The Heavyweight Remote

I locked eyes with an absolute behemoth resting on the rug: the black TV remote. It looked easily twice my length, lying flat like an undefeated champion. Naturally, I charged right in. I planted both boots into the carpet fibers, bent my knees, and wedged my shoulder right under the rubber volume rocker. With a fierce grunt, I hoisted with everything I had. The plastic creaked, the whole block tilted, and BAM—it flipped onto its side! My arms were trembling with pure adrenaline. Round one goes to me!