Jerry Springer

"Jerry Springer"

by c.w. cobblestone

They call it the Green Room, but it's actually painted blue. But the color of

the walls was the least of my problems as I sat nervously in the room

backstage. I had good reason to be apprehensive - I was about to appear on The

Jerry Springer Show and I didn't know why.

 

The room was soundproofed, so I couldn't hear what my wife was talking about

onstage. This was going to be one of those "surprise" shows, the producer had

explained earlier. So they stuck me in the back room for the first 10 minutes

of the show while Tammy went on camera to talk about whatever she was going to

surprise me with. Every now and then I could faintly make out the sound of the

studio audience. It sounded like they were laughing.

 

Suddenly the door swung open and two musclebound men wearing black "Jerry

Springer" tee-shirts strode in.

 

"It's time for your big moment," one of them said cheerfully. "Your 15 minutes

of fame are about to start."

 

"Let's go, pal," the other one added firmly. "We gotta make our cue."

 

I felt like a doomed man walking to the electric chair as I made my way

unsteadily through the corridor that led to the stage.

 

As soon as I walked through the stage curtain, I knew what the surprise was

going to be: I saw my wife sitting onstage, holding hands with a black man I'd

never seen before.

 

The audience howled as I staggered across the set toward the empty chair next

to my wife. It was the longest walk I'd ever taken in my life: with each step,

the audience laughed even louder. All the while, my beautiful wife Tammy was

sneering at me, laughing along with the audience, while the black guy just

leaned back in his chair and smiled.

 

I finally made it to my seat. As I sat down, Tammy snuggled up to the black guy

and gave him a sloppy kiss. The audience hooted. I wanted to die.

 

I looked out into the sea of leers, and my blood ran cold. The expressions on

the audience members' faces was terrifying. They looked like a pack of wild

hyenas, ready for blood.

 

I sat there in stunned silence for a few seconds before I even noticed Jerry

standing in front of his audience. He had his microphone cocked on his

shoulder, waiting for the laughter to die down before he asked his first

question. Finally, he held his hand up for silence, and the audience

immediately obeyed their hero's command.

 

Jerry looked at me seriously. "Doug, your wife has a secret she's been keeping

from you," he said. I looked down at my shoes. It didn't take a genius to

figure out what was coming next.

 

Tammy smiled at me. "Dougie, this is James," she said, motioning toward the

black man. "I've been sleeping with him throughout our entire marriage!"

 

That brought renewed laughter from the audience, and my head started to swim. A

million thoughts ran through my mind during the next few seconds, until

finally, I couldn't take it any longer. Through my haze of pain and confusion,

I felt myself get up and lunge toward the big black man sitting on the other

side of my wife.

 

It was no match; he immediately grabbed my flailing fist, then slapped me hard

across the face twice before the big guys in the black "Jerry Springer"

tee-shirts could seperate us.

 

The crowd started chanting: "Jer-ry! Jer-ry!" as one of the guards lifted me up

by my shoulder and escorted me back to my seat.

 

I held my hand over my face and slumped in my chair. I could feel the tears

soaking the palm of my hand. I didn't want to look up and face the audience,

which was louder than ever, whipped up by the altercation. So I just sat there

with my head buried in my hands.

 

Jerry kept things moving: "Doug, Tammy tells us you have a rather odd sex

fantasy, and that's why she cheats on you," he said. "Could you tell us about

that?"

 

I didn't even get a chance to explain - Tammy jumped in before I could say a

word. "I'll tell you about it: he keeps telling me he wants to be my slave!"

she said.

 

The audience roared, and Jerry shook his head and smiled. "Is that true, Doug?"

he asked. "Are you into that sort of thing?"

 

I looked over at my wife. How could she do this to me? I'd been a perfectly

good husband over the past three years: I always took out the garbage, and even

ironed Tammy's outfits for work every day. I felt totally betrayed.

 

Jerry repeated his question: "Doug, do you want your wife to treat you like a

slave?"

 

I didn't know what to say. I looked into the maze of cameras, then back down at

my shoes. This was television; everyone would know I was lying anyway, I

thought. I'd probably look like an even bigger fool if I tried to cover it up.

I figured the jig was up.

 

"Y-yes, that is one of my fantasies," I croaked. Then I looked into my wife's

smiling eyes. "But...why, Tammy? Why?"

 

She snuggled closer to James. "I'll tell you why - because you're a pervert who

can't hold a job, and James here gives me everything I need!"

 

Again, the audience jumped to its feet. Jerry again held up his hand, but this

time it took a few seconds for the noise to die down.

 

Finally, Jerry addressed my wife. "Tammy, if you feel that way about him, why

don't you just get a divorce?"

 

Tammy was ready with an answer: "Because if I divorced the loser, he'd kill

himself, and I don't want to be responsible!"

 

The audience was silent now. Jerry looked at me almost sympathetically. "Is

that true, Doug? Your wife says you'd kill yourself if she divorced you. Have

you told her that before?"

 

"Y-yes, I have," I whispered.

 

That wasn't good enough for Jerry: "Why would you kill yourself, Doug? It seems

to me that staying in this marriage would cause you more pain than getting a

divorce would."

 

I looked deep into Jerry's beady eyes, hiding behind his glasses. I could see

that this man didn't give a rat's ass about me - he was just trying to elicit a

good response.

 

But, again, I felt like I had to tell the truth. The whole world was watching.

 

"B-but I love her, Jerry," I said, my lip quivering. "I couldn't face life

without her!"

 

That remark brought the house down. I could see men in the back row, shaking

their fists in the air, while women high-fived each other. Once again, Jerry

held up his hand for silence.

 

Jerry adjusted his glasses and looked at my wife. "Tammy, why do you treat him

like this? He says he loves you."

 

"I know he loves me," she shot back. "He tells me every day."

 

"But you obviously don't love him."

 

"Well," my wife drawled. "I do have some love for him, yes."

 

"Then why in the world do you treat him like this?" Jerry asked again.

 

"Because he likes it," Tammy said.

 

More howls. Jerry walked to the other end of the stage.

 

"James, what do you have to say about all this?" he asked. "Don't you feel

guilty for sleeping with another man's wife?"

 

"What do I have to feel guilty for?" James answered. "If he don't know how to

please his old lady, somebody's got to do it!"

 

Another round of laughter, then Jerry turned toward one of the cameras.

 

"We'll be back with questions from our audience, right after these messages."

 

 

COMING SOON: DOUG GETS SOME SAGE ADVICE FROM AN AUDIENCE MEMBER WEARING A

POLYESTER SUN DRESS...AND A COUNSELOR SUGGESTS A 12-STEP PROGRAM FOR OUR HERO!

 

(Just kidding. I think I'll mercifully end this story right here!)