Kind of a weird thing’s been going on with me recently. Nothing really big, at least to begin with, but, anyway.
It happened first last week. Myself (Leonie) and my two flatmates, Em and Therese, were just idling around one evening watching the usual kind of stuff on the TV. Honestly I wasn’t paying any attention to the screen, I was practically asleep after extra shifts at work (just retail, not even worth mentioning) and a week of trying to get in some college assignments. Em and Therese were gossiping together, so, yeah, I don’t actually know why the TV was still on.
Anyway, I suddenly heard Therese call my name.
‘What?’ I struggled out of my doze.
‘You’re not watching this shit, are you?’
‘Not any more than you are.’
‘OK, you got the remote there? Time to call it a day, I think.’
‘Yeah.’ Em backed this up with a humungous yawn.
I grappled around for the remote which had been laying next to me on the couch, jabbed at the power button, without success.
‘Gerron with it,’ Em mumbled. She certainly seemed to have taken on my mantle of somnolence.
‘I’m trying,’ I retorted. But I still couldn’t get it to work. ‘‘Does this thing need a new battery, or something?’
Therese groaned. ‘Oh give it over.’ I skimmed the remote across to her and she switched the TV off. ‘See? That’s how it’s done.’
‘Thanks,’ I said sarcastically.
Of course, none of us thought anything more about so trivial an incident.
Until next day - well I thought about it again, at least.
I was alone in the flat, I had just come back after another shift, and actually I had no idea where Therese and Em were, but after all we didn’t keep tabs on each other all the time. I flopped down on the couch and more from habit than anything, caught up the remote and switched the TV on. Even as I did so, though, I felt a stir of unease, I couldn’t say why. But it made me switch off again almost instantly - or, at least, try to.
And I couldn’t.
‘Damn battery,’ I muttered to myself. I went on stabbing at the button, feeling a vague, and wholly unreasonable sense of alarm as I did so. Once again, I couldn’t get the thing to work. And it just so happened that Therese came crashing in at that moment. ‘Hey, Leonie. How was work?’ She saw my frown. ‘What’s wrong?’ She glanced down at the remote in my hand. ‘Oh, for Christ sake,’ she giggled. ‘You having trouble with that again?’ She leaned over and grabbed it out of my hand, switching the TV off. Just like last night. ‘You know, Leonie, you probably need to start going to the gym more. Work on that upper body strength.’
I made a point of avoiding the TV remote for a while after that. Yes, sounds like an overreaction on my part, and I agree, but I was starting to have a bit of a weird vibe about the damn thing. I’ve never been a big TV watcher anyway.
And, when I did go back to handling the remote, it happened again. I could switch it on, alright, just not off. And it only ever happened with me, never with Em or Therese. So it wasn’t the battery failing, and I didn’t think it was my strength failing either - I mean I could still open the tight-shut pickle jars and stuff like that. Besides, as I said, I could still switch the remote on.
Of course, we made a joke out of it, that the remote was becoming sentient and had taken an aversion to me. Actually that seemed a good an explanation as any. And, after all, it wasn’t a big deal really.
And now onto tonight.
I’m alone in the flat. Em and Therese are out somewhere painting the town red, and I could’ve gone along too, but I’ve been feeling tired all day. I don’t feel quite as sociable lately as I used to, actually. Maybe just work and study getting on top of me. Simplest explanation, right?
Anyway, I just chill for awhile, checking phone messages and all that crap. Then I slide down on the couch, and, unthinkingly, catch up the TV remote, and switch on. I flick through the channels, check Netflix and whatnot. Nothing particularly enticing available, as usual. So I make to switch off - and feel that now-familiar stab of unease as I do so. Of course, that power button defies me.
I sigh, theatrically, after all there’s no-one to hear but myself.
‘OK, we’ll do it the hard way,’ I say aloud. ‘Like how people used to do in the old days, of which I’ve heard tell, before remote control sets ever existed.’ Come to think of it, what had people done before the invention of TV? Sit and stare at a blank wall?
I cross over to the TV, press the power button under the screen. I try a few times.
It doesn’t work. Why am I not surprised?
‘Alright, I know you got some kind of beef with me,’ I go on talking aloud, as though to some kind of antagonist. ‘But let’s just see who wins.’ So saying, I stoop to the power socket, switch off and pull the plug out.
The TV stays on.
When Em and Therese return an hour or so later, they find me in a bit of a state, with the TV blaring in the background.
‘Hey, Amanda, what is it?’ Em crosses quickly to me.
WTF? What did she just call me?
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