you know, waiting for this to happen? Waiting for me to become available? Because I’m kind of a catch, if you know what I mean. So what I need to know is, are there any hot babes that were just dying for me to be single?

OLIVER: Good God, no. Next!

SANDERS: This is Jaron Damphyr.

JARON: Question: The Thin Man or Beat the Devil?

OLIVER: Nine times out of ten, The Thin Man. But for the woman you’re thinking about, Beat the Devil. And make a lot of popcorn for everyone, but keep some of it unbuttered—she’ll appreciate that. Next!

SANDERS: Alicia Karazyk on line three.

ALICIA: Who’s been sending me flowers the past two months?

OLIVER: Your mother.

ALICIA: Well, same to you pal . . .

OLIVER: Wait, wait, wait. We need to slow down. This’ll take more than a minute, something’s not right here. Alicia, tell me again, how long have you been getting flowers?

ALICIA: Two months.

OLIVER: Two months, two months. All right. The most recent batch—actually, batches from the past few weeks—are from your mother.

ALICIA: My mother?

OLIVER: Your mother. She thought you were really enjoying the flowers, and she thought you’d be heartbroken if they didn’t keep coming, so she sent them herself.

SANDERS: How did her mother know the flowers wouldn’t be coming?

[Dead air]

ALICIA: Hello? Am I still on?

OLIVER: Yes, yes, sorry. I’m just trying to recover from the shock of hearing Sanders ask a relevant question.

Your mother seems to have known something, but I’m not sure what. I need your help—put some pictures in your mind of guys you know. It doesn’t matter if you think they’ve been sending you flowers or not, just run through their pictures like a bunch of mug shots.

ALICIA: Okay.

OLIVER: Sanders, some music to distract the masses while I exercise my abilities.

SFX [Neil Diamond singing]: It used to be so natural

To talk about forever

But used-to-bes don’t count any more

They just sit on the floor

‘Til we sweep them away.

OLIVER: All right, all right, turn that off. You know my Barry Manilow policy.

SANDERS: That was Neil Diamond, not Barry Manilow.

OLIVER: What I’m saying is, my Barry Manilow policy is now extended to include Neil Diamond.

SANDERS: What about “I’m a Believer”? The Monkees’ version?

[pause]

OLIVER: Hmmmm. I’ll have to refine the policy.

ALICIA: Are you still working on my question?

OLIVER: Indeed I am, indeed I am. Here’s what I sensed. Your mother knew the flowers weren’t coming because she had some inside information from one of the senders, a man with a common name like Bob or Bill with whom you used to have a close connection but now you’ve drifted away.

ALICIA: That’s probably Rick, my ex.

OLIVER: Yes, that’s him, that’s the guy. He sent you some flowers, but then stopped because he had a fight with you recently.

ALICIA: Yeah. He’s close to my mother, right? And two or three weeks ago, I told him I thought he was using my mother to stay close to me, to try to get an opening. I told him I didn’t like him using my mother like that. [pause] I may have been a little harsh.

OLIVER: Considering the fact you called him a “soul-sucking parasite,” I’d agree that maybe you were a little harsh.

ALICIA: How did you . . .

SFX [Pee-Wee Herman from Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure] There are things about me you wouldn’t understand. Things you couldn’t understand. Things you shouldn’t understand.

OLIVER: So this is why your mother sent you flowers, because she knew Rick had sent you some but wasn’t going to anymore, and she didn’t want you to be disappointed. We all clear so far?

SANDERS: I’m with you. But why was Rick sending her flowers?

OLIVER: Well, naturally, deep down, his reason for sending flowers was the same as any person’s reason for sending anyone flowers—sex.

SANDERS: What about people sending flowers when someone dies?

OLIVER: That’s the only exception, and even then sometimes the core motive is there. But I digress. The strategy was, Rick would impress you by taking over the role of secret admirer from the guy who started it, and weasel his way back into your heart.

ALICIA: Okay—and the guy who started it was . . . .

OLIVER: An actual secret admirer. Ronny from sales is what I’m getting. He sent you flowers for a couple of weeks, then one morning Rick, who heard about the flowers from you when you called him to taunt him that you had an admirer, intercepted and intimidated Ronny. He then took over Ronny’s role.

ALICIA: Ronny? Ronny was the original secret admirer?

OLIVER: Yep.

SANDERS: Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

ALICIA: Um . . . it’s a thing. But Rick intimidated him? And Ronny won’t be a secret admirer any more?

OLIVER: Yep.

ALICIA: And then I intimidated Rick, so he won’t send anything?

OLIVER: Yep.

ALICIA: So once I let my Mom know her secret’s out, everything’s back to normal?

OLIVER: Normal as normal gets, yep.

ALICIA: Why couldn’t anyone tell me any of this themselves?

OLIVER: Frankly, because you’re the type of person that calls other people “soul-sucking parasites.” People get a little nervous—believe me, I know.

All right, Sanders, what’s our time left on Secret Crushes?

SANDERS: Alicia put us about at the limit.

OLIVER: Let’s take a break then. This is Oliver Prowley on WMTC-Abana, and we’ll be back in 210 seconds.

[210 seconds later]

OLIVER: And we’re back with the Valentine’s Day Special, where we let you know who’s in luck and who’s not.

SANDERS: And who’s getting lucky tonight.

OLIVER: When possible. Okay, Sanders, do we have something lined up for a Hair Care segment?

SANDERS: I’ve got a handful of envelopes right here.

OLIVER: Bring ‘em on in. For you first-timers, the central question I face on Valentine’s Day is if someone loves, likes, cares for, whatever, some other person. Now, that’s a tough question to sense right off the bat, but if I have something belonging to the people in question—like, say, a strand of hair from each party—then I can give the answer so many of you poor saps are looking for.

[small pause]

Good heavens. Judging from this stack, that explanation was unnecessary, as everyone in the civilized world has sent an envelope. All right, no use wasting time, we’ll get to as many as we can before I get sick of it. Ready?

SANDERS: Ready!

OLIVER: Like you have to do anything in this segment besides keep your chair warm. Here we go: Billy B., no. Steve C., yes. Janet K, yes. Merv R., no. Susie D., no. Ralph S., God no. Scotty A., yes. Beatrice S., no, and he’s gay. Carlos A., you betcha. Andrew J., no. Stormy P., no. Eugene P., I’m afraid she’ has no idea you are an actual living being. Boris S., yes. Steph Q., no. Kaz I., not yet, but you’re not entirely out of the running. Vern L., no. And Harry C., yes, yes, yes, oh God yes. And that’s a quote.

SANDERS: Seventeen down, several thousand to go.

OLIVER: Right. And they’re all gonna wait, because both the listeners and I can only take so much of that bit at once. I think we need to move to something big.

SANDERS: Something big?

OLIVER: Something big. Love is great, wonderful, makes the world go round, all you need, all that crap, but most people listening would settle for getting laid.

SANDERS: Can you say “laid” on the air?

OLIVER: Sanders, it’s freakin’ 11:30 at night. I almost don’t need to say “freakin’”. Anyway, I think it’s time for Magic Words.

SANDERS: Magic Words!

OLIVER: I’ll have my dedicated lackey explain while I prepare myself.

SANDERS: Guys and gals, men and women, boys and girls, children of all ages—all ages over, say, 18, of course—how many of you believe that if you just knew the right words to say, you could get someone to melt in your arms like, um, like ice cream melts in the Sahara.

OLIVER: That was just terrible.

SANDERS: Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m sorry. Now, in most cases, the right words don’t exist, because it’s all about showing you care, and commitment, and stuff. But in some cases, the right words exist, and, thanks to some intensive pre-show work, my man Oliver knows what words are going to work for which people. We’ve wired up these people, so Oliver can feed ‘em the words, and we can hear the response. It’s emotional manipulation at it’s finest.

OLIVER: I don’t like the “m” word.

SANDERS: You’re saying it’s not manipulation?

OLIVER: No, I’m just saying I don’t like the word. Okay, our first big winner is Chet of Rillaway. Can we hear Chet’s feed?

CHET’S FEED: [Male voice: Is that good? Female voice: Yeah. Move out a little—near the shoulder blade. Yeah, that’s it. That’s nice.]

SANDERS: Sounds like Chet’s doing fine on his own.

OLIVER [scornfully]: He’s just giving her a shoulder rub. Gentlemen, if you cannot talk your date into receiving a shoulder rub, you simply do not belong on the dating circuit. Do us all a favor—stay home and watch Xena reruns. And while you’re at it, give Sanders a call, because that’s what he’s doing, too.

SANDERS: I’ve got some new insights on the Xena/Ares relationship I’d be happy to share with anyone.

OLIVER: Uh huh. But back to Chet. Chet, I hope you can hear me, but if you directly acknowledge me, we’ll blow our cover. So if you can hear me, work the words “log fire” into your conversation.

CHET’S FEED [Male voice: That still good? Female voice: Yeah. It’s helping a lot. Male voice: You know what else is good? When you can’t get a massage? Some of that muscle cream. The stuff burns like a log fire when you put it on, but it works great.]

OLIVER: Okay, Chet is on board. Chet, your magic words are: “Trust is the key to attraction.” Got it? Go!

CHET’S FEED: [Female voice: I hate to say it, but this rub is making me sleepy. I might have to turn in. Male voice: Hey, that’s okay. You go to bed, I’ll call you in the morning. Female voice: That always sounds like a line, but I’ll just bet you do it. Male voice: I will. You can trust me. I think that’s really important—to me, trust is the key to attraction. [Sound of bodies shifting slightly on leather sofa.] Female voice: Yeah. Yeah, me too. [Brief silence]. Female voice: You know what I really like? Getting a massage just as I’m falling asleep. I sleep great after that. You want to come back and finish rubbing me back there? Male voice: Sure. Whatever helps you. [Sound of people standing. Footsteps on carpet gradually fade.] Female voice, quieter: I also like the rub right on my skin. Turn around and I’ll take off my shirt and lie down. Then you can come in . . .]

OLIVER: And that’s a wrap at Chet’s place.

SANDERS [marveling]: That impresses the crap out of me every year. Do you know what I could do if I had your power for just one night?

OLIVER: Yeah, get smacked so hard your spine would turn into a slinky. Power alone ain’t enough, boy. It’s knowing how to use it, plus having a basic understanding of how human minds function. Since you barely have a basic understanding of how that control board in front of you works, I think you have a long way to go before power did you any good.

I, however, have just sent two people on a hike up Mount Ecstasy, and I’m ready to go again. Next we have Jaylene of Abana Heights. Let’s see how Jaylene’s evening is going.

JAYLENE’S FEED: [Male voice: . . . and I started doing a few reps at 300 pounds just this week. Female voice: Wow. Your pecs must be rock hard. Male voice (with what sounded like false modesty): No, no . . . well, almost. ]

SANDERS: Please get them talking about something else.

OLIVER: I’ll do my best. Jaylene, your magic words are: “I’m glad Jeff Gordon’s having an off year. I never liked him anyway.”

SANDERS: So how quickly can Jaylene get the conversation from weight lifting to NASCAR?

OLIVER: My money says four sentences or less.

SANDERS: You’re on. Take it, Jaylene

JAYLENE’S FEED: [Female voice: I think it’s weird how many people are weightlifting to get better at what they do, like Tiger Woods. Who ever thought working out had anything to do with golf? Next thing you know, you’ll get race car drivers pumping iron and saying it helps them grip the wheel. Male voice (clearly impressed): Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I think some guys do that already. Female voice: I just hope some of them get good enough to kick Jeff Gordon’s ass. I’m serious, I’m glad he’s having a bad year. I never liked him anyway. Male voice: Oh BABY! [Sound of glass thudding on carpet. Fabric gently rustles against fabric. Breathing sounds, with occasional muted gasps, become audible]. Male voice (speaking in throaty whisper): Tell me what you think about Steve Spurrier.]

OLIVER (leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, eyes closed): I don’t care how arrogant some jackass is as long as he gets results on the field.

JAYLENE’S FEED: [Female voice: I don’t care how arrogant some jackass is as long as he gets results on the field. Male voice: Oh, God, oh GOD. [Gasps, sighs and moans increase in both volume and frequency]. Female voice: Mmmmmmm . . . no, no, not with the, not with that, do it with the . . . that’s it . . . that’s better . . . mmmmmmm.]

OLIVER: The remainder of that encounter can be heard by dialing 976-YEOW at a charge of $2.95 a minute. Proceeds will go to Sanders so he can pay me the money he just lost on our bet.

So. That’s two for two.

SANDERS: And the world has become a better place.

OLIVER: For the moment, but I’ve got to tell you, things don’t look great for Jaylene in the morning. But that’s another matter. At the moment, I’m feeling generous enough to help one more couple shatter the barriers between them. Let’s go to Thomas and Necia.

THOMAS’ FEED: [Male voice: It only sounds good if you say it with an English accent. Female voice: How about sugar? Male voice: Only sounds good with a Southern accent. Female voice: Sweetheart. Male voice: Only sounds good when Humphrey Bogart says it.]

SANDERS: What the hell are they talking about?

OLIVER: Doesn’t matter—they’re not going to be talking much longer.

SFX: Sprooiinnnnggggggg!

OLIVER: Sanders! I swear, if I hear that damn sound one more time, you’ll wake up somewhere that makes the Russian gulag look like Granada.

SANDERS: Granada?

OLIVER: It’s the next hot vacation spot. Trust me.

Now, back to our friend Thomas, who has, I’d like to point out, been waiting an abnormally long time before moving to the step that I am about to shove him into. Thomas, my friend, your magic words are these: “I love summer nights, especially since they’re really perfect for one thing.”

SANDERS: Really?

OLIVER: Really.

SANDERS: That would work?

OLIVER: In this case, yes.

SANDERS: Kind of sounds corny.

OLIVER [with noticeable impatience]: That’s why they’re the magic words for her not you. Look, there’s only two people who know what this woman thinks about hot summer days, and that’s me and her. And I’m telling you, this is what she thinks.

SANDERS: Okay. Double or nothing that he says the line and she laughs in his face.

OLIVER: You’re on.

THOMAS’ FEED: [Male voice: He had to have been kidding. Please tell me he was kidding. Female voice: He didn’t look like it. He looked sincere. I didn’t think it would be possible to say “snoogy woogums” with a straight face, but he pulled it off. I was terribly impressed. Male voice: It’s always inspirational to see people do the impossible. Female voice: But maybe the heat got to him. You know how hot it is in that place, it’s summer every day of the year. Fried the noggin.]

SANDERS [throws his hands in the air]: What are the odds conversation is going to turn to summer in the middle of February?

OLIVER: Odds have nothing to do with it. The only reason those words were going to work was because the conversation would naturally flow in that direction. It’s the nature of my gift—to see how the present flows into the future.

Now Thomas just needs to bring it home.

THOMAS’ FEED: [Male voice: Summer does that to me, too. Female voice: Not me—heat is the Bunsen burner to the petri dish of my brain. Male voice: Do they use Bunsen burners with petri dishes? Female voice: I don’t know, but they’re both things found in labs, so it’s close enough. But stay with me here. It’s like . . .]

SANDERS: Gabby couple, ain’t they.

OLIVER: Let me remind him we’re live. Thomas! We’re live! Move things along, please!

THOMAS’ FEED: [Female voice: . . . and everyone in the whole city feels like they’re about to go crazy from the heat, that they’re going to start randomly punching strangers for the hell of it, and you walk down the street and you’ve got to look at everyone sideways, you know, keep an eye on them but not look at them directly, and you walk on the streets like that for long enough and you’ve either got to get somewhere and get something done or hit someone yourself. And so far, I’ve never hit anyone. Male voice: I can see what you’re saying, but what I love are summer nights, because . . .]

OLIVER: That’s my boy! He’s closing in!

SANDERS: Stepping up to the plate!

THOMAS’ FEED: [Male voice:. . . because . . . well, I like going to concerts. I like the way music travels in the air. Oh, hey, speaking of which, have you heard . . .]

OLIVER: What the hell is he doing?

SANDERS: He didn’t use the line.

OLIVER: WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING?

THOMAS’ FEED: [Female voice: . . . once last summer, they were pretty good. They weren’t Low, but they were good. But . . .are you okay? Male voice: Yeah, just got an itch here . . . hold on . . . I think I—[sound of crackle, then static]]

OLIVER: What happened?

SANDERS: We lost the feed.

OLIVER: Dammit, he must have de-miked himself. [Briefly fumes in silence] Do you know what this is like? Do you know? It’s like giving someone a car for Christmas and watching them drive it straight into a tree. On purpose. [Shakes head] I give this man a wonderful gift, and he throws it back in my face.

What is this man thinking? He obviously likes this woman, or they wouldn’t talk so damn much. So why not use the words?

SANDERS: I guess some people aren’t ready to be helped.

OLIVER: Damn right. It’s a matter of trust, here, people. You trust me enough to ask my help, and I treat it as a sacred responsibility. I in turn trust you with my considerable gifts, and some of you, like this man, stomp all over them. This man was not worthy of my trust, and if I could talk with poor Necia, I’d tell her to run. This man is not to be trusted. [Takes deep, audible breath]. Let’s take a break. You’re listening to Oliver Prowley on WMTC.

Jason M. Hardy is the editor of Pale Fire Fiction. He is also the author of two German novels, though he does not speak German. Really.