Your mother sat solemnly on the couch, her hands clenched into fists on top of the newspaper in her lap. She said it was all over.
You glowered and glared; you asked what the hell is happening, and will you still be on the talk show circuit next month?
The television stations are all color bars and static. Your father says that the talk shows are all gone, and not to worry. He tells you that there are far more important things happening right now. How can you not worry? You were supposed to debut your new fragrance next month to coincide with the release of your latest album.