I’m about to tell a little-known common story. I’m compelled to tell it, because otherwise something else will bore you instead. And I can’t have that.
This tale starts harmlessly enough —
It was a dark and stormy night, even though that is considered the worst opening ever written. Seriously, it’s true. A poll was taken a few years ago that asked editors and English professors to rank opening lines in novels. “It was a dark and stormy night” ranked dead last.
Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night. Rain fell in waves outside. Rain is water that falls from the sky when it rains. It makes me feel wet, like a cat in a cardboard box that is taped shut and left in the basement while its owners are away on a weekend holiday not caring that the cat is claustrophobic and can hardly breathe for the sheer terror of also being caught inside a run-on sentence.
Well, maybe not like that, but I felt wet even though they keep rain outside. I had showered and dressed without drying, which has nothing do with this story.
So, it was a dark and stormy night and reality shows were on TV, which is another way of saying nothing good was on. I glanced furtively out the window while clicking through channels for something more entertaining, such as an infomercial or something.
And then the unthinkable happened. Right when I was at my weakest, when it was a dark and stormy night and the best show on TV was the static between channels, my remote control quit working. A remote control is a device that allows you to manipulate electronic gadgetry from the comfort of your Doritos-infested La-Z-Boy. And it was deader than a doornail, whatever that is.
So there I was with no entertainment on a dark and stormy night, which by now I’ve run completely into the ground. I did what everybody does when their remote control fails; I tried to fix it by pushing the buttons harder. Shockingly this had no effect other than the power going out. To this day I don’t believe this was a coincidence. Why? Because (say it with me) it was a dark and stormy night.
But power returned in just a few short hours. I thought this would get the remote control working, but it didn’t. Now, you have to understand that I’m as good at fixing things as worms are at freestyle swimming. To illustrate this, take a garden variety earthworm and throw it into a pond or, barring that, in your neighbor’s tea. It will just do a butterfly stroke.
My point is, I can’t fix things. It took a lot of bravery on my part to examine the remote control. Looking over its plastic-ness and overall dark and stormy night-ness, a sudden thought struck me on the chin. So I rejected that thought and chose another one. Which was; what if, perchance, the batteries had gotten bad? It was a definite possibility. In fact, changing the batteries was just crazy enough to work.
Saying prayers to all the deities I could think of, including Miss October, I gingerly removed the back cover, removed the old batteries, and put new ones in.
Would this work? Or would my arch-nemesis, Dark and Stormy Night, thwart me again? Shaking with trepidation I pointed the remote control and pushed the power button. My TV didn’t respond. I had the remote pointed backwards at me and, since I’m not wired properly to be remote controlled, it was no surprise. On the second try my TV sparked to life and, to my joy, was tuned to a Looney Tunes marathon instead of more reality TV. Thank you Miss October!
There is a moral to this story. A moral is a life principle, often buried deep within a tale, which at this time eludes me. If someone could tell me what the moral is, I’ll be very appreciative.