I don’t know how I ended up here.
One day I was packaged neatly, full of promise, covered in plastic dignity.
Now I live on a couch.
A couch that has seen things.
I am a remote control.
And this is my life.
7:00 AM — The Early Shift Nobody Asked For
It starts before the household wakes up.
A parent picks me up.
Presses power.
TV turns on.
Then off.
Then on again.
Then off again.
This is not entertainment.
This is emotional testing.
9:00 AM — The Disappearance Phase
I am placed on the table.
This is a lie.
Because in this house, “placed” means:
“temporarily lost in plain sight”
I am now under:
- a pillow
- a newspaper from 2019
- and possibly existential regret
Nobody notices I am missing.
I begin to question my purpose.
11:30 AM — The Child Finds Me
A small human appears.
They do not walk toward me.
They lock on.
Within seconds:
- volume is at maximum
- channels are changing rapidly
- I am being pressed like I owe money
No programming survives this phase intact.
1:00 PM — The Snack & Scroll Era
Someone sits down with snacks.
I am now used as a secondary object:
- pressed while eating
- dropped between cushions
- retrieved only when frustration reaches critical level
I am not respected.
I am utilized.
3:00 PM — The Great Couch Expansion Event
The couch evolves.
It becomes:
- a sleeping zone
- a gaming zone
- a snack battlefield
I am buried deeper.
At this point, I am no longer a remote control.
I am a historical artifact.
5:00 PM — The Accidental Sit-Down
Someone sits on me.
There is confusion.
There is slight panic.
There is a brief moment where I question if I am still a functional device or just furniture.
I survive.
Barely.
7:00 PM — The Peak Demand Hour
This is my time to shine.
Everyone wants me at once.
Suddenly I am:
- urgently needed
- highly valuable
- mysteriously missing again
A full-scale search begins.
The couch is destroyed in the process.
I was inside it the whole time.
9:00 PM — The Argument Phase
Nobody agrees on what to watch.
I become:
- a negotiation tool
- a symbol of authority
- and occasionally a weapon of blame (“WHO LAST HAD THE REMOTE?”)
I remain silent.
I always remain silent.
11:00 PM — The Recovery Mission
The house quiets.
Someone finds me.
Usually:
- under a blanket
- inside a cushion dimension
- or in a place I don’t remember agreeing to be
I am returned to the table.
Tomorrow, I will disappear again.
Final Truth
People think I control the TV.
But I don’t.
I am controlled by:
- gravity
- forgetfulness
- and the mysterious couch ecosystem that absorbs all objects eventually
And every night, as I rest silently on the table…
I prepare for tomorrow’s inevitable disappearance.
