It never worked on Sundays. Not sure why. It was plugged in and the Hydro folks never disconnected us on Sundays. We could use the can opener Sundays. The microwave too. But the TV. Well, it would just sit there in the corner, gathering dust. We'd twist the knob but dang it all, screen stayed dark.
"Gol!" says Paw, who's about the biggest football fan in these parts. "I bought that TV just to watch my games and now it won't work."
"You can go down to Duncan's Bar," I suggested. "He's got all the games on the big TV."
Paw glares at me. "He'll also charge me six bucks for a glass of beer. You think I can afford that?"
No, I says, and Paw sloughs off to the barn to lick the cows.
Well I was pretty upset. I don't like to see Paw so unhappy, so I figgered I'd take that TV apart and see what the problem was. Grab me a screwdriver and a hammer and some masking tape and I open up the back of that TV and what do I see inside but a dwarf.
"Hi there," I says. "Who's you?"
"I'm Guido the TV dwarf," he says. "Why are you disturbing me on my day off?"
"My dad likes to watch football," I say.
"Well, Sunday's my day off. I'm not working the TV."
"Well, can't you take another day off instead? Maybe Tuesdays?"
Guido thinks about it a bit. "Well, okay. But you'll have to cut your hand off as a sacrifice."
I wanna see paw happy, so I hack off my left hand with an ax. Blood flies everywhere. Soon, the whole room is all red and stinky, but the TV is on and the Pats are beating the Steelers and Paw comes running in and he's as happy as can be.
"Paw," I scream, weak from loss of blood. "Can you take me to the hospital?"
"Wait for halftime," he says, and grabs himself a beer.