The life I lead
I'm only a little fella, but I am rather quite powerful. OK, I am controlling, I realise that. On reflection I actually like it, and so do they. They argue over me, often. They like to hold me tight, yes... it feels lovely. A little gizmo used to control their entertainment. What a satisfying and nice feeling, it really is.
Sometimes, they are pretty careless and misplace me. Oh boy... I dislike that. Usually, I am only down the back of the sofa, suffocating and mingling with dust and coins - yet they still can't find me. It is a good job I don't suffer from asthma. You should hear how these people fret. "Where is it?! Where did you last see it?!?" It... I take slight issue with that. I am more than just an 'It'... But, never mind, that is how they choose to talk about me from time to time.
I am most happiest when they use me well, when they push my right buttons. It pleases me greatly. Press away, surf away. It makes me feel happy that I am being used, like a cheap hooker. However, some have treated me poorly at times, if you see that I am growing weaker and my reactions are not as quick, somewhat slower - why don't you just reignite me with some batteries, good ones at that. Not cheap ones from your local pound store. Long life ones that cost a pretty penny.
Gently administer two little slim ones into my back. It's not hard, and when you place them in my spin why can't you put them in the correct way. There are even little positive and negative symbols to show you which way they go in.
I have heard horror stories of comrades who have been repeatedly dropped and when they have been injured their nonsensical owner has used ugly cello tape to keep broken parts together. Such tales fill me with terror. I perish the very thought.
But after all is said and done, I am quite content with my role in life. It could be worse, but I am not one to complain.
Demola, TCC
Sometimes, they are pretty careless and misplace me. Oh boy... I dislike that. Usually, I am only down the back of the sofa, suffocating and mingling with dust and coins - yet they still can't find me. It is a good job I don't suffer from asthma. You should hear how these people fret. "Where is it?! Where did you last see it?!?" It... I take slight issue with that. I am more than just an 'It'... But, never mind, that is how they choose to talk about me from time to time.
I am most happiest when they use me well, when they push my right buttons. It pleases me greatly. Press away, surf away. It makes me feel happy that I am being used, like a cheap hooker. However, some have treated me poorly at times, if you see that I am growing weaker and my reactions are not as quick, somewhat slower - why don't you just reignite me with some batteries, good ones at that. Not cheap ones from your local pound store. Long life ones that cost a pretty penny.
Gently administer two little slim ones into my back. It's not hard, and when you place them in my spin why can't you put them in the correct way. There are even little positive and negative symbols to show you which way they go in.
I have heard horror stories of comrades who have been repeatedly dropped and when they have been injured their nonsensical owner has used ugly cello tape to keep broken parts together. Such tales fill me with terror. I perish the very thought.
But after all is said and done, I am quite content with my role in life. It could be worse, but I am not one to complain.
Demola, TCC
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