A/N- And now for another installment of Tales from the Parts Shop. This one's kind of based off a true story.

2- Cracking Up (The TV)

Velma shuffled back into her place.

Igor looked around the room. "Anyone else want to share a tale?"

A television with a cracked screen stepped to the front of the crowd. "Hi, I'm Artie, and I'm a worthless piece of junk."

"Hello, Artie." A few voices from the crowd replied.

Artie sat on a table. His master and a few of his friends sat on the couch facing him. It was one of their favorite days: game day...

"What team did they support?" Someone shouted from the back.

Artie narrowed his eye. "A college team..."

"What college team?" the shouter, Cornelia (a popcorn machine) said.

Artie groaned. "The Light City Bulbs."

"Your master has good taste," Cornelia replied, instantly less agitated.

"You have to forgive Cornelia, she's kind of a tomboy," the fan standing beside her said.

"Darn right I am!"

Artie's master got up from his chair. Commercial break. The other humans wandered to the kitchen to get some more snacks. Artie looked around the room.

The living room lamp wiggled free of her electrical socket. "Busy day, ain't it Artie?" she drawled.

Artie shook. "Yep." Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of his master's friends pull a bag out of the freezer.

A familiar ding filled the living room. "D'ya think Mike can handle it?"

Artie paused to think. Mike... Mike... the microwave.

"Oh, he'll manage," Artie replied

"So, where exactly were you before this all happened?" Sharpe asked.

Artie scratched his head (or did the TV equivalent of it). "Dorm room somewhere. I can't remember." He paused. "But my troubles began when one of the guys decided to crash on the couch."

Hours after the final touchdown, Artie sat in silence. The guys had, predictably, made a total mess. Vernon (the vacuum cleaner) would have a difficult time getting the cheese and sauce stains out of the rug. And which unlucky appliance would have to do the dishes? Lola hoped it wasn't her. Artie just stared at the sleeping figure on the couch. Suddenly he got up. Probably for a drink of water or a trip to the bathroom.

This couldn't be right. His eyes weren't open.

Sleepwalking.

Artie trembled, terrified. The sleepwalker inched closer.

"No, no," Artie murmured out. The sleepwalker bumped the coffee table, sending it straight into Artie's face.

"So that's how you got cracked up," Wattson said.

Artie paused. "Now for the aftermath."

Master woke up. "Uh, dude, what happened?"

"I dunno, I was sleepwalking and...

"Sleepwalking? Dude, you broke my TV! Dad's gonna kill me."

Artie just sat there. A few hours passed and Master returned. He unplugged Artie from the wall socket and carried him out of the dorm room.

"I get paid this Friday," the other guy said. "I'll pay you back." Artie found himself in the bed of a white pick-up truck.

Master pulled out of the parking lot, headed for the highway.

Artie bounced around the truck bed. He struggled to look over the edge. Where could his master be taking him?

The truck skidded to a halt near a wooden bridge. Master got out of the truck and picked Artie up. He carried the broken TV to the bridge.

Artie glanced at the river. His master suddenly pushed him over the edge. Artie fell off the bridge into the water.

The river currents pushed him for what seemed like a few miles downstream.

Artie then felt hands drag him out of the river.

Elmo St. Peters examined the TV. "Oh, what luck. I knew something would just float towards me." He threw the TV in the bed of his truck and drove off.

"And next thing I know I was..."

Artie now sat on the work table, now with significantly less river muck inside him. The doorbell rang.

"Got any wires?" a voice asked.

"Of course!" Elmo chuckled. He grabbed a set of pliers.

Wires. Wires. The only undamaged part of him. The plastic covering held up against the river. Artie felt the pliers going into his "mouth".

He tried not to squirm. The pliers cut through the covering and into the metal below. He cringed, just as the wires were yanked out of him.

Elmo exited the workroom.

"Urgh," Artie groaned. "I don't feel so good." Cables wrapped around him and hoisted him onto a shelf.

"There, there," a creepy, German-accented voice said. "You'll feel better after a nice rest."

Why I named them what I did...

Artie- It was either this or Trevor.

Cornelia- It sounds like popcorn.