“Good morning, and welcome back,” Mason said, his perfectly white teeth reflecting the studio lights, causing a small lens flare in the camera. “We have with us today Ms. Margaret Teel, from New Sussex. Ms. Teel, now, you’re a housewife, correct?”
Margaret, sitting on the stylish, yet remarkably uncomfortable sofa next to the coifed, pampered personality, frowned. “Excuse me? No, I’m not a ‘housewife’. I’m between jobs, looking for work.”
“Right, but you stay at home, you cook and wash dishes, all of that?”
“Yeah, but – ”
“That’s essentially a housewife, isn’t it? I mean, I know we can quibble about the definition, but that’s essentially what you’re doing right now.”
“I’m not married, sir. I don’t even own a house. I live in a shitty little bachelor apartment above a garage that I’m not sure is even legal.”
Mason smiled a talk-show host smile and looked at the camera. “Hm. Okay, well, today we’re discussing the dying art of housewifery, so we can get your thoughts on it? Should we hold on to housewives, maybe expand education in the university system for them, or should we allow the further push of women into the marketplace, and hope that the state can properly care for children and husbands?”
Margaret’s jaw hung open. She looked between Mason, the producer, and the cameraman.
“Ms. Teel?” Mason prompted with a little laugh. “Cat got your tongue? What do you think?”
“Cat? No. Asshole, yes. What the fuck kind of bullshit fucking question is that?”
“Please, watch your language for our viewers Ms. Teel.”
“Fuck you, you ask a question assuming the right of conservative, 1800s-style nonsense? ‘Allow the further push of women into the marketplace’? Who the hell are you? I was walking down the street to drop off a job application, and someone pulls me in to ask if I wanted to appear on a talk show, says he’d pay me a hundred bucks. And this is how you discuss things? You know what? My thoughts are that you can take your bullshit, misogynistic views, and go fuck yourself.”
“Okay, well, there you have it. The average woman on the street is, as we’ve always suspected, hysterical. We’ll be back after these messages.”
The camera cut on Margaret’s bag mid-flight to Mason’s face.