I participated last month in an Instagram writing challenge, which took characters from a current work in progress and dropped them into different TV shows. The following is a compilation of the daily prompts. It was a ton of fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it! If you want to read it in serialized form, follow me on Instagram.

Day 1 - Murder, She Wrote

“Bud, stop watching TV! We have to deliver the flowers for the Myers-Michealson wedding!”

“Trying to, sis. There’s something wrong with the remote. It won’t turn off,” Bud banged the remote on the coffee table, causing my carefully organized pile of invoices to slide to the floor.

“Oh great, see what you’ve… what’s happening?”

“I don’t know, I’m… Daisy - where’d you go?”

“I’m right here…”

“What the… how’d you get on the TV screen? Is this some new app?”

I looked around. I was standing in a vaulted entryway, all dark wood and marble tiles. I shivered, not just from the cool air in the room, but with foreboding. Something weird was going on. 

“Bud?” I called, my voice bouncing around the empty room.

“Daze?” His voice was coming from my bluetooth earpiece. 

“Where am I?” My voice rose in hysteria. “Where are you?”

“I’m… still here. In the living room. You’re… you’re in the television. You’re on a TV show.”

I threw my arms up. “Oh, that’s just great. How…” Voices coming down the hallway silenced me. “Someone’s coming.” I ducked behind a flower urn as a woman and a man entered the room. She was in her mid-to-late 50s, with short blonde feathered hair. She wore a belted trenchcoat and huge tortoiseshell glasses. The man she was speaking to was dressed in someone’s idea of a butler’s uniform. “Bud,” I hissed, “what do I do?”

“Wait a sec,” he whispered back. “I recognize her. That’s the writer lady from Nick at Nite. You know, the one who kept getting invited places even though every time she showed up someone died? What was her deal anyway? I’ll bet you anything she was the real killer and kept pinning it on everyone else...”

“Bud, this is no time for conspiracy theories!”

“Oh right… changing the channel, stupid piece of…” I heard another bang as he hit the remote against the table. “Okay, Daze, hang on…”

Click.

Day 2 - Midsomer Murders

Crickets chirped, a warm breeze blew against my cheek. I was standing in a field of flowers so picturesque I rubbed my eyes to make sure it was real. Well, real was rapidly becoming surreal, but still. This was much better than that dark, foreboding mansion. 

Then I looked down and saw the dead body at my feet. Next to it sat a bloody pie plate, still holding most of a lemon meringue.

“Bud!” I screamed. 

“Hold up miss,” an English-accented voice called. “DCI Barnaby and I need to ask you a few questions.” 

I whirled around and saw a car parked at the opposite edge of the field. Two men in suits were moving toward me. The green road sign behind them read: “Welcome to Midsomer County.”

Bud’s voice came through my earpiece: “Don’t panic. Chantal and I watch a lot of BritBox. Those are the good guys. You don’t need to worry unless you see…”

“Oh, hello. Do you need help?” 

I turned again, my back to the advancing inspectors, and saw a tall blonde woman, holding a gingham cloth-covered picnic basket. She smiled warmly, her blue eyes friendly under her pageboy fringe. I started to move toward her. 

“Daisy, no!”

I froze. “What now?”

Bud’s voice was urgent. “That’s Joyce Barnaby!”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Don’t you read Reddit? She’s the serial killer of Midsomer! Waaaaay worse than that Jessica Fletcher lady. Run!” 

I started running, and the footsteps behind me sped up. “Bud, get me out of here!” I ran through the field into a small grove of trees, raising my arms against the branches that whipped across my face. 

“I’m trying, I’m—”

Click.

Day 3 - Law & Order

Chung chung.

“NO.”

“Right. Sorry. Here we go.”

Click.

Day 4 - Scooby Doo Where Are You!

I shielded my eyes against the swirling psychedelic colors, all teals and oranges. There was something strange about my hand. I looked closer. It was… animated.

“Jinkies,” I breathed in amazement. 

…Did I just say “Jinkies?” Was I…

“Time to see who this ghost really is.”

Peering around the Mystery Machine, I saw Fred pull a sheet from a figure tied to a chair. In my agitated (not to mention animated) state, it took me a moment to recognize Bud, his blond hair smoothed out to a uniform color, his body and usual uniform of khaki shorts, cargo boots and “I Call Drums” t-shirt rendered two-dimensional. In his hand was a black rectangle. The TV remote.

Fred stared at Bud. “You’re not Farmer Jenkins.” He looked to Daphne and Velma who shrugged in confusion. 

Taking advantage of the moment, I rushed forward, grabbed Bud’s hand, and pressed the channel button. There was a zap! And a fizzing sound like static.

“Zoinks! Like, our ghost is a ghost, Scoob!” I heard Shaggy shout as Bud and I winked out.

Day 5 - Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries

We materialized in the foyer of a grandly decorated Victorian home. 

“Oh, hello,” a voice called from above. Looking up, we saw a beautiful woman dressed in silk pajamas and a dressing gown descending the staircase. Beside me, Bud straightened, sucking in his (once again three-dimensional) stomach. I elbowed him in the side.

She eyed us, taking in our rumpled appearance. “I’m Phryne Fisher,” she said, extending her hand. “And you are…”

“Daisy Bluhm. And this is my brother Bud.” 

“Nice to meet you. We’re lost.” Bud went to shake hands. Unfortunately, his were still tied together. I swatted him and he lowered his hands sheepishly. “It’s complicated.” 

A corner of Miss Fisher’s mouth twitched. “Apparently so. Come with me. Mr. Butler will cut you loose and Dot will fix some tea while I phone Detective Inspector Robinson.” 

We were just finishing our tea when the doorbell rang. “Jack! Hugh! In here!” Miss Fisher called.

“Really, could you not refer to us as Detective Inspector and Constable?” Jack grumbled, entering the room.

Phryne waved him off. “Jack, I apologize for my urgent call, but these strangely-attired people are lost, and I thought you and Hugh…”

Meanwhile, Hugh had picked up the TV remote Bud had left on the table. “What’s this, then?” he asked, fiddling with the buttons.

“No!” Bud and I shouted.

Click.

Day 6 - Miami Vice

A deserted alley. From all around, the opening sounds of Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight” played. I could just make out the sounds of footsteps nearby, followed by men’s voices. 

What were we going to do? We’d left the remote in Australia. In the 1920s. My mind spun with the hopelessness of our situation.

“Daze,” Bud hissed, tugging at my sleeve. “This way.” 

We kept to the shadows, making our way toward a black Ferrari convertible that sat parked in a pool of light under the lone street lamp.

The keys were still in the ignition. 

Bud glanced around, then jumped into the driver’s seat. “Come on.”

I hesitated. “We’re going to steal a car?”

An explosion of gunshots sent me diving into the passenger’s seat. Bud revved the engine and reversed down the alley. Heart pounding, I fumbled for my seatbelt as we sped away, drums escalating into the the song’s chorus.

Day 7 - Writer’s Choice….

“Where are we going?” I asked as we raced north on I-95, away from Miami. 

“We’re getting out of here,” Bud answered, his normally cheery face grim. “We’ll drive back to Denver and fix the TV ourselves if we have to.”

This was all getting too meta for me. Hoping for a distraction, I fiddled with the radio, silencing Phil Collins.

Static, static…

“Today on Only Murders in the Building, we examine the list of possible reasons why Daisy and Bud are trapped in their television,” the familiar voice of TV’s Brazzos rang out. 

I stared at Bud, wide-eyed. “Did you hear that, or am I hallucinating?” (Please let me be hallucinating, I thought. Let all this be a hallucination brought on by too much Gut Milk.)

“Is it a dream? Is it a curse? Alien abduction?” Brazzos continued. “We’ll discuss our theories and how singer-songwriter Sting may be behind the whole operation.”

Day 8 - The X-Files

From out of nowhere, a road block appeared. 

Bud slammed on the brakes. The Ferrari screeched to a halt inches from the bumper of an unmarked black car. Bud cut the engine and sat there shaking.

A figure emerged from the darkness, his face obscured behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. I waved my hand and coughed, pointedly. 

“Daisy Bluhm, Bud Bluhm. Come with me,” our faceless visitor commanded. I looked at Bud and shook my head. No way.

“No thanks, man,” Bud called. “The truth may be out there, but we’re staying in the car.

“Interesting choice.” Cigarette Smoking Man pointed a blinking device at us.

Click.

Day 9 - The X Factor

I sprawled on the floor. Bright lights shone all around, blinding me.

“Oh my God…” Bud moaned next to me. “We’ve been abducted by aliens.”

I pushed up to sitting. “I think we’re on a stage.” I motioned to the big red X under us.

Bud sat up, blinking and looking around. “Aw come on!  The Ferrari’s gone too?”

“Daisy? Bud?”

“Mom?” we called in unison. Her voice was coming from all around us, not just in my earpiece.

“What in the world are you two doing on television? You’re supposed to be delivering flowers right now. Wait until your father hears about this.”

“Where are you?”

“In the living room, of course. I was going to have a cup of tea and watch Bake Off.” A pause. “Only I can’t find the remote.”

“Excuse me,” a stern voice cut in. “But we don’t have time for family reunions. We’re attempting to determine if you’ve got the X Factor.”

Bud stared down Simon. “Well, we’re trying to determine where and when we are, dude. So you can take your X Factor and…”

“Right.” Simon stood and crossed over to the Golden Buzzer. “This should send you where you belong.” He brought his palm down. Lights flared and confetti fell from the ceiling as Bud and I disappeared.

Day 10 - Bewitched

“You’re not Darrin.”

Samantha Stephens stared as Bud and I walked through the front door. I looked down. We were in black and white. 

“Afraid not.” I stepped forward. “We’re Daisy and Bud, and we’re lost in our television.”

“Well…” she looked peeved. “I’ll put up with a lot, I’ll put up with multiple Darrins, but I’m not putting up with strangers.” She wrinkled up her nose.

Doodle-oodle-oo.

Day 11 - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

“I’ve got a theory,” I sang. Giles leaned in, listening intently. “That it’s a hashtag.”

“A cursed hashtag? No that would be confusing,” Giles sang back. 

“I’ve got a theory,” sang Bud, air guitaring along, “Joanna’s writing, and we’re all stuck inside her caffeinated musings.”

Buffy danced into the room, backed by Tara and Anya:

“It’s just like before

We’ve been here before

Someone summoned a demon

Once More With Feeling.” 

They ended in a girl-group pose, jazz hands splayed. 

“Or maybe bunnies…” Anya trailed off. 

Bud and I looked at each other. “Mom!” I shouted into the air. “Did you summon a demon to curse the remote control?”

“Don’t be silly,” she answered, her disembodied voice offended. “It was probably your father.”

“Actually,” Aunt  Agnes said, appearing in the Magic Shoppe doorway, “It was me.” 

“It was Agnes all aloooong,” Xander sang softly. 

“Knock it off,” Buffy scolded. “That’s not our show.” Xander shrugged.

I ignored them. “What did you do to us?” I demanded, fighting the urge to sing. My foot tapped out a rhythm. 

“Yeah,” Bud added, shuffle-stepping over and executing a pirouette. “What’s the deal, Aunt Agnes?”

“You two have to learn to work together if you’re going to take over the flower shop.” Agnes gave us a hard stare, her eyes huge and unblinking behind her thick black glasses. “Only when you finally learn that you need each other, will you win this back.” She reached into her Vera Bradley bag and produced the familiar remote control, her apple-doll face wrinkling in glee. “Until then, have fun on your travels.”

“Grr. Argh,” Bud said.

Click.

Day 12 - Friends “The One With the Daisy and Bud”

We landed with a ‘whoomp’ on a cushy floral couch in the nicest apartment I’d ever seen.

“Okay, this question is for Team Bluhm,” Phoebe read off her notecard, “Which words best describe the Bluhm siblings?”

“Could these questions BE any more random?” Chandler groused. “We don’t even know these people.”

“I can answer that!” Mom’s voice came from above..

“Mr. Heckles sounds weird today,” Rachel stage-whispered to me.

Mom continued: “Bud is a dreamer, and Daisy is stubbornly independent.” 

“Wrong! The answer I was looking for was ‘leafy.’” Phoebe tossed the card over her shoulder. “Leafy.” She waved her arms in demonstration.

I pulled Bud aside as the gang continued their quiz. “You heard Agnes. We have to work together if we want out of this mess.”

“By playing games?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be there for you - Hey-o!!!” Bud held his hand up for a high five. I groaned, but obliged. 

“It’s time for my show,” Joey called. He picked up the remote control. “This is the one where Dr. Drake Ramoray wakes up from his coma.”

I looked at Bud. He looked at me. “Well, it hasn’t been our day, our week, our month, or even our year,” he sang.

Click. 

Day 13 - The Office

“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.” The receptionist listened, then held the phone out. “It’s for you.”

“Hello?”

“Daisy,” Aunt Agnes’s voice was brisk. “You and Bud need to stop playing around and take this seriously.”

“We are taking this seriously...” I broke off at the sight of Bud and Jim crazy-glueing Dwight’s desk drawers closed. “Okay, you’re right.”

“What are your strengths? What are his? You need to find ways to cooperate. You only get thirty-one chances to get home, and you’ve already used thirteen of them. Get moving. And Daisy?”

“Yes?”

“Click.”

Day 14 - The Addams Family

We sat on the steps of a dilapidated Victorian mansion. We were black and white again, but I hardly noticed. 

“Agnes says we’re going about this the wrong way,” I said, drumming my fingers on my leg. “She says we have to combine our strengths to get home.”

Bud looked as frustrated as I felt. “Which strengths? Are you going to create a spreadsheet to send us home?”

“Maybe,” I snapped. “Or maybe you’ll air-guitar us a stairway to Denver,” 

Mom’s sigh echoed around us. “Could you two stop bickering? I raised you better than this.”

“Yes, ma’am,” we answered in unison.

“Don’t worry, Sis. I’m sure we can figure it out,” Bud said. A hand patted my back reassuringly, then skittered across the porch.

Jumping up, I whirled to see Thing join the rest of the Addams Family in the open doorway. 

“Remember, Querida,” Gomez said, “Family always has your back.” 

“And your alibi,” Wednesday added. 

Snap-snap.

Day 15 - Late Night with Seth Meyers

Bud and I sat on the guest couch, while our host fussed with his notes and took a sip of coffee. 

“Welcome Daisy and Bud Bluhm. You two have been causing quite a stir lately, messing up people’s reruns.”

‘Well Seth,” I began, smoothing my skirt and pushing my hair behind my ears, “It’s complicated. See, our father is ill, and Bud and I need to work together to save our family’s flower shop. However, we don’t always see eye-to-eye on things, so…”

Bud jumped in. “So Aunt Agnes —she’s not really our aunt, but a family friend— she somehow enchanted our remote control and sent us on this Topsy-Turvy TV Tour.” Bud turned to the camera and winked hugely at challenge hosts @writertracybrown, @brookpetersonauthor, and @saffron.amatti. 

I picked up the story while Bud finished mugging for the audience. “She claims she’s teaching us to work together.” 

Seth stared at us, his coffee cup frozen halfway to his mouth. “An enchanted remote control? Really?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“Believe me, I know how it sounds. But check this out.” I pointed to the assistant director. “Can you roll the Seinfeld clip, please?”

Day 16 - Seinfeld

INTERIOR-DINER

Daisy and Bud sit at a booth with Jerry, Elaine, and George.

Jerry: So you want our advice on how to write a TV show.

Daisy: Yes, Jerry, er, Mr. Seinfeld. We believe if we successfully rewrite the script, instead of simply popping in and out of scenes, we can write our ticket home.

Bud: So to speak. (Audience laughs)

George: You realize our show is a show about nothing, right?

Daisy: Yes…

George (voice escalating): So you can’t turn nothing into more nothing! It’s impossible! (Audience cheers)

Elaine: Of course you can. You just write the script, and yadda yadda yadda, you’re home. 

Newman appears at the table: Jerry. (Pause.) Bud.

Jerry and Bud: Helloooo, Newman. (Hold for applause.)

End clip.

Day 17 - The Munsters

“What was that?” Seth asked, annoyed. “That was a clip about nothing. How am I supposed to promote that?”

“Yeah, that idea was a bust,” I agreed, signalling the AD. “What about this one?”

The theme from The Munsters started to play. Bud and I were in an old jalopy, once again in black and white.

“I know this riff.. hey, are we in a Fall Out Boy video?” Bud looked around. 

I rolled my eyes. “No, we’re in the backseat of the Munster Koach.” I motioned to Herman, who took his eyes off the bumpy road briefly to glance back at us. “Mr. Munster, sir. Do you have any advice for us?”

“What matters is the size of your heart and the strength of your character,” Herman said. “That’s the lesson I want you to learn.”

End clip.

“Well,” said Seth, surreptitiously wiping a tear from his eye, “That was just… lovely.” 

I sniffled and tried to ignore Bud wiping his nose on the hem of his shirt. “It really was.”

The stage lights flickered, once, twice, and the whole Late Night studio plunged into darkness. 

Day 18 - The Twilight Zone

We floated through a starry sky, accompanied by the voice of Rod Serling: You're traveling through another dimension, a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination...

Mom: Excuse me. I’m the only voice my children should be listening to. 

Rod Serling: Yes ma’am. My apologies.

Mom: That’s better. Bud, Daisy. Have you figured out what you need to do yet? 

Me: I know that it has to do with strength, character, and trusting your family. 

Bud: You know, I would really love it if we could stop spinning through space. I think I’m going to hurl…

Mom: Well, I don’t know how this thing works…  Bert?

Dad: Yes, Ruth? 

Mom: Come in here and fix the fifth dimension!

The sky shook as Dad hit the side of the television.

Rod: Excuse me, could I make a suggestion?

Mom (sounding grumpy): Fine. 

Rod: If you like, I can set Daisy and Bud down somewhere they can work together to complete this challenge and, in doing so, find their way home.

Bud: Yes! I vote for that. Anything to get away from this big creepy eyeball. 

Me: I agree with Bud. Put us down. We’ll do anything!

Rod: You are now entering… The Topsy Turvy Zone.

Day 19 - The Big Bang Theory

Bud and I stood in a bare, windowless room, facing a single gray metal door.

“What is this?” Bud voiced the question I was thinking. 

Through the door walked a Man In Black. In one hand, he held a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. 

He held out his other hand in a fist. “To win, you must successfully beat me in a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock.”

I pushed Bud out of the way. “I got this.” I held out my fist and we counted, “ One… two…”

On “three” the Man In Black held up the Vulcan sign.

“Ha!” I cried, making a chomping motion. “Lizard poisons Spock.” 

The Man nodded. “Well played. Here is your prize.” 

From the briefcase he produced a single sheet of paper and handed it to me before exiting. 

“Okay, what just happened?” Bud asked looking from the door to me.

I shrugged. “I could tell you about probability and equilibrium strategy. I could even make a spreadsheet,” I winked. “But really I just knew that everybody chooses Spock.”

“Pretty sneaky, Sis.” Bud clapped his hand on my shoulder. “So what did we win?”

We studied the paper. “It’s a list of prompts,” I said as understanding dawned. “It’s a list of the shows we need to visit to get home.” 

I grabbed Bud’s hand and pulled him into the deserted hallway. 

“Come on, I know where we’re going.”

Day 20 - Penny Dreadful

Mom’s voice bounced off the walls. “Where are you going?”

I glanced down at the paper in my hand. “Penny Dreadful.” 

“Do you mean that girl Bud dated in high school? Ugh…”

Bud cut her off. “Not helping, Ma.”

The hallway began to fade away, transforming into a dark alley. Fog rose around us. I shivered.

“Where’s your coat, young lady?” 

I sighed.”I don’t have one, Mom. I didn’t exactly come prepared for this.”

Bud froze as a bat swooped across our path.

“Bats freak me out.”

“I know.” I squeezed his hand. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

“This is too scary,” Mom called as we continued. “Let me know when you get to the next prompt. I’m going to make popcorn.”

A large picture in a heavy gilt frame appeared out of the fog. A shrunken and chained figure stared out at us. 

“Whoa, that is one seriously messed-up old dude.”

“Look behind him.”I checked my list and then pointed at the ‘Supernatural’ logo in the painting’s background. “That’s where we’re going next.”

Summoning my courage, I stepped out of the alley, over the frame, and into the portrait. 

Day 21 - Supernatural 

We stepped into another plain room, similar to the one where we’d bested the Man in Black. This one, however, was furnished with a wooden kitchen table and four chairs. In the center of the table sat a black rotary phone.

Two of the chairs were occupied by men in plaid shirts. One of them made a ‘come in’ gesture and pointed to the two empty chairs. Bud and I sat down.

“Uh, hi?” I said, looking between the two strangers. Brothers, they had to be. “Is this, uh, Supernatural?”

They laughed. “Sure is,” the one with the longer hair said. “I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean.”What can we do for you?”

“Well,” I cleared my throat, unsure of how to start, “This may sound unbelievable, but…”

Sam interrupted. “Unbelievable is our business. Skip to the point.”

Bud jumped in. “My sister and I need to learn to work together to take over our family business.” 

“Can you help us with that?” I finished for him. 

Dean looked amused. “My brother and I have worked together for fifteen years. It’s important to always respect the other’s perspective. You each bring something to the table.” He knocked his fist on the wood. “Metaphorically speaking, that is.” 

“Love is the thing that will save you,” Sam spoke up. “It’s what gets you through the toughest times. I tell you, we’ve been to Hell and back...” 

“Metaphorically speaking?” Bud asked.

Sam grinned. “Sure man, whatever.”

The phone on the table rang. Sam picked it up and listened a moment. Replacing the receiver, he pointed to the door. “That’s all the time we have. She’s ready for you now.”

Day 22 - The Ghost Whisperer

“What did he mean by ‘She’s ready for us?’” Bud whispered as we were ushered out the Winchester’s door. 

“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “Why are we whispering?”

Bud pointed to the list of prompts. “See? The Ghost Whisperer.”

The hallway had transformed again, this time into an antique shop. Melinda Gordon leaned against an ornate desk, arms crossed. 

“I have a message from Aunt Agnes. She says you have just nine prompts left, so you better get busy.” She pointed to the doorway at the back of her shop. “Your next challenge is right through there.”

Day 23 - I Love Lucy

Bud halted, just shy of the doorway. 

I barely avoided colliding into him. “Ugh, why’d you stop?”

Bud ran a hand through his hair. “Look.”

On the other side of the doorway was the Queen of Comedy, Lucille Ball. She was dressed in combat boots, cargo shorts, and an “I Call Drums” t shirt - the same outfit as my brother. She ran a hand over her iconic red hair in an exact replication of Bud’s movements. 

“What...” I started.

Bud held up his hand. Lucy held up her hand. “It’s the next challenge,” he said out of the side of his mouth. 

I stood by and watched as Bud and Lucy performed an almost-balletic routine of mirrored actions - making faces, jumping in and out of the doorway. At one point, they both donned black top hats.  

“Where’d you get those? I asked, incredulous. 

“No idea.” Bud and Lucy shrugged.

The grand finale was an air guitar showdown, ending with both parties in a power stance, shredding their imaginary axes. In unison, they raised their arms in a “rock on” salute. 

I couldn’t help it; I broke into applause. 

Lucy smiled and motioned for Bud to hold out his hand. She dropped two AA batteries into his outstretched palm. The logo on the batteries read “Desilu.” 

“Great job, Buddy!” I hugged him. “We’ve got the batteries for the remote.” 

Bud wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead and smiled. “Promise you’ll never again doubt the power of a solid air guitar riff.”

I smiled back. “I promise.”

Day 24 - Twin Peaks

We were still laughing when the room began to change around us.

“What’s this? What’s happening?” Mom’s voice was muffled, as if her mouth was full of popcorn. ”What’d I miss?”

“Don’t know, Ma,” Bud said, spinning slowly, taking in the new room that was coming into focus. “We just got here too.”

A red and white chevron-patterned floor materialized, followed by red velvet curtains. A series of letters glowed on one wall. Eerie jazz music floated in from an unseen source. 

I looked at the prompt list: “Twin Peaks?”

“Oh no,” Mom said between crunches. “I’ve heard about this show. You get out of there right now.”

Ignoring her, Bud pulled back the curtains. “There’s a mirror.”

I sounded out the words.“‘Gnimoc si retniw? What does that mean?”

Bud joined me. “Maybe it’s a spell, like in Harry Potter.”

“Never read it, never saw it.” 

Bud looked at me in disbelief. “Don’t you ever have fun?”

“Gnimoc si retniw…” I muttered, pacing. 

“Is it getting colder in here?” Bud shivered. 

I stopped in the middle of the room. It was getting colder. I watched Bud trace the letters with his finger. I turned and looked in the mirror, reading out loud the message reflected back: “Winter… is… coming…”

“It’s only October.”

“No, “ I said, marching across the room and turning Bud around by the shoulders. “Winter is coming.” 

As I spoke, the words faded away and the mirror iced over. 

Day 25 - Game of Thrones

The glass cracked, slowly at first, then faster, spider-webbing across the surface. Snowflakes blew in through the fissures. The wind whistled, a high keening sound. 

Crack… crack….

The mirror exploded into shards of ice. 

Bud and I threw ourselves to the ground, covering our heads. The prompt list fell from my hand and blew away. The wind howled and the snow pelted down. 

“Kids…”

“Not now, Mom.” I sat up, brushing snow and icicles from my arms. 

“Kids,” her voice rose with urgency. “I think you need to...” 

“Run!” Bud pulled me to my feet. 

I didn’t ask questions. I ran after my brother.

The Twin Peaks lounge stretched into a long hallway, like something out of Wonderland. At the far end, we could see a large wooden door, held open by a heavyset grey-haired man swathed in a variety of animal pelts.

We ran as fast as we could toward him.

“Hold the door dude!” Bud hollered. “Hold the door! Hold the door!”

We squeezed through the doorway, Bud hauling the man with us. The door slammed closed and whatever it was that had chased us howled in frustration at losing its prey. 

We were safe.

“Thanks, man. You’re the best.” Bud fist-bumped our rescuer. 

Day 26 - The Great British Bake Off Pt. 1

The cave melted away like snow in Spring.

Bud, Hodor, and I stood in an airy white tent. The smell of bread and cookies made my stomach grumble. It had been ages since our meal with Miss Fisher. 

“Today’s challenge,” a cheery male voice piped up behind us, “is to make your sibling’s favorite childhood treat.”

We turned as one to see Paul Hollywood, Dame Prue Leith, and host Noel Fielding standing behind us. 

Noel spread his arms wide. “Welcome to the Great British Bake Off!”

“YES!” Mom crowed. 

Prue stepped forward and put an arm around Hodor. “This gentleman looks like he could do with a nice hot cup of tea,” she said, leading him away. 

Paul gave Bud and I a piercing stare. “There’s no talking with each other for this challenge.” He looked up to the ceiling. “And no outside help. You’re relying solely on how well you know one another. Got it?”

“You have one and a half prompts to complete this challenge. On your marks, get set, bake!” Noel sang. 

Bud and I moved quickly to our work stations, which were loaded with a variety of baking staples. I hesitated for a moment, then got to work.

Day 27 - The Great British Bake Off Pt. 2

Bud and I stood before Paul, Noel, and Prue. Our bakes sat on the gingham tablecloth, each covered by a coordinating napkin. 

“All right,” Paul rubbed his hands together. “Let’s start with this one.” He pulled the first napkin off, revealing a plate of Rice Krispie treats, my brother’s favorite dessert.

“Aw, Daze, you remembered!” Bud gave me a one-armed hug. “Those look delicious.” 

Paul and Prue nodded in agreement. “Excellent, crisp texture,” Pru murmured, taking a bite. “Exactly the type of snack a big sister would make for her little brother after school.” Bud nodded, having already shoved two treats into his mouth. 

“And now, for this one…” Paul whisked the napkin away, revealing a box of Honey Maid graham crackers and a glass of milk. 

I stared at Bud. “How did…” 

Paul’s sharp blue eyes pinned me. “Is he wrong?”

“N-no…” I stammered. “He’s totally right. It’s just...how did you get those? They weren’t part of our ingredients.”

Bud looked at me, nonplussed. “Really? We get sucked into twenty-six TV shows by an enchanted remote control and you’re questioning the graham crackers?”

Meanwhile, Paul and Prue had both dunked a cookie in milk and were chewing thoughtfully. Paul moved around the table and approached us, hand out. 

“A Hollywood handshake!” Mom gasped. “That’s…” she trailed off, speechless for quite possibly the first time in her life. 

We took turns shaking Paul’s hand, and accepted hugs from Noel and Prue. 

“Congratulations, you are both Star Bakers!” Noel said. He held out a small ticket to me. “Your prize is ready for pick up.”

I looked at the layaway ticket in my hand, then at Bud. “Next stop, the mall.” 

Day 28 - Stranger Things

We exited the Bake Off tent and were deposited directly into the atrium of Starcourt Mall in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Okay,” I said, glancing at the ticket. “We need to find RadioShack.” 

Bud located the store directory. “Got it.” 

We took off at a trot, arriving just as a bored-looking employee was pulling down the metal grate. 

Bud banged his hands in frustration on the gate. “C’mon man, let us in. We only need to pick up one thing!” 

I waved the ticket in the air. “See? We have our ticket.” I spied a “Customer Pick Up” sign on a shelf behind the counter. “It’s right there; I can see it!  The remote!”

The RadioShack employee looked between us and the counter, debating, then shuffled away, having obviously decided the effort was too much. The store lights flickered out.

“Do you need help?”

Eleven joined us at the gate, looking concerned. 

“Oh, awesome, yes!” Bud snatched the ticket from my hand and held it out to the girl. “Our remote control is on that shelf. Do you think you could possibly…” he held arm out straight and wiggled his fingers, “Get it for us?”

She, too, looked undecided. “Is it important?”

“Yes!” we both cried. 

“Are you lying?”

Bud laid his hands on her shoulders. “Friends don’t lie.” 

She nodded. “Okay.” She raised her arm and a moment later the remote shot from the shelf and into her waiting hand. She offered it to us. 

“Thank you so much!” Bud gave Eleven a bone-crushing hug. “Here you go.” He produced two Rice Krispy treats wrapped in a gingham napkin. You’ll like these.” He winked. “Even better than Eggos.” 

From behind us came a low growl. Eleven, Bud, and I whirled around. 

“Ugh, why does this feel like the NeverEnding Storrrr-yyyyy?” Bud moaned as a swarm of zombies approached. 

Day 29 - The Walking Dead 

The Walkers were closing in. 

I fumbled with the remote but my shaking hands wouldn’t cooperate. Bud moved in front of me, wielding a plastic lunch tray from the food court, ready to fight. 

Eleven stepped forward and, with a flourish, flung the Walkers against the walls. They dropped into a heap like broken toys.

“Huh.” Bud lowered his tray. “That was handy. Thanks, El.” 

Eleven stared at the pile of motionless bodies. “Mouthbreathers,” she muttered in disgust. She turned on her heel and stalked off, thumbing away a small trickle of blood from under her nose. 

I finally managed to slot the Desilu batteries into the remote and closed the cover. “Ready to go home?” 

“You bet.” Bud took the controller from my unsteady grasp and pressed “Power.” RadioShack’s TV display flared to life, and…

Click. 

Day 30 - The Simpsons

My hands were animated (again). They were yellow. I was missing a finger on each. 

“Why you little…” I grabbed for Bud’s throat, ready to throttle him. 

He dodged me and danced away, cackling, “Don’t have a cow, man. This is just a quick stop to pay respect to our origin material - Treehouse of Horror IX, Season 10, Episode 4, ‘The Terror of Tiny Toon.’” 

He snapped his cartoon fingers and the Simpsons’ famous TV console appeared.

We watched the show-within-show as Bart and Lisa ran from an axe-wielding cat and mouse duo. On the opposite side of the screen, Homer scratched his backside with a plutonium-charged remote control. 

“Okay, yes, thank you Mr. Groening,” I relented. “Now please, Bud, send us home.” 

“Home? Why, you’ve always had the power to go home.” Aunt Agnes’s voice surrounded us. We watched, open-mouthed, as a large pink bubble floated down from the sky. 

Day 31 - The Wizard of Oz/The End

The bubble landed and Aunt Agnes emerged, dressed as Glinda. Her giant crown slipped forward and knocked her glasses askew.

Bud turned to me. “Does it count as TV if it’s only shown on holidays?”

I shushed him. “Today is Halloween, Joanna’s favorite holiday. And this is her favorite movie. Don’t ask questions.”

Agnes glided toward us, adjusting her head wear. “Congratulations! You’ve learned to work together and to respect one another’s talents. You’re ready.”

She pointed her wand at the remote, indicating the button with the house outline. “Simply press this and repeat after me.” 

Bud and I looked at each other and burst into laughter. He pressed the “Home” button and took my hand. We closed our eyes and spoke in unison: 

“There’s no place like Home, there’s no place like Home…”

Opening my eyes, I saw Mom, Dad, and Bud standing over me. I was stretched out on the couch in the living room. The remote lay on the floor along with my scattered invoices. 

I sat up, rubbing my head. “I had the strangest dream. I was on TV. You and you- and you- were there….”

Bud looked at me strangely. ”I had that dream too.”

Dad reached down and picked up the discarded controller. “Can you keep it down? There’s an American Ninja Warrior marathon starting…” He raised the remote and pointed it at the television. 

Mom, Bud, and I shouted together: “NO, WAIT, DON’T...” 

Click.