I am a tv remote. Everyday, I am clicked on and off. When a family with kids buy me, I feel really happy. However, all that happiness drains away when I see how the children handle their stuff. They kick, punch, twist, spit, and rip anything that can get into their hands.
     Then, there are the fights. The boy wants to watch sports games, while the girl wants watch Barbie. Both start pulling me, and I hear my bones already cracking. Next are the hands. The hands are dirty, caked with mud, dirt under fingernails, and chili sauce from last nights dinner. The hands come and touch me.
     After all I have been through, they deide to throw me away. They think a battered-up and dirty remote is not useful to them. After that, they go buy a new one. I pity the next remote that has to suffer their torture.
     Next morning, I find myself being in the hands of my owner. He brings me to a shop and hands me to the shopkeeper.
     "Can you fix this?" he says.
     "Of course I can!" the shopkeeper says. In three minutes, he hands me back to my owner. Again, I am carried away. I stop breathing. Everything is clean; not one speck.
     This time I felt relief rush all over me. I somehow felt that everything would be all right. There was no more brawls. I was able to search through channels with ease. No more trouble any more. Everything was tranquil. This was just the way I wanted. Everyday, I went back into my world and shared my job and the adventures I went through