Writing Prompts - 5. Prompt #107 ~ Inanimate Object

It’s almost time for him to get home. I love being the one he turns to when he’s had a rough day and just needs to relax. His mood seems to determine exactly what part I will play when he sits down in his chair and turns me on.

I’ve seen him at his best and I’ve seen him at his worst and I’ve even seen him in some of the most intimate moments of his life. It’s amazing what people do when they think nobody is around to see them. If I could actually speak, oh the stories I could tell. Not just about him, but to him.

The front door opens and he walks in and sets his keys on the table. He walks by me and goes into the kitchen and when he returns, the beer in his hand tells me that he’s had a rough day. Which means tonight will probably be a comedy night. He always seems to watch comedy when he’s had a bad day. My only guess is that it’s to help lighten the load and bring some laughter into his day.

See, my owner is a cop. While I have sat here, muted, I’ve heard him on the phone talking to someone about his day; I still didn’t know what being a cop was all about. Sure, there were all those cop shows, but he didn’t watch them very often. When he did, some parts he would just kind of nod, as though some part of the show really depicted what being a cop was like. Other parts, he would get very vocal about how that’s just not how something happened. So I knew some, but definitely not all of what his life outside of home was like.

He sets his beer on a small table by his recliner and walks past me, again, to go to his bedroom. This is another part of his routine. He’ll go get out of his uniform and take a quick shower before coming back to just sit back and relax. That’s when it’s my turn to brighten his day and give him something to escape in.

I know that it won’t be much longer before I am replaced. I am old. He’s had me for quite a long time, and even though he takes good care of me, I wasn’t meant to last forever. I know this, and I’m curious as to what he will replace me with when the time comes, but that’s not really something I like to think about. After having him for an owner, I really don’t think I’d want anyone else.

It’s not long before he comes back into the living room, but he’s not in a pair or sweats or pajama bottoms like I’m used to. His dark hair is slicked back and he’s wearing a pair of jeans so tight that I can’t help but wonder how he can breathe in them. He’s got a t-shirt on that molds to the planes of his chest and shows off the muscles that he’s spent so much time molding to his standards.

Someone knocks on the door and it all makes sense. He’s going out tonight. He opens the door and I can see hear the happiness in his voice as he greets his visitor. When his guest walks in, it’s not someone I’ve ever seen before. It doesn’t really matter; if they stick around I’ll see plenty of them, because they don’t know that I watch everything they do. They’re like my own personal television. I see him look at me and he laughs.

“Damn man, this thing is ancient. Why haven’t you traded it in and gotten a flat screen yet?”

My owner stops in front of me and studies me before reaching out and resting his hand on top of me. Yes, I’m old, but I still work. Unfortunately, I can feel my time here coming to an end, and while I know he will have no choice to replace me, I’m curious as to how he will answer his friend.

“Just because something is old doesn’t mean it’s no good. Why get rid of a perfectly good television just because there’s newer technology out there? This one does me just fine.”