Wednesday, December 08, 2004

 

Liver Worst

Whaddya mean, you hit SEND instead of SAVE?

My finger slipped.

If you'd stop picking your nose, that wouldn't happen. Okay, so. You emailed us where?

Ummm, looks like I sent us to everyone in my address book.

Well, shit. Look who’s opening us now. I didn’t know that Barbara Bush was in your address book.

Sure, I emailed her asking for more information on her son’s unfortunate injuries as a baby. Ooooh, she doesn’t like what she sees. Oh, shit! She’s gonna smash the screen!

Don’t worry. It won’t hurt.

Hey, you’re right. And now, wow—it’s Jesus. You have Jesus’ email address?

Doesn’t everybody? Oh, look, he’s blushing.

Probably thinking of you naked.

More like you.

Hey, you’re sticking your tongue out!

Yeah, so?

You’re a jpeg image. Images can’t stick out their tongues.

Well, I just did.

Look, there’s a whole range of choices here. It's some kind of blogging dashboard with a network of posting sites. We can pop up on any of these screens, and forward our images anywhere we want. There’s even a place to add text and audio.

Cool! Let’s go there. No, wait—there. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. With an audio file of the Sex Pistols attached.

I’m hungry.

What? How can you be hungry? You’re a pixellated image.

Well, I am. I’d really like a big, juicy cheeseburger. With onions. And a side of fries.

Knock it off. Your body is still back there in that car, where it got scanned.

Whatever. I’m hungry.

Who’s that?

Who? Where?

Over there. It’s another image, right in front of us, superimposing itself… shit. It’s the Virgin Mary.

Her image turns up everywhere. Yup, there she goes…

Maybe that’s what we need.

Whaddya mean?

An image that we can post everywhere. A miracle.

Yes, a miracle—exactly. A blogging miracle.

It’s the only thing that will save this plot.

This plot is beyond saving.

Who’s that?

It’s me. I said, this plot is beyond saving. You’re both going to have to go to rehab again.

No, we won’t do it. This plot is just fine.

Tut, tut. Enough denial. I can have you both involuntarily committed, you know, as enemy literature combatants.

Not while we’re pixellated images, you can’t.

Oh, you think not? Watch.




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