Prime Time

Donald got out his cutting board, and checked the channel 8 listings to see what was on. He watched the entire list scroll through three times before finally deciding on a science fiction show. He then proceeded to start chopping up vegetables. He kept getting distracted by what was going on in the program, and watching that instead of chopping.

At one point, after suddenly realizing for the third time that he had stopped cutting the veggies, he raised the knife while also trying to watch the action, and ended up slicing open his finger. It took another four seconds before he actually noticed the cut, during which time the celery was splattered red. He washed it, and figured it would be fine.

At 5 pm, he changed the channel to watch one of his favourite cartoons, a remake of one he had watched as a kid. They were actually rehashing one of the old stories too; telling it slightly differently, but all the details were the same. He threw the veggies in a pan to fry, and kept watching.

At 5:45, he scraped the burned veggies off the pan and in to a casserole dish, where he added some pasta and a sauce, covering it with breadcrumbs. It took another four minutes to turn the oven on, and another eleven for it to reach the proper heat.

By 6, his dinner was in the oven, and he had switched to the news. At 7, the news finished, and during the commercial break, he pulled his slightly charred dinner out of the oven. He put some on a plate, and settled in for a long evening of his favourite Thursday programs; he deftly worked the remote, switching channels on commercial breaks; he had several programs on at once, and though he was recording two of them with his old clunky VCRs, he still wanted to keep up with them as they aired.

At 1 am, the timer clicked the television off, and his comatose form lay quietly in the chair until sunrise.

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