I.A.N.
This box lies alone in the toy section of the Service Merchandise. The store is oddly lit as sun streams through the side windows into dusty shelves picked bare by shoppers looking for a deal. No reason to spend money on overhead fluorescents when you’re going out of business.
Your parents are looking for a new TV because the old black and white one is broken. You broke it on purpose. You wanted a color TV.
All the TVs are sold out, even the floor models.
They’ll never find out what you did to the TV. You, yourself, don’t even know, nor are you sure you did anything at all. You just wanted a color TV.
Now you want a toy. They pick this for you. It finds invisible aliens by beeping incessantly. You take it into the basement and aim it at dark corners, into the crawlspace, under the stairs. You find them. They follow you to bed and haunt your dreams.
You get a color TV a week later. You realize KITT’s lights are actually red.
