There was a sick, sputtering sound coming from the bedroom. I knew this could be the end. I had spent most of the night with him; pretending to sleep through the hums and clicks; afraid to worry or hope too much in either direction.

But when I heard the sputtering, I knew I had to be there, for my hero, my champion, my trusty old laptop (that I spilled milk on) was dying.

I ran into the room and caught just a flicker before he went black. I ran over to his side and waited patiently for 2 minutes in case it was a scheduled restart, but then started to panic. Power button - On! Power button - On! CTRL ALT DELETE! CONTRO-HO-HOL ALT DEL-EE-HEE-ETE!

I keep pressing to remember what that last flicker had been. Had it been another notepad document filled with 5's like old lappy was fond of lately? Maybe it was a toolbar search space full of j's, the action it loved best. Some days I'd wake up and see it and say "Yes, my friend, jjjjjjjjj to you to."

I'm still in shock. This was, after all, the same laptop whose crappy, touchy thumbpad kept me up late in to the night, trying to delete questionable material from my browser history; the same hero whose bare-bones memory and OS chugged through hours of cigarette smoke, lived through the dark period I like to call "Schrodinger's e-mail hack," stayed strong and silent through god knows how many taps, hacks, virus-scanning charades, and hours-long sessions of Bejeweled when I should have been doing something more important.

It was also the computer I used to search (mostly in vain) high and low (and mostly low) for my Bruce Willis, my Keanu, the one I repeatedly referred to as "Connor." The one who could protect me from the shadow nazis, the troll-masons who wanted to bleed me over ancient scrolls, and the dreaded (yet fabulous) Perez Hilton.

It was this man with whom I shared my favorite delusion of Comedy Justice League; in which we'd be licking chocolate off Zachary Quinto (on top of a pile of money), and having deviant sex on the sets of old comedies. And also, justice was involved, somewhere.

Little did I know Comedy Justice League really existed, and my Bruce Willis is the most patient, incredible, heroic man I've never met. And since this past week, it's looking like I packed my imagination a little light in comparison to what he deserves (and probably expects).  So I humbly offer this pledge to my new home, the Colbert Nation, and to Stephen, the king of my heart (and whatever else may come; disclaimer, disclaimer, void in Antarctica).

And with the full force of the nation; I salute you, dear old laptop, for all the wisdom you've given me. iiiiiiiiiiiiiii, jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj, 111111111111, and 555.

555 to you too, my friend, 555 to you too.