Hello There, We've Been Waiting for You!. Laurie B. Arnold

Hello There, We've Been Waiting for You! - Laurie B. Arnold


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pinballs. Were they really going to put me on a shopping show? What if Florida came home and saw me on TV? How would I figure out which button to push on the remote control to get back to Truth or Consequences? Could I even go back? And how in the heck was this even possible? The whole thing was super-freaky.

      I positioned my thumb on top of the ENTER button. But I wasn’t fast enough.

      “I’ll take that,” said the clipboard lady as she snatched it from my hand. “Can’t have you holding a remote control when you’re on national television. How in the world did you get this from our Product Room, anyway?”

      She handed it to a guy with a bright green lizard tattoo on his arm. Now what was I going to do?

      It turned out I didn’t have a second to think about it. Somebody pushed me over to the set with the carpet. Libby was already there, dressed up like she was going out for dinner. Who vacuums their floor wearing high heels and a tight black skirt?

      “Are you nervous?” she asked me.

      I nodded. And I was even more nervous about figuring out how to get out of there.

      “I’m nervous too” Libby told me. “I’ve never been on television before.”

      And I’d never been in a television before.

      Suddenly the clipboard lady looked frantic. “Where is he? Can somebody please get him here now! We’re on in twenty seconds!”

      “He’s on his way,” someone yelled back. I was curious who “he” was. Then in a burst of speed, a guy pushed a wheelchair into the studio. Sitting in it was the TV host that Florida loved and adored. Alan Stone!

      He leaped from the wheelchair and plunked himself down on the sofa in the living room set. Margo dusted his face with powder and fluffed his hair.

      “We’re on in five-four-three-two-one,” said the clipboard lady.

      And then I was on live TV.

       Chapter Eight

      My heart fluttered fast as we waited for Alan Stone to introduce the Dirt Demon Deluxe. At least I didn’t have to say anything. That part would be up to Libby.

      “Good afternoon, my friends,” Alan Stone said to the camera. “I have a little story I’d like to share about our next product.

      “Just last week, my five-year old son Ben tried inviting a family of pigeons into our living room. How did he do this? He scattered ten pounds of birdseed all over our brand-new carpet and opened the sliding glass door. As luck would have it, I walked in before our house was invaded by birds. I pulled out our fancy vacuum cleaner, but it couldn’t get all the birdseed up. Then I remembered that the Dirt Demon folks had given me one of these amazing vacuum cleaners to test. I pulled it out of the trunk of my car, plugged in in, switched it on, and guess what? It sucked up every last speck.

      “But my friends, I always say ‘Seeing is believing.’ Libby has joined us today from the Dirt Demon Company and she’s going to show us what a miraculous marvel of a machine this really is. Today we also have a special helper with us, young Madison McGee. After all, who knows how to dirty up a carpet better than a kid?”

      Okay, that was rude. But I certainly wasn’t about to say so right on TV because the cameras switched on to me that very second. My stomach was invaded by butterflies, and beads of sweat popped out on my forehead.

      “What are we starting with, Libby?”

      “Birdseed,” she peeped so quietly I could barely hear.

      Joe the prop guy pointed to a bucket of birdseed. That was my cue to pick it up.

      “Exactly one bucketful of birdseed,” Alan Stone said. “Now go for it, Madison. And give it all you’ve got!”

      I took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, I thought. My hand shook as I scattered the birdseed on the carpet in front of the vacuum cleaner.

      “How about that? She looks like she’s been dirtying up carpets all her life!” Alan Stone thought he was really funny, but I didn’t.

      Libby vacuumed it up, then opened the vacuum cleaner and dumped everything it had sucked up right back in the bucket.

      “Absolutely incredible,” said Alan Stone.

      I thought he was making too big a deal out of it. I mean, isn’t that what vacuum cleaners are supposed to do?

      “And what do we have next, Libby?” he asked.

      “Sand,” she barely whispered.

      “What’s that?”

      “Sand,” she squeaked louder. Her cheeks were turning sunburn-red.

      Joe cued me, so I threw the sand. Some of it flew straight back into my eyes, and it was hard to keep them from looking all blinky while I was on camera. I waited until they cut back to Alan Stone and then rubbed them until they got teary enough to wash away the grit.

      As Libby emptied the sand from the vacuum cleaner into the bucket, Alan Stone strolled over.

      “Let’s see this baby in action,” he said.

      Libby opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

      While he went on and on about how great the vacuum cleaner was, she just stared at him. It was as if some strange love spell had overwhelmed her. Her mouth gaped like a goldfish. Her eyes turned glassy, and her skin changed to milky white. Then she pitched over backwards onto the floor in a dead faint. Right on television.

      The cameras quickly moved in to show Alan Stone up close. He didn’t say one single word about Libby dropping over. He just kept talking about the wonders of the vacuum cleaner. Joe the prop guy dragged poor Libby away.

      The clipboard lady rushed over to me and whispered, “Madison, just keep going.”

      “What about Libby? Will she be okay?” I whispered back.

      “We don’t have time to worry about that. This is live TV. Listen carefully. You’re going to dump the next bucket and then you’ll do the vacuuming.”

      “Can’t Alan Stone do that part?”

      “Mr. Stone doesn’t vacuum. It’s up to you. And if you could say a few cute things along the way, even better.” Then she scooted away.

      I had to talk? On live TV? I heard the thump, thump, thump of my heart and was sure everyone else could too.

      Joe gave me the signal. I picked up the next bucket, which was filled to the brim with little Legos. If I hadn’t been so worried about having to talk on TV, showering the carpet with thousands of Legos would have been a blast. I tried to inhale a little courage and then froze.

      The clipboard lady’s face knotted up with worry. “Come on, you can do this,” she whispered.

      Could I? Then I realized maybe I could. I’d watched enough silly stuff on TV to know what to do. And to help take the edge off my nerves, I pretended I was only talking to Violet.

      “Next up? A bucket of Legos,” I said, straight to the camera before I scattered them like fat pieces of colorful confetti.

      Phew. So far so good.

      Then I switched on the vacuum, and it rattled and clacked, sucking them all up.

      “Who wouldn’t want to clean up Legos like this?” I said. “Kids would even want to do it themselves if they had a vacuum like this one.”

      The clipboard lady smiled and gave me the thumbs-up.

      And I realized all the butterflies in my stomach had flown away.

      I emptied all the pieces back into the bucket. It was filled to the top with Legos.

      “That’s


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