Couch Potato Chip

It was a chilly morning and the sun lit up everything it touched. The birds were singing and a light breeze was blowing. Flowers bloomed and the bees buzzed. But all this goes unnoticed under the eyes of the man glued in front of the television. His blob of a body sat there motionless, deepening the crater on the couch. His eyes fixed to the screen. You wouldn't think him alive if it weren't for the occasional outbursts of laughter that made him bellow and shake like good old St. Nick.

Time passed quickly on this couch; it was a time portal into the future. Television programming sucked him in and kept him there for hours, days. He was so entranced by the show that he failed to notice the rapping at the door. But soon the men entered anyways, both dressed in dark blue uniforms. The men were stout and buff.

"You haven't paid your bills in over six months," said the older man with the dark moustache.

"And why didn't you answer the door?" added the kid with bored eyes and a mop for hair.

The man said nothing, only moved his from head side to side trying to see the television through the two men.

"Let him alone," said the moustache. "We will start in the kitchen."

A few minutes later the men re-entered the living room pulling the refrigerator out the front door. The food had been emptied and was sitting on the kitchen floor.

"We set the soda pop and leftover pizza in there on the floor," said the oldest man as he pointed.

The kid whispered to the mustache man, "There was nothing much in the cupboards; it looks like all he has to eat is potato chips and junk food. That might explain a few things."

The men continued moving all the furniture out of the house into the big truck. They removed all the dusty pictures from the walls. They left only crumbs for the rats and immense amount of dust mites.

"Okay, nothing left but the TV now," smirked the mop-head.

"I think he just might fall over and die when we take that from him." laughed the man with the mustache.

They suppressed the smiles on their faces as they approached the television from behind. In one swift motion they unplugged that man's world and titled it onto the moving cart.

"Hey, I was watching that."

With that, the repo-men wheeled the television out the door and shut it behind them. The man peered through the window as his glass world was carried away. He sat back, closed his eyes, and shoved another handful of chips into his mouth.