If I wanted normal life, I wouldn't be watching TV...

Around age 19 I really needed a heavy dose of some other reality, but I still refused TV.

Actually, the only TV in the rental cottage I shared belonged to Pam and Vinny. -- Class A assholes. I would rather be reading about what the vultures did to their carcasses, but I will have to settle for memories.

While I sat in my room at night watching shadows move on the walls, missing the guy that left me for someone with long red hair and proper New York accent, I often wondered if my slow-leaking tire would be flat in the morning. Every week I found myself rolling the stupid thing to the corner station for air. Generally I remembered to fill it while I got gas, but on occasions when a friend is puking streaks of colorful vomit along the side of the dented up Tercel, I just wanted to get home.

Pam and Vinny and I shared a wall between our bedrooms. On their side of the wall was the beloved color television. On the other side was me. Across their room, they slept with heads propped toward the beautiful television with its volume jacked to reach over a whining air conditioner. Loud infomercials blared about the wonders of things, just inches from my head.

I prayed for their death or an act of God. Making my rounds for something new that would be the cure for sadness, I regularly hunted through thrift shops. They were also the only stores I could afford. Something in the back of my head must have been whittling away at solutions for Pam and Vinny. On a shelf disturbing the dust was a wind-up alarm clock that had not been there the week before. That's the answer. I wound it and set it. A few hours later I adjusted its speed so it kept perfect time.

I plunked my little Big Ben on the floor by my bed and waited. As the Pam and Vinny TV ran into infomercial crap, I knew they were out.

Creeping to the circuit panel in the hall, I started flipping breakers until I heard the damn TV shut off.

They awoke in a frenzy. They were, hot, sticky, and late for work. Poor bastards.