On rainy days, and lonely nights, it's comforting to turn on the TV and flip through numerous channels, over and over, until you have decided what boring talk show grabs your attention the most.  You find yourself glued and suddenly nodding off.  You struggle to stay awake as the talk show hosts crack another lame, late night joke.  before you know it, you've fallen asleep before the TV, and the next time you awake, it's six in the morning on a Saturday.  You once again flip through your channel avvailability, and suddenly remember that collosal, early morning show on some channel others think is weird.  You know the number of that channel by heart, and punch them in as you hold the black, obsessive remote between your thumb and other digits accounted for.  But, at the last second, you realize that youhave skipped a number, and you have found the everlasting oblivion of the UNAVAILABLE CHANNEL.
You're freaking out as the darkness of that channel swallows you, as the blizzard of mixed-up pixels hide all from your view.  You've never seen this channel before, and it's certainly not one to purchase from your multi-million dollar provider that is capable of giving you EVERY channel imaginable.  So, as you gaze into the oblivion of a blank, white-noise void, you seem to turn to stone.  The sound coming from the speakers is either the beating of fat raindrops, the screech of some, unknown, inhuman creature, or nothing at all with a clock ticking in the background.  You strain and struggle to re-enter that number.  You're missing the show, and it's missing you.  Without you, where would be the precise number of 7,467,894 viewers who, on average, view this show nearly every morning.  The more the merrier, they say, so, why not?
The obsessive remote lays flat on you knee, buried deep in your seat, or either stuck in the awkward struggle of your hand.  if only your thumb could just rid yourself of this strange void, then your favorite, six o'clock show would miss one less person.  You feel your hand cramping, and you give a mighty yell as you fling your hand up, remote gripped tightly, and defy the void of the unavailable channel.  you point the the remote directly into the TV's sensors, and grit your teeth, hoping you get it right.  With a shaky hand, you fearlessly punch in the number, and the void disappears for a split second. 
Oh joy!  You have found your beloved talk show that so defies the stiffness of midnight live, and you forget the remote for an entire hour as you rub the your cramped hand and your sore eyes.  After all, it was and eyesore.  you settle back into your seat, and watch your idols, jotting down their every words in your infinite, yet small memory.  Where would you be without those six o'clock heroes of yours to save you from the malicious hold of the unavailable channel?
But, don't forget to purchase ALL the channels before you punch the wrong number again.