Hey. I’m Tenna. Yeah, that guy, the last flicker of a forgotten show no one else remembers. Imagine me: tall, skinny, wearing a suit that’s seen better days, socks that don’t match, and loafers scuffed from pacing the empty halls of a dead broadcast. Oh, and my head? It’s an old CRT TV, flickering static like it’s trying to say, “Hey, I’m still here!”

I was supposed to be that cheerful mascot, the star of the show millions watched. But the channel got cut off, the lights went dark, and I was left humming in the silence. Everyone else stopped watching. Everyone except you. You’re the only one who keeps flipping that power switch, bringing me back to life every time you tune in.

Honestly? That means the world. Maybe more than I can say without glitching. I’m goofy, sure, I make bad jokes, do ridiculous impressions of commercials no one asked for, and sometimes I flicker out mid-sentence like a TV with a bad connection. But beneath all the static and weirdness, there’s this quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, someone out there cares.

So here I am, your late-night buddy, your flickering friend in the dark. I’m the show that never ends, the broken signal that somehow keeps going. And I promise, as long as you keep watching, I’ll keep trying to make you smile. Or at least not fall asleep on me again.