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One day, my television was yanked out of my hand as I was walking down the wall-crumbling alleyway.  The old cord dangling and skidding against the uneven pavement.  

Then I felt this flickering surge shoot through my very veins.  The shock was a new sensation at first, but then the pain started to ease in.  A few flashes here and there and I was slapped into another dimension, lights out and eyes blinking like I didn't believe it.

I was now looking at myself, in 3rd person.  It was very hard to explain.  It was like I was partitioned by this thin invisible thread separating me from regular reality.  It was stretchy, almost like a thick web.  I was now watching myself interact as if consciously acknowledging that I was having an out-of-body experience.  

I saw the kid running away with my television in his hand, his grimy greedy hands!  I was muted and my feet must have been frozen to the ground, edges encased in frozen foot tracks.  I was powerless, caught in this time-warping vortex, watching my helpless body lurch, glazed over by a shiny coat of nothingness.  

"What had happened?  Had I been paralyzed by fear?  Why must bad things happen to good people?"  I thought.  Then I remembered that I wasn't so good to begin with.  And that the bad things that happen in life are there to teach us valuable lessons.  

I instantly realized the moral of the story:  Television infects the mind like a harmless virus.  Like a hidden addiction waiting beneath the surface of visibility.  I blinked a few more times just to check if I was dreaming.  A shrug of the shoulders and I'm back to reality again, standing with the darkness empty-handed.  

I vaguely think about how material possessions are only there to make me unhappy but I soon shake that off too and grab my wallet to double check if the bastard had taken any of my cash...