|via tom brown|
Mr. Chauncy S. Gravename, a local pimp and used condom salesman, hadn't given his phone a break for three days. In between talking to his mother and e-mailing pictures of dogs in suggestive outfits (cheerleaders!) to his brother, Mr. Gravename programmed his phone to sing him erotic lullabies as he drifted off to sleep. The unnamed cell phone, literally tired of having its buttons pushed, finally had enough, and ended up double-sham kicking Gravename in the boozers while he was walking to work.
Police were already on the scene when we arrived. The cell phone was in handcuffs, being pushed in the direction of a parked police car. There wasn't much time, but we did manage to get a quick statement: "I'm a goddamn SMART phone. What's this Chauncy guy doing looking up pictures of antelopes with breast implants? Gross! I mean, all of the world's knowledge is literally at this fuckster's fingertips and what's he do? He looks up Thundercats porn! I don't know where these fine police officers are taking me, but I know one thing: it'll be like I'm on vacation. You can't unsee the things I've seen. And that's a fact."
Is this an isolated incident or the beginning of the long-dreaded cell phone uprising? Stay tuned!