Edited by Todger65, and JessGabriel.
The following is intended for mature readers only. ALL characters represented are 18 years of age or older. This story contains strong uses of profanity, nudity, scenes of graphic sexual relations, science fiction, parody, humor, classic cinema, incest, and more scenes of graphic sexual relations. Reader discretion is advised.
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Chapter 1:
Whatever happened to predictability?
It was a calm and peaceful morning in the Miller household. Outside, birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and somewhere in the distance, a wind chime caught a gentle breeze. This was just the break Scottie Miller needed after the grueling spring semester. This slow, lazy morning was well-earned, as was his overflowing bowl of cereal he richly deserved. And so, wearing his sweatpants and a t-shirt, he sat at the kitchen counter crunching away at an overly sugared spoonful of Cheerios, caring not for the dribble of milk that ran down his chin. He just knew; this was going to be a good day.
He nearly fell off his stool when he heard his sister shouting his name.
"God damnit, Scottie! Get your ass out here and give me a hand!" she shouted while the doorbell repeatedly chimed.
Nearly tripping over himself, Scottie ran to the door and yanked it open. While expecting to find Hannah, he instead was greeted by dozens of brown boxes filling the porch, stacked so poorly that whatever was inside surely wasn't in one piece anymore. Behind them and holding a box of her own, was his dear, sweet sister Hannah.
"Where the hell have you been!" she asked dropping down her load onto an already beaten and dented box beneath. Though she may not have heard the crinkle of something breaking, Scottie sure did. "Why aren't you checking your phone?! You were supposed to be helping me three hours ago! I've been stuck shucking all these boxes on my own," she said as she raked her short, dark brown hair back, tucking it under her bandana.
"...Huh?" was all Scottie could muster as Hannah groaned in frustration, turned in a huff and began marching across the lawn toward a large, yellow moving truck.
Scottie ran after her. "What are you talking about? We weren't going to get started until Friday!"
"No, dumbass, that's when they have to list it," she said, barely turning back. "Mom specifically said we had to clear out the Westbrooke house today so it can be re-carpeted tomorrow."
"What? When did she say that?"
Hannah stopped and looked at him, slightly dumfounded. "She texted me, like, a thousand times last night, like I would forget."
"She didn't text me," Scottie said.
"Well there's a shocker." Hannah was never one to be low on sarcasm. Grabbing a handle, she hoisted herself up into the back of the truck, having left its roll-down door open. The interior was chock-full from floor to ceiling with varying shades of cardboard, crammed so tightly together it was as if pieced together by a grand champion of Tetris.
"Holy shit," Scottie said seeing the work to be done. "You do this all yourself?"
"Fuck no," Hannah said picking up yet another box. "Turns out there's a fraternity across the street." Her cheeky smirk spoke volumes. "Those boys were all too eager to help a young woman. Speaking of which..." she said as she pushed the box into Scottie's chest. He took it with a grunt.
"Poor guys," he said as she turned back to the load. He couldn't help but think, with how she filled those yoga pants and loose tank top, they would have finished the entire renovation just to watch her hips sway. "You sure there's anything left over there?"
Hannah picked up another box and dropped it on top of his other. He groaned slightly as his chin barely cleared the top.
"Oh yeah," she said. "The last owner was a hoarder or something."
She looked him over quickly, noticing for the first time his tank top and baggy sweatpants. "You really need to go change. We got a lot of shit to still do."
Much to Scottie's dismay, Hannah's assessments of the Westbrooke site were pretty damn accurate as the house seemed to hold so many boxes, it could very well have stashed the Ark of the Covenant.
There was little furniture that needed to go. A table, two chairs, pots, pans, and yet no plates or glasses. All the cabinets were completely bare and looked as if they had never even been stocked. There was a single bed, but no mattress. They did have a Television, though it was an old bulky, heavy, 21-inch CRT surrounded by heaps of cables, wires, and various electrical tools.
It took two more runs for the siblings to pack up the site and offload it back home. The Delta-Beta-Kappas across the way did volunteer to help once more, but for some reason, they were less enthusiastic upon seeing Scottie.
It was close to 4pm by the time they were fully wrapped, truck returned, and back home. They loaded as many boxes as they could into the garage, but the rest went into the living room.
Hannah lumbered up to the couch and fell face-first into the soft embrace of the cushions. She let out a groan of satisfaction right into the pillows as she melted into place. Scottie paid her little attention as he opened a cardboard lid and peeked inside finding it full of pink, white, and yellow forms.
"Jeez," he said, then called out "Hey, Hannah."
She groaned in response.
Scottie closed the box and opened another. More papers. "I never asked, but why did Mom want the boxes brought here? Don't they normally go to donate somewhere or the landfill or something?"
With a slight turn of her head, she said "I don't know. Maybe they want to sell the stuff, or Dad might restore something. She didn't say."
"Okay, just seems weird, is all," Scottie said. "If you think he was a hoarder, shouldn't we be worried about pests, or something?"
His sister remained motionless as he picked up a folder and looked inside.
"Shit, I think this previous dude had some health issues," he said.
Hannah mumbled something into the pillows.
"What?" Scottie asked.
"Alzheimer's" she repeated, louder this time. "He passed away a few months ago so his estate went up for sale or something like that."
"Oh dang." He dropped the folder back where he found it, then opened another.
Hearing her brother's incessant rummaging, she opened one eye.
"Are you gonna keep rifling through his things?"
Scottie shrugged as he peeled back the lid on another box. "Should I not? It's part and parcel with the place, right?"
"Technically, yeah," she said as he moved to a new trove. "Find anything good?"
He shook his head. "No, not really. Bunch of medical files and junk so far," he said as he opened a new box.
"Oh, scratch that! Hey Hannah!" he said turning to her, holding up a large ball of tangled RCA cables. "Look! Goldmine! We can finally start that vintage TV repair business we are always talking about!" He chuckled. Sarcasm was thick with them both.
Still laughing at his own joke, he turned back to the open box, catching sight of something tucked beneath the wires.
"Oh, hold-up," he said, dropping the bundle and rummaging deep within the container. He pulled out a small device, roughly the size of a hardbound book. Its smooth metal painted a matte black and wrapped in a power cord. Flipping it over, he found a rectangular remote taped to it, simple but crude in design.
Seeing his interest had been piqued, Hannah rolled onto her side to get a better look.
"What's that?" she asked.
Scottie frowned, turning it over. "I'm... not quite sure," he said. "I think it's something for the TV based on these connections, but there is no brand name or anything so I don't know. Weird that it has a remote, though."
He flipped the remote over in his hands. The little controller appeared to take the minimalist route. On the front was a small LCD screen and three buttons; Up, Down, and something that had a handwritten "ENTER". Flipping it over, he saw the bottom had a small copper plate and above that, a little sliding switch with three positions: Off, T, R.
"It's kinda weird," Scottie said. "Whatever this is, I think he made it. Ages ago at that. No branding at all, and the remote feels homemade."
"Sounds exciting," Hannah said mockingly. "You should probably just-"
"Oh shit! I think I know what this is!"
Hannah raised an eyebrow as her brother smiled, pleased with himself.
"... I think... I think this was a black box!"
"What? For like, airplanes?"
"No-no-no-no." Scottie was finding it hard to hide his excitement. "This was a thing they used to use back in the day to connect to the TV or Cable box and unlock all the stations. Kinda like pirating TV. I read about it on a forum a while ago."
His sister rolled her eyes. "Okay, Captain. That is quite a jump to make-"
"I'm gonna try it out!" he said blowing past her and making for the flat screen.
"Well, you have fun with your new toy. I'm gonna go take a shower."
"Uh-huh," mumbled Scottie as he tried to slide the big, bulky entertainment center from the wall to get to the cables.
"Try not to screw anything up, please. Mom and Dad should be home in like an hour and you know who they will blame."
"Yeah-yeah, I'm good." Scottie was in the zone.
Hannah shook her head and headed upstairs.
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Chapter 2:
There is Nothing Wrong With Your Television Set.
Scottie was turning on the TV when Hannah returned, fresh, clean, and in a pajama camisole with matching shorts, tied at the waist.
"You still at it?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said as he shuffled four different remotes in his hands. "Took me a little longer to get the right cables, connections, and batteries for this little guy," he said wiggling the new controller. "I think I got it all figured out... and there!"
With a click of the remote, the screen turned black.
The sound of a single person clapping filled the space. Turning around, Scottie found Hannah smirking at him with the world's slowest applause.
"Oh Captain, my Captain," she said laughing.
He crumbled. "Shut up. I'm still figuring this out."
"You put the batteries in the right way?"
"Yes, I put the batteries in the right way," he mocked as he flipped over the remote. "Oh, maybe this?"
Scottie clicked the slider on the back of the remote from OFF to T.
The television flickered, then changed to a blue screen. White text appeared in the upper right corner reading:
SCANNING -- 1%
"Holy crap!" Scottie said, turning to his sister with the expectation of unrelenting praise. Instead, Hannah was looking at her phone.
"Mom and Dad are running late. They said we are on our own for dinner."
"Hannah!"
She looked up to see Scottie staring at her, then nodding to the TV.
SCANNING -- 4%
"Oh," she said. "Good job." She took a seat on the couch.
Scottie jumped into the seat next to her, watching the screen with pure joy.
SCANNING -- 6%
The room was silent as both siblings watched the progress ever so slowly increase.
Scottie looked at the remote and noticed the small LCD screen was illuminated. In faint 8-bit letters on a grey screen, the words "SCN%" appeared.
He laughed. "Dang, this thing's old!"
Hannah looked up. He pointed to the screen.
