“Tune In” by Cecilia Tan
She paints her fingernails with metallic gray nail enamel, each one a blank tv screen: tiny tvs on the ends of her fingers. If she were a futuristic-minded chick like me, she’d call their color cyborg-eye gray. But she isn’t, so I’m the one who imagines her nails powering up, flickering to life as she fans her fingers in front of me. Tiny images flash in unison like some appliance department hallucination, and she runs the tips of her nails down the fabric of my shirt.
She sucks on her finger and I imagine sound, too, the tinny voices of a laundry soap commercial drown out as she wraps her tongue around her finger.
She’s slipping her wet finger between my legs, now two fingers, and three. Her pinky and thumb come together, and five sitcoms at once jabber on, laugh tracks out of sync; smiling well-scrubbed faces reciting one-liners are buried in the folds of my cunt.
Maybe in the future, I think, we’ll experience tv with something other than our eyes and ears… but then she interrupts my thought, demanding to know, “What is so funny?”
Lucille Ball is taking a pratfall, Jerry Seinfeld is talking about nothing, Alan Hale is taking off his hat to hit his little buddy with, Robin Williams is drinking through his finger, and Henry Winkler–the Fonz–is giving me a big thumbs up.
Previously appeared at Nerve.com. Used with permission of the author.