There's an insidious evil emanating from our television that only Beatrice can sense.
Each time one of them comes on she stops everything she's doing and fixates on the screen.
Eyes glaze, drool drools, face slackens -- it hypnotizes her and traps her in a muted bubble of candy-coated mind control.
Drugs. Legal drugs. Mainstream pharmaceuticals as baby whisperers ensuring a future market that fixes every ailment and woe.
Like words from ancient Sumerian script, they are undecipherable to us, but to Bea, they are keys to transdimensional travel and a lifetime of possible chemical dependency.
How do we stop this marketing mind and body control?
Um, sure, we could turn the TV off, go outside and play. Good idea.
Beatrice, give me the remote. Beatrice. Beatrice, are listening to me?
This was a test of the baby mind control prevention guild. This was only a test.