Saturday, April 12, 2014

For your consideration. An exchange by text between the Ensign and the CMMDR, circa 2014.



CMMDR: u there?

ENSIGN: (baiting him, acerbic) Oh, did you find time between your tailor and barber to reach out to an old friend?

CMMDR: I was, I’m sorry, yes, I was busy….

ENSIGN: (admonishing) ‘I was busy’ – there you go, pulled right from the old ‘grab bag of phrases.’

CMMDR: (attempting some reconciliation, though not sure exactly why reconciliation always had to be a factor) How’s the book on tape?

ENSIGN: (as to a child) They stopped calling them ‘books on tape’ in the last century.

CMMDR: Sorry.

ENSIGN: (miffed) Yeah. And it’s done.

CMMDR: What?

ENSIGN: (Exploding) THE ‘BOOK ON TAPE’!!!! WORK WITH ME!!!!!

CMMDR: Sorry.

ENSIGN: (scathingly) YOU’RE SORRY?

CMMDR: (upbeat) So, on to the indie?

ENSIGN: ( with a level of self-laceration so intense the CMMDR can actually smell ozone) Yeah, on to the indie. Nice shot Bill.

CMMDR: (tentatively, fearfully) Well, I’ve got to get go-

ENSIGN: (unleashing thinly disguised fury) Oh, OK, sorry, SORRY, didn't mean to bother you-

CMMDR: No, it’s fine, I just have to get the mail-

ENSIGN: (a discharge of pure venom) STOP! STOP! STOP USING A POSTAL BOX!! JUST STOP IT!

CMMDR: (unsure, terrified) Ummm. OK. I’ve got to go.

ENSIGN: (weeping) This is it, this is my life. I cannot believe it. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?


1 comment:

Ensign said...

Laughing. Howling.