Basic Cable

Last night, I was watching reruns of American Gladiators when my basic cable went dead. I tried switching the channels. I turned the cable box off and on. I even tightened the coaxial cable on the wall outlet. Nothing.

Then, all of a sudden, the screen came to life with psychedelic images of cartoon bear heads. "God damn it!" I exclaimed, rushing to the door.

When I got the basement, I found Thom Yorke in overalls and a wifebeater sitting next to the cable box. The main line had been cut out of the wall and was running into a DVD player in Thom's backpack.

"Thom, what in the world are you doing?"

"Buuuuuzes like a raaaaadio."

"Thom, you've got to put the cable back on."

"Over my deeeeeeeaaaad body."

"The super will kill me if he finds you about this."

"Tyiiiiing down our aaaaaarms."

I couldn't take it anymore. In a moment of complete rage, I grabbed Thom by the shoulders and began to shake him. "Look asshole! If the super finds out that you've rewired the building's cable to play your Radiohead.tv, he's going to evict me!"

In a moment of clarity, I let go of him. He looked surprised and hurt. I felt very ashamed.

"Look," I said, quietly, "I just need you to stop."

"For a miiiinute there, I loooost myself."

"Yeah, I did buddy. I apologize about that."

Thom unhooked the cable line from his bag.

"Soooomething big is goooooonna happen?"

"No Thom," I replied. "I'll call the super. He'll come fix the line."

We went upstairs together. The television screen was filled with static. I picked up the phone to call the super.

"Hey Thom," I said, still feeling guilty. "When I'm done with this call, do you want to play some Parcheesi?"

Thom nodded and began to set up the board.