He owned no computer, nor even a primitive word processor. He read books, and magazines, and glorified in the writing of letters which he posted by snail mail. No cable or satellite for him, no sir! And no DVD player, of course. And he had a huge TV antenna on the roof. It was a color TV, true, but it probably dated from the 1960s, well before I was even born! It stood on short legs, like a bureau, and had a wooden cabinet. And he owned strange vinyl objects he called "LPs" and "45s."
No, he owned an old-fashioned turntable, a "record player," he called it. He didn't own a CD player, or even a cassette player. He eschewed the most modern technological conveniences. He was a lover of gardening, and of all things related to the past. Than it had any right to be! That sound drove me. It was that annoying beep the watch made, every morning at seven o'clock! It was so much louder than it had to be. In fact, it wasn't even the watch itself, admittedly. His old Timex ® digital wristwatch, twenty years old or more. There wasn't a single thing about him that was unlikable. I stayed with him at his boarding house even as all the other lodgers had left, one by one. I mean, I loved that old man! He was like a father, or perhaps a grandfather, or maybe a step-uncle. Insane? Me? Is that what they're saying? That I'm crazy, mad, wacky, zany, pixilated, Looney Tunes, unhinged, demented, full-goose-bozo, cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, and otherwise missing a few flights of stairs to the attic? However, my story can still be appreciated on its own, if you insist. If not, I highly recommend that you read it, perhaps even before you read my own little parody. I'm assuming you're familiar with Edgar Allan Poe's The Tell-Tale Heart.
0 kommentar(er)
