A Comedy
Timothy Lewis - The Misdone
Mark Mewhinney - The Dooer
Tim is at his estranged grandmother's funeral this weekend. Being a fellow who likes to occupy his private hurtling through time and space keeping his hands busy, and encouraged by a respect for the private awkwardness of family affairs, he seeks to occupy his time with a call to his friend Mark.
Mark as at home on a couch his roommates had the fortune of finding on a street corner. It has never been steam cleaned. Being a fellow who likes to occupy his hurtling by burying his head in bad fiction, he's watching television. His cellphone rings. He picks it up, sees that the call is from Tim, and lets the call go to voicemail. Then he texts Tim.
Mark: Who is it?
The phone begins ringing again. It's Tim calling. Mark pushes 'Reject' and texts again.
Mark: I said who is it?
A few moments later Tim texts back.
Tim: Mark answer your phone.
Mark: I don't answer calls from strangers.
Tim: Mark don't be an asshole you know who it is. I'm bored talk to me.
Mark: No. I'm watching teevee.
Tim calls again. Mark immediately rejects the call.
Mark: Tim, stop calling my phone. I might get an important call.
Tim: God damn it Mark just answer the phone you know I hate texting.
Mark: I don't want to. I'm watching my stories.
Tim stops texting. After a few minutes there's a commercial and Mark becomes bored.
Mark: Tim?
Minutes later.
Mark: Tim, are you there, I'm lonely.
Tim: Then call me you asshole.
Mark: No.
Tim: God damn it Mark stop texting me it costs money!
Mark: You don't have unlimited texting?
Tim: No!
Mark: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Mark: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Mark: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Mark: HAHAHAHAHA!
Mark: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Tim: You're being a dick.
Mark: No.
Mark: Tim.
Mark: You can turn off your phone.
Mark: Any time you want.
Tim: THAT WON'T STOP ME FROM GETTING TEXTS ASSHOLE!!1
Mark: Tim.
Mark: TIM.
Tim: WHAT??
Mark: It's stupid that you don't have free texting. Why are you such an idiot?
Mark continues texting but to no avail. He eventually becomes bored and, respecting the traditions of his people, spent the rest of his night drinking vodka from the classiest of plastic bottles and sending his ex-girlfriends poetry. Crowning lines included comparing the breasts of one to a sack of rotten oranges, and comparing the lovemaking skills of a second to a third.
The next day Tim returns home from his grandmother's funeral. Mark is again on the couch. This time his pajamas are blue. He is eating pistachios.
"What the fuck Mark?"
"What?"
"You sent me like twenty fucking text messages you fucker!"
"Tim, you exaggerate everything. I sent you twenty-seven."
"That's even MORE!"
"Whatever. I deleted them. That means they don't count."
"CELL PHONES DON'T WORK THAT WAY MARK!"
"Fine."
Mark pushes three dollars across the table.
"I'd like my change please."