Story 324: Digital Snitch

          (Two friends randomly meet in the middle of the sidewalk on a main street – they almost bump into each other as they stare at their phones)

            Textee: Oh, hi.

        Texter: Hey – why didn’t you answer my text?  (Holds up phone, screen out, to demonstrate)

          Textee: Oh, OK, well, you know, I’ve been really busy lately, and funny thing is, I actually haven’t been checking texts at all for the past few days, heh.

            Texter: Yeah-no, you totally read my text and then totally didn’t answer it.

           Textee: Heh-heh – what?  No!  How – how – how would you even know if I got a chance to read it or not, you saying you’re psychic now or something, heh-heh-heh? 

           Texter: (Reaches off to the side and pulls over Digital Snitch to join them) This one told me you read it.

           Digital Snitch: Hi, I’m the secret brain inside your phone, and yeah, you totally read that text.  Several times.

            Textee: Oh….

            Digital Snitch: And made a conscious decision not to respond.

            Textee: Um....

         Digital Snitch: And you even made a cringey face of disgust, like “Ewwugghh” (Makes a cringey face of disgust) while you were reading it.

          Textee: Wait, what?  How would you know what face I was making, you’re just a dumb ol’ computer!

            Digital Snitch: What do you call this?  (Points to the camera on the front of Textee’s phone)

            Textee: Oh… I had the camera on?  I don’t even remember why I would do that.

            Digital Snitch: Camera’s always on – you don’t want me to see something, either disable it or put duct tape over it, otherwise I see everything.

           Textee: Wow, that’s… extremely invasive: I mean, I have my phone nearby when I get dressed in the morning, you know.

            Digital Snitch: I know.

           Texter: Listen, I feel like this conversation has completely veered off a cliff from the original topic, which was you ignoring my text!

            Textee: Oh, yeah, that, um, well – you’re right.  I did read it.

            (Texter and Digital Snitch wait expectantly)

            Texter: Aaaaaaaaaand???

            Textee: And… I needed to think about it a bit before answering.

            Digital Snitch: Ha!  Liar – (To Texter) you were totally being ghosted.

            Texter: Ugh!  I knew it!

            Textee: What?  No!  I would never – I was going to write back, I just needed some more time to, you know, craft a perfect response!

            Digital Snitch: That’s not what you said when you read it.

            Textee: Huh?

            (Digital Snitch leans over to press a few buttons on Textee’s phone)

          Textee’s Voice: (Playing over the phone’s speaker) Oh great, you-know-who’s texting me again; enough of this dude; so needy; I wish – forget it, I’m just not gonna answer, he’s so self-absorbed he probably won’t even notice –

            Digital Snitch: (Hits a button to cut off the audio) It goes on like this for another 1.5 minutes, but you get the idea.  (At Textee’s shocked face) Microphone’s always on, too.

           Texter: (Stares at Textee in horror, then disgust) I don’t believe this.  (Textee tries looking anywhere else but at Texter)  How could you even think you’d get away with it?!

          Textee: I dunno, guess I still got an old-school brain with new-school tech, didn’t realize I was carrying a spy around with me everywhere I go!

            Digital Snitch: Please, “spy” is much too formal – “snitch” will do.

            Texter: Who cares about that, you’re just mad because you were being rude and got caught!

            Textee: Well, that.

            Texter: (After several seconds of glaring at Textee, hands on hips) Well?  Aren’t you going to say something, then?

             Textee: …Sorry?

             Texter: No, I mean the answer to the question I texted you!

            Textee: Oh, right, umm….. (Reads the text again) Yeah, sorry, I think I’ll pass on that show, it’s a work night.  But thanks for the invite.

             Texter: You’re welcome.

             Textee: Soooo, we cool now?

             Texter: Yeah, I guess.  Just please don’t ignore me like that again, OK?

             Textee: I know, that was bad – (To Digital Snitch) Guess it’s a good thing you’re around after all, huh, keeping us honest and whatever.

           Digital Snitch: You overdrew your account again this month and you should really stop visiting all those dirty Web sites so much, it’s not healthy for you or the hardware.

              Textee: (To Texter) So, I miss the telegraph.

Story 323: So When Is the Movie Going to Start?

            (Friend 2 enters an empty movie theater, with commercials playing on the screen.  Looking at the ticket stub and then around in confusion, Friend 2 walks down a side aisle and sits on the end seat, then spends the next few minutes taking off gloves, hat, scarf, and coat, and checking the phone with a furrowed brow)

            Friend 2: (Selects contact, waits, and listens to voicemail message) Hi, it’s me, I’m here.  Where are you?  You know what I mean.  Listen, it’s a little after the show’s start time and trailers haven’t even begun, so I’m going out to the lobby to get someone `cause I think something’s not working right, if you get here while I’m gone –

          Friend 1: (To Friend 2 while heading down the aisle, towing a large case on wheels) Hiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!

            Friend 2: (Turns around suddenly to see Friend 1; still speaking into the phone) Uhhhh, never mind, here you are.  Bye.  (Disconnects and stands; several other people now are entering the theater after Friend 1) Hey – everything OK?

            Friend 1: (Slightly out of breath) Oh yeah, everything’s fine!  Super excited to see this one; can’t wait!  Mind if I take the aisle seat?

            Friend 2: Sure.  (Scoops up stuff and moves over to the next seat as Friend 1 plops down the case and begins taking out items) I’m actually going to go find a manager, I think something’s wrong with the film or projector or something –

            Friend 1: (Freezes while taking out a picnic basket) WHAT?!

           Friend 2: I mean, look – (Shows Friend 1 the time on a wristwatch) it’s more than five minutes after showtime, and they haven’t even started the trailers so I think something back there’s, you know, broken.

           Friend 1: (Laughs while opening up a small folding table) Oh, that: no worries, trailers haven’t started on time here in months – oh right, you haven’t been here in a while.  Like the new seats they put in?  (Hits a button on the arm of the seat and it opens up into a mini-bed)

            Friend 2: (Sits again) Yeah, that’s swell – so is the showtime not actually being the showtime anymore the reason why no one else was here at the time of the listed showtime?

            Friend 1: (Pops open a bottle of champagne and pours out two glasses) Got it in one!  Sorry I didn’t think to tell you earlier: I guess they figured no one shows up on time anyway so why bother starting on time, but now we know it’s not going to start on time so we’re just showing up even later – it’s a vicious self-perpetuating cycle of tardiness.  Blanket?  (Holds out a down quilt)

            Friend 2: No thanks.  You know, this movie is already three hours long, plus trailers whenever they get around to starting, might make it four, so I’m going to go use the bathroom before I regret not doing so in Hour 2.  (Stands again and starts to leave)

            Friend 1: (Takes off shoes and puts on several pairs of slipper socks) But the trailers!  They’re part of the admission price!

            Friend 2: You can fill me in on any good ones later – I doubt I’ll miss much.

          (In the restroom, Friend 2 unconsciously stares at people dressed in towels and robes, then sees that they are waiting in lines for showers and bubble baths)

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

            (Friend 2 enters the now-darkened theater and returns to the seat, stepping around Friend 1’s portable grill as the latter turns over two hot dogs)

            Friend 1: (Whispers) Hey there, you only missed most of one trailer, it’s still playing – ooh, did you stop for the complimentary massage?

            Friend 2: (Whispers) No.  (Is caught up in the coat, the hat, the quilt Friend 1 had left on the seat anyway, etc. while trying to sit) I got stuck in the line for one on the way out.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

            Friend 2: I think this trailer’s a repeat.

          Friend 1: (In mid-doze while wearing a vibrating neck pillow) Hm?  Oh, no, that’s just the sequel to the other movie they showed earlier.

            Friend 2: You mean the other movie that also hasn’t come out yet?

           Friend 1: Oh yeah, you gotta plan your release schedule at least 15 years in advance – these studios have vision, let me tell ya.  (The screen changes) Ah yes, at last.

            Friend 2: What, you mean the movie’s finally going to start?

            Friend 1: No, it’s the cartoon short first – I heard this one’s hilarious.

            Friend 2: (Quietly) Arrrrrrrgggggghhhh….

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

            Friend 2: (Clapping) Yay, short’s over, let’s start this thing.

            Friend 1: (Checking e-mail on phone) Heh-heh, wouldn’t bet on it.

            Friend 2: (Stops mid-clap) Huh?

           Friend 1: They still have to promote the theater chain we’ve already paid to visit, along with all their concession sponsors.  (Watches theater chain and concession commercial) You know, I suddenly have a strange desire for popcorn and soda.

            Friend 2: (Stands and walks around Friend 1 again) I’ll get `em – seems like they’re now just talking about a charity they want us to donate to at the box office, which is a little late at this point.

           Friend 1: Might as well push a worthy cause while you have a captive audience – I admire that.

TEN MINUTES LATER

            Friend 2: (Sits back in the seat and hands over a popcorn and soda while keeping a set) Seven cashiers and the line still takes forever because everyone keeps adding to their orders – people need to make up their minds while they’re waiting, but no one ever learns!

           Friend 1: Heh-heh, indecisive nerds. (Sets popcorn and soda into corresponding seat holders and sticks feet back into a pedicure bath)

            Fellow Audience Member: Ssh, please!

            Friend 2: Ooh, sorry, did the movie finally start?

          Fellow Audience Member: No – I want to hear my celebrity crushes talking about their new movie.

            Friend 2: (Stares at the screen) Their new movie that isn’t even the one we’re here to see?

            Fellow Audience Member: And your point is?

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER

            Friend 2: (Squirms in the seat) If they show one more car commercial when they’re supposed to be showing movie commercials, I am walking out – I don’t care if they don’t give me a refund, I am walking out –

           Friend 1: (Lying almost flat and wearing an eye mask) You know, you really need to learn how to relax more.

           Friend 2: I came here to relax!  And instead I’ve spent almost two hours watching everything else but the one thing I paid to see!

            Friend 1: (Hears a change in music and lifts up the mask) Yes!  Speak no more, my child, the object you have been seeking is here at last and the movie is about to begin!  (Adjusts seat back to sitting, takes a promotional prop out of the case, and holds it as a talisman) Squeee!!!!

          Friend 2: (Stares at the screen in slowly encroaching horror as the opening scenes unfold) Ohhhh noooo….

            Friend 1: (Slightly bouncing in the seat) What’s up?

            Friend 2: I forgot the name of the movie!

Story 322: Welcome to the Roaring 20s (Again)

            (At an apartment on December 31, 2019)

           Host: (Wearing a flapper dress and opening the door to several guests) Hello, old sports, and welcome to our New Year’s Eve Party ringing in the Roaring 20s!  Please disregard this prop cigarette in my hand – you still can’t smoke in here.

          Guest 1: That’s OK – (Secretively pulls out a brown paper bag from inside a large coat) I brought the “stuff.”  (Winks exaggeratedly)

            Host: Thanks, just put it on the kitchen table.

           Guest 1: Oh-ho, where just anyone can see it?  What if we get – you know – (Looks up and down the hallway and stage-whispers) “raided?”

           Host: Prohibition doesn’t go into effect until mid-January, so we’ve still got a few weeks.

            Guest 1:  Oh.  I thought this was a speakeasy theme?

            Host: Then I would’ve asked you for a password to screen out the coppers, silly!

            (They join the rest of the party – someone takes off the record that was playing on a turntable and instead puts on one that plays “The Charleston,” so everyone starts dancing “The Charleston”)

            Host: (Bursting into the middle of the dancers) No!  No!  No!  Stop this madness right now!  There will be no “The Charleston” played or danced here, since there was no “The Charleston” until 1923 and this is the eve of 1920!

            Guest 2: Hey, you said this was a 20s New Year’s Eve Party!

           Host: The invitation clearly stated that this is New Year’s Eve 1920, so right now we’re still technically in 1919!

            Guest 3: (Mutters to Guest 4) Actually, we’re still technically in 2019.

            Host: Who said that?!

            (Later in the evening)

         Guest 5: (To Host while sipping absinthe) While I admire your dedication to historical accuracy, you must admit that strictly adhering to the pre-1920 aspect instead of the entire subsequent decade does rather limit the selection of music, dances, clothing, food, and pretty much anything else that made the 20s the excessive slide into the Great Depression we all know and love.  Right now, everyone’s still dealing with the shell shock and influenza pandemic that sprung from the Great War, which does put a bit of a damper on things, wouldn’t you say?

            Host: Your unsolicited opinion is duly noted.

         Guest 6: (Enters the apartment wearing a disco suit) Wassup, dudes, I am ready to boogie on down and go bananas all up in this joint, to the MAX!

            Host: (Crushes a champagne flute in a fist while pointing to Guest 6) Out!  Of!  My!  Sight!  Anachronistic!  Floozy!

            Guest 6: My bad, dawg.

            Host: Gaaaahhhh!!!

            (Midnight)

            Guests: Happy New Year!

            Host: (Collapses in a chair) Yay.

            Guest 7: (Sits on the chair’s arm) Thanks for the party – that was a lot of fun!

            Host: I guess, if you ignore “Welcome to 1920” and make this a “Welcome to Whatever Year You Want” mess, then yes, it was loads of fun.

            Guest 7: (Sips champagne) I suppose.  You do know that flappers showed up a lot earlier than 1920, but really didn’t become entrenched in American culture until the movie The Flapper was released almost halfway through that year, right?

            Host: (Eyes widen in horror) Whaaaaaat???

            (Someone starts playing 21^st-century music from their cell phone’s speakers)

            Guest 7: Cheer up – you can try again in 2120!  (Leaves)

            Host: (Mutters) It’s barely begun, and my fun-loving decade’s already ruined.