A moment of silence, if you please.

Ladies. Gentlemen. Protect your children from what you are about to read.

Tonight, this very night, a trusted companion of many months perished.

On the way home from an appointment, I pulled my MP3 player from my pocket, and it slipped from my hands. Now, I'm not one to leap to any defense available, but I would like to point out for the record that reality has often interfered with my plans, and it wasted no time taking advantage of another opportunity to do the same, here. Before you could say, "Sweet Newton's first observation!" reality kicked in and enforced the law of gravity on me.

Come now, ladies, gentlemen. What are the penalties for violating a law of physics? Cartoons and anime have been doing it for ages, and no one yells at them for it. But the second I even have the potential to break a law of physics? Enforcement.

There is no hesitation.

My beloved MP3 player, shiny silver surface, polished plastic chrome, and hand-burned CD-of MP3s tumbled to the cold, unforgiving asphalt right then and there.

I gasped in horror and dove to retrieve it, hoping somehow that by throwing myself on its ruined remains, I could transfer some critical essence of my own spirit into it, to give something of me to death, so that it might live.

Alas, that bitch, reality stood in my way again, and mocked me. The player was broken. The lid would no longer latch properly, despite my efforts to stem the seal and keep its vitals contained within. And then, there, to my eyes, revealed by the light of the moon, I saw it.

The disc.

The precious essence of my player, lying there on the ground, inert.

And scratched.

Life has not known as much sorrow and rage as I in that moment, drunken on the intoxicating tonic of hatred and remorse, but that coldly logical spark in the back of my mind insisted that there was a way, there was a way, nature be damned. I searched, a long task involving many precious minutes -- minutes while the player grew cold and stiff in my pocket, to find the missing pieces of the latch. Something was loose inside; but no matter. I knew how to solve this.

A battery was missing.

Inconsequential. A suitable replacement could be found elsewhere. Some suitable ... er ... donor ... in its prime would make my dream a reality.

I returned home, and pretended nonchalance. Nothing was amiss. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

The moment my flatmate's attention was drawn elsewhere, I fled to my study, frantically wrenching the player and all sundry pieces from my coat to fling them to the desk. Tools. Tools. I needed tools to go about my grisly business. I paused only long enough to lock the door, secure in the knowledge that no one could disturb my experiments now.

And then ... as gritty and repulsive as the task was ... I made the first incision.

A simple cut, through the friendly, once lovely and flawless label on the bottom, to reveal the first of the screws.

Hmm. No screws there.

Well, time could heal all wounds, and it would forgive me, once I defied nature itself!

Proceeding onward, I wrenched open the un-latchable lid, not turning my head aside for a moment as I beheld what should be hidden from man for all time. I confess. I may have looked away for a moment.

Nonetheless, I turned back, and began the fiendish task of unscrewing all four sealing bolts.

A grisly, demented process it was, but what man of medicine -- NO! -- science was I to refuse work when the tools were already there? Had I not a magnetic-grip screwdriver with interchangeable heads, ranging from six sizes of Philips and flathead? Fourteen sizes of hex bolts? Even a breathtaking ... eight ... star hexes?

Pity I only got a chance to use the one Philips, really.

But in short order my work was done, and I, like a boy, breath quickened with anticipation as he opened his presents on Christmas day, prepared to lift off the inner cover and behold the very workings of the machine itself! Yes! But ... what was this? Defied! Nature stands in my way once more, for evolution has seen fit to provide this player with not only screws to mount it, but plastic prongs that hook in?

Fiendish.

But I had no qualms at this point. No hesitation. I had already gone this far into the process, up to my elbows in parts and removed screws (an awesome four, all told), and quickly exchanged the Philips head for a flathead.

I paused only a moment -- a moment, I assure you -- to study what would become my most beautiful creation. Licking my lips with nervous anticipation, I wrenched, prepared to lever the thing open and lay about the grisly innards!

My anticipation was not rewarded for some time.

Regardless, I persevered, and in an explosion of minute plastic springs, the inner workings were revealed.

Mankind was never meant to play with such beauty, nor even behold it. But I was not balked! Nay! Neither reality nor nature could stay my course, now!

With frenzied motions, I began to put the plastic pieces back in place, one at a time, delighting in the way I realized they worked, they fit together within the system, that they ... dare I say it? I dare! The way they gave life to my MP3 player!

Cackling with fiendish glee, I reassembled the entire thing in total, rendering my newmade patchwork golem complete. Lacking only ... the power of electricity.

Unable to find a decent lightning storm, I plundered spare batteries, and tried the player again.

But wait. The disc. The disc is missing.

No matter -- my hands cannot be more sullied at this point. I delved into the trashcan where I had dropped the disc previously, and wiped it briefly with a soft dry cotton cloth from the center outwards, avoiding any circular motions. Good enough.

I put it in.

Then, I pressed the 'play' button.

And what happened next, I must tell you....

Ladies. Gentlemen. You may wish to be seated.

For you see.... My creation....

LIVES.

Also, I flubbed an interview badly.

Bummer me.

G'night!