Before she knew it, Ivonne had finished the vampire novel and the day was half gone. She looked around the room and decided continuation of the cleaning could wait until the next day.

Now that the arguing had long since ceased, Ivonne let herself venture outside the bedroom. The dog that had greeted her the previous night sat in the middle of the living room floor, tail wagging back and forth.

"Hello again," Ivonne spoke with a smile. The dog was much prettier in the light. White, dark eyes, and wolfish features. It got up and rubbed its nose against her leg, not unlike a cat. She scratched the fur of its head, right between the ears. The tail wagged faster.

She broke contact with the dog and headed for the futon. She sat on it gradually, testing it. It was quite comfortable, so she allowed herself to recline in full.

The obsidian rock, or what she had thought was an obsidian rock, that was in front of her now had people on it that were talking about things she couldn't comprehend.

"What the…?" That wasn't something you see every day. Not in 1839, at least. Little did Ivonne know, in present day America, it was indeed something one saw every day.

"You can change the channel if you want, I'm not watching it anymore," stated the man whom she assumed was Lauren's father.

Ivonne wondered how one could do that. Channels, she had thought, were bodies of water. "Uh, how do I do that?"

"With the remote control, duh," he answered. "Did you get wasted at that party?"

"No…" She should have though, she thought. She grabbed what she supposed was the remote control. She looked at the buttons. One said 'execute' and she wondered if she pressed it one of the people would get beheaded. She wanted to try it. To her disappointment, no such thing happened. "What's the point of the execute button if it doesn't cut their heads off?"

The man looked at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"What?"

"Who are you?"

Ivonne froze. "What – What do you mean?"

"You're more twisted than I thought."

"Yeah, that's me, I guess," Ivonne replied. She returned her attention to the television. How was one supposed to work that thing? She pressed another button and the people on the screen changed, as did the language. It was a Mexican soccer game. She watched for a moment before hitting another button. The sound disappeared completely.

"Shit, what did I do?" She hit the same button again. The sound came back. "Oh. Okay. Good. I think." Another button and she was nearly startled off her seat. On the screen was a woman who looked similar to her reflection, the one she'd had while in her own body, anyway. Except this woman's hair was slightly better and she was singing in an English accent. Ivonne sounded nothing like that when she sang, but other than than the woman could have been her twin.

"It's priest," the woman onscreen sang. "Have a little priest."

"Is it really good?" sang a man beside her with dark hair that had a wild white streak in it.

"Sir, it's too good, at least."

Ivonne kept watching, intrigued.

"And we'll serve anyone, meaning anyone and to anyone at all!" They sang in unison together and the song ended.

After that, there was a song during which the man onscreen slit the throats of many men, blood splurting everywhere. Ivonne gasped. What the hell was she watching?

Next came a song where the woman was selling pies and one line tipped her off that the pies the woman onscreen was selling were made out of human meat. As a man walked up the stairs to where the murderous man was, the woman sang, "Bless my eyes! Fresh supplies!"

"Ugh. That is bloody disgusting," Ivonne scoffed. Still, that didn't stop her from watching. She was captivated by her likeness to the woman onscreen. And then practically everyone in the whole story died and Ivonne was pissed.

"Seriously? They ended it like that? That's just not right."

The next thing that came on was about a kid who received a letter on his 11th birthday about a school he was chosen to attend and then he was suddenly a wizard. Ivonne found that she quite liked this device that told her stories with actual people. There was nothing to be left to the imagination that way. People back in 1839 simply had no idea what they were missing. Too bad none of them would live to see. She shouldn't even be alive to see, but she wasn't about to complain. It was, in a word, quite awesome, if she did say so herself.