The TV Showdown: Who Controls the Remote?

by Leslie Bennetts

But then I kept wondering what happened to Christian, and by the time my husband came to bed I couldn’t resist asking. Biiiiig mistake.

“The bad guy thinks the reason he’s not successful is that he’s not good-looking, so he’s got Christian strapped down on the operating table, and he’s going to cut off his face and perform a face transplant,” my husband said calmly. Then he turned out the light and went to sleep.

Cut off his face and perform a what? I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my head teeming with horrible images. Finally I drifted off to sleep, but at two a.m. I sat bolt upright, my heart pounding from a nightmare about Hannibal Lecter wearing the prison guard’s face while leering hideously at the ambulance driver he was about to butcher.

As the minutes ticked by, I obsessed on the logistics of hacking off someone’s face and applying it to your own. By 4:30 I was ready to kill my beloved, who had been snoring peacefully for hours.

They say that most couples fight about money and sex. Not us. We fight about television, and the opportunities are endless.