Hi-Yo, Silver!! Stop Those Dastardly Spectrum TV Bandits!
Can the Masked Man save us from the marauding cable outlaw?
Int. — Greenwich Village Living Room
JOYCE, a retired newspaper reporter, is planted on the couch in front of her television set, with two remotes in her hands. The screen is blank, save for the words, “No signal, fuck you, Wadler.” Joyce, her hands torn and bleeding, keeps punching the remotes, desperately trying to bring up CNN.
THE VOICE OF A FEMALE BOT, IMPERVIOUS TO THE PLEAS OF MERE HUMANS, echoes from Joyce’s landline.
Bot: You are 130th in line. If you would prefer Spectrum to call you back, leave your number and a representative will get back to you in three weeks –
Joyce: (Falling on the floor!) There’s a goddamn war in Israel. The world could explode at any minute!! I need to see this! Is there no one who can help!!!
There’s a pawing sound and a horse’s whinny at the door.
Joyce: (Yelling) Pizza guy? You’ve got the wrong apartment. I didn’t order anything.
THE LONE RANGER: (O.C.) Hi-yo, Silver!!
Joyce opens the door to find The Lone Ranger and his trusty white steed, SILVER.
The Lone Ranger: (Tipping his white cowboy hat.) Howdy, Ma’am. We heard your calls for help and got here as soon as we could.
Silver paws the ground.
Lone Ranger: That’s horsie for, “Many of your neighbors are in the same situation. Spectrum offered an enticing package deal that allowed them to do away with Verizon and save $100 a month, but now they find they are unable to get a signal. Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
Joyce: The Lone Ranger? No offense, Masked Man, but are you conversant with the technology? I haven’t seen you around for nearly seventy years. If I’m correct, you’re ninety years old.
The Lone Ranger: That’s how it works, Ma’m. Your childhood hero is imprinted onto your nascent brain and you are stuck with them for life. Now, first things first, let’s shut up that annoying, yappn’, varmit on your desk.
Joyce: My landline?
The Lone Ranger: (Taking out his pearl-handled revolver.) Yep. I’m thinking, from the candy-assed literature in this place, you’ve never held a firearm in your life, so if you just put your hand over mine – you’ve got a right purty hand – then…
BAM! POW! THE LONE RANGER’S PISTOL EXPLODES, SENDING SHARDS OF GUTTED LANDLINE ALL OVER THE ROOM
Joyce: Oh, my God! That felt good. But it still doesn’t solve the problem. See, my Roku works fine, but I can’t get a signal from Spectrum, which is where I get CNN. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. I got a new cable box, I’ve called Spectrum service every other week for a year, but the day after they fix it it stops working again. I’m in meltdown.
The Lone Ranger: Well, Ma’m. If you’ve spoken to Spectrum, I’d say we should call the manufacturer of that TV set. What’s the name, Panasonic? Let’s just find the number for customer service and call them up.
INT. LIVING ROOM, two hours later.
LONE RANGER: (On Joyce’s cell) …The serial number?... Hold on a minute partner, I gotta get out my masked specs…
INT. LIVING ROOM, an hour later.
A DVD player has been detached from the TV and is on the floor. The Lone Ranger, with the phone on speaker, is trying to follow directions, disconnecting and re-connecting coaxial cables, flipping the 12-plug power outlet strip on and off, removing the television from the living room, and chilling it for exactly fifteen minutes in the refrigerator.
JOLLY YOUNG TECH GUY (O.C.): Well, Lone, since nothing is wrong with the TV—it’s a ten-year-old set so good on us – I’d say the problem is with your provider. I suggest you call them, right after you answer our twenty-minute survey saying how great I, your customer service rep was, and what Panasonic could do better, which is nothing. It’s a trick question.
The call is terminated.
Silver: Neigh, Neigh.
The Lone Ranger: That’s horsie for, “Well, we tried, let’s go over to The White Horse Tavern and get a drink.”
Joyce: They’re not open yet.
Silver whinnies incredulously.
The Lone Ranger: That’s horse for ‘Oh, damn, I love that place. You do know that Dylan Thomas died there? Well, actually, he died in St. Vincent’s Hospital, but he collapsed just outside The White Horse after downing eighteen shots of whiskey. Then they carried him back to the Chelsea Hotel, where he went into a coma, then to St. Vincent’s.” Sil does go on, but out on the high plains, a body is grateful for talk. Too bad about your moving picture box.
Joyce: Yeah. I guess there’s nothing to do now but go crawling back to Verizon.
The Lone Ranger: Now hang on there, Miss Joyce. Is this how the West was won and stole from the Cherokee, Comanche, Apache, Cheyenne, and Osage nations? We’re calling Spectrum and this time we’re getting through.
CUT TO:
Int. Living Room, Two Days Later.
Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 10 For Harp and Cutting Your Throat is on repeat.
Silver is at the table, next to an almost empty vodka bottle, reciting “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” in Horse. Joyce is next to Silver, eating Chunky Monkey directly from the container. The Lone Ranger, on the sofa, is on hold, dozing…
SPECTRUM SERVICE REP: (O.C.) Good afternoon. This is Spectrum, how can we be of service?
Lone Ranger: (Now wide awake) SPECTRUM!!! You’re there!! (Wiping away a manly tear.) No, I’m fine, just having a Custer moment. THANK YOU, PARTNER, THANK YOU SO MUCH! Well, as you can see if you look at our records, we’ve called you about this “No Signal” message we’ve gotten thirty-six times before and I sure am grateful for your help…Oh. You need the security number on my account. And my first and last name, date of birth, blood type, and the reason I chose chasing bad guys as a profession.
CUT TO:
Int. Living Room, three hours later.
Silver, behind the TV, reconnects the router for the fifth time, then once again turns on the power. The Lone Ranger is on the cell with the Spectrum rep.
Lone Ranger: How many minutes did you say it will take for all the channels to re-load? About twenty?
Silver trots out from behind the TV, goes to the living room window, opens it, and jumps.
Lone Ranger: (Looking down at the hairy white splotch on the sidewalk.) Damn, he was a good horse.
Lone Ranger: (To Spectrum). No, I wasn’t talking to you, my horse just —Of course, Spectrum is important to me. How important? It’s the most important thing in my life. I put it before everybody and everything. I pledge allegiance to my Spectrum and the Wi-Fi system for which it stands…What’s that? How many blue lights are lit up on the box now? Do you mind telling me which box you’re talking about, partner? Cause we got the low flat one and the two tall ones…. Router? There’s no call for that kind of language. We have a lady present!
CUT TO:
Int. Joyce’s Apartment, an hour later.
Joyce and The Lone Ranger are huddled around her cell.
Spectrum Rep: …since the Cable box isn’t working and you’ve already had it replaced you could stream Spectrum through your WiFi. We can do it through your Roku. It will even save you money. Of course, you’ll need to return the cable box to a Spectrum store to get that reduced rate and I hear there are long waits at the one in your neighborhood, but if you’ll just hold while I transfer you over to Sales….
The Lone Ranger removes his pearl-handled revolver from his holster and shoots himself in the heart.
Joyce: (Picking up the phone) No problem. I’ll hold.
You forgot the insufferable, distorted hold musix, which no internet company has, apparently, changed for, say, 5 years. Do they understand that after 100,000 plays the music becomes degraded. And then distorted. For anyone with perfect, or even relative, pitch, it is TORTURE.
Eloquent literary genius that I am, I only have one comment: SPECTRUM SUCKS.