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around in slow circles, his hands over his ears to block the sound of the shrill alarm. There is a terrified expression on his face, and he looks like he'll burst into tears at any second.
    Bea crouches in front of the TV. Her husband peers up at her and she realizes that for a man with great memory recall, he's never once acknowledged how badly he's treated her.
    "You've been controlling me for years, Harry. I think it's time for you to be…remote."
    * * *
    Harry is panting so rapidly he feels like he'll pass out. The alarm threatens to burst his ear drums.
    "Think, Harry!"
    His ticket home―his old pal RC―is on the living room floor in his house. In another country, for crying out loud. And he's sure he heard Bea say something just before he vanished.
    Maybe she can see me, he thinks.
    He has no idea how this part works.
    Maybe I should've set up a video camera to tape the television.
    "Maybe I never should've tried for the gold," he berates himself.
    The alarm shuts off.
    "Thank you, God."
    He hears a dull thud. His heart begins to race as he realizes there's only one reason for the alarm to shut off. The police must have arrived, and any minute they're going to come swarming through the vault door to arrest him.
    "They'll put me in jail," he cries. "I can't go to jail."
    He realizes there's only one thing left to do. If in fact Bea can see him on the television, he must plead with her to push the memory button.
    "Bea, if you can hear me, you've got to press the memory button on the remote control."
    He hears more clanging on the other side of the vault door.
    "Please, Bea. Push the memory button!"
    Maybe she can't hear me.
    The vault door lets out a hiss. It's about to open and when it does Harry's fate will be sealed.
    "Bea! Press memory! We can go on holidays, buy a new house, anything you want."
    Harry never even considers that his wife might have other plans―plans that don't include Harold Fielding and his gargantuan belly and his mean-spirited temper.
    * * *
    Bea watches her husband on the TV and carefully considers her options.
    "Quick!" Harry cries out, quaking in fear. "You have to press the memory button!"
    He looks pitiful on the screen. Small, weak, pathetic.
    Bea's fearful expression begins to transform. Her lips curve upward into a slight smile and the twinkle returns to her eyes.
    Behind Harry the vault door is opening.
    "Bea!" he bellows. "Press the goddamn memory button!"
    Her finger hesitates over the red button. One touch and Harry might come home.
    "Hurry up, for God's sake!" Harry growls. "Why are you always so damned slow at everything? Move your fat ass!"
    Even smart men can be stupid. And this time, Harry has pushed her too far.
    Bea heaves a sigh. "So I have the fat ass, do I?"
    Her finger moves to the top of the remote. The large button, upper right.
    "Bea! Push the memory button or so help me I'll―"
    She turns off the TV.
    For ten minutes, Bea doesn't move. She just gazes into the blank screen of the old television, wondering about Harry's fate. She knows one thing for sure. Harry got his wish for fame and fortune. His infamy will send him to prison. His fingerprints all over the gold will keep him there for decades.
    Let's hope Bea can live with what she's done.
    The five gold bars she finds the next morning in the garbage bag on Harry's recliner might help.
    As for Harry, he has finally learned the greatest lesson of all. All the wishing in the world can't bring you the kind of fame or fortune you desire. You've got to work hard for these.
    What about you, dear reader? Are you wishing for something? For fame, fortune or freedom?
    If so, just remember these words…
    Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.
     
    ~ * ~
     

Message from Cheryl:
     
    I hope you enjoyed REMOTE CONTROL as much as I enjoyed writing it. I wrote a shorter version back in 1987 as part of a Journalism and Short Story Writing course I was taking at the time. REMOTE CONTROL was one of my favorite