15
When my cell phone blared out “No Sleep Till Brooklyn,” I woke up. Sun sneaked through my bedroom window, meaning that I had only been snoozing for a few hours. I knew who it was straightaway because I have all my friends specially programmed in my phone. When I say all my friends, what I mean is that I have my mom, whose cell phone song is “Mama Said Knock You Out”; I have my dad, whose cell phone song is “King of the Swingers” (but that never rings because Dad can’t use his cell in case the crazy infidels track him down, cart him off to some deep, dark cave in the middle of nowhere, and torture him for the top-notch secret state information he has stored away in his head); and then I have Miss Flynn, whose cell phone song is “Good Vibrations.” But that’s just for emergencies. Even though today was a type of emergency, I didn’t hear “Good Vibrations.”
hi dylan, itz amir here. r u goin 2 skool 2 mor? Amir always started his texts with telling me who they were from even though I’d told him a billion times that “No Sleep Till Brooklyn” meant that I knew it was him. I even played his message tone to him. He was some man, Amir was.
Probs, dont want 2 tho
dont wory about MM
Im not
shez a carpet muncher anyway. lol
so iz her maw. Lol
lol
lllloooollll
r u still goin to disco?
dunno.
Itll be brill . . . cum on
Ill think about it.
we cud go as laurel and hardy
ur the fat one
or cagney and lacy. Amir was always watching the old programs on Netflix.
bags cagney then. Lol
wot about susan boyle and mrs. seed? lol.
thot u wer goin as oor m8 doughnut?
na hez a fat cok gobbler
lol
lol rite bak at u
so r u goin then?
may b
think about it
I will. only got 17p credit left
c u 2mor then
okeydokey
Cell phones are possibly the greatest invention the world has ever seen. My top four inventions are:
1. Cell phones.
2. TV.
3. Soccer.
4. Dialysis machines.
Come to think of it, Michelle Malloy had to have a dialysis machine strapped to her kidneys so she didn’t pee herself all the time. Or was it so her kidneys didn’t go on the blink? Basically I wasn’t 100 percent sure, as I was too scared to ask her about it. She went to the hospital loads for it—well, for that and for her big-leg-wee-leg issue. Maybe that was why she was so grumpy: she could have been suffering dialysis-machine withdrawal. Maybe being a crabby chops is a symptom of this; who knows how these dialysis machines work? I certainly don’t. I wouldn’t mind getting my grubby hands on her cell number; I could send her nice text messages without having to listen to her slagging me off or calling me hurtful names. I’d send her text messages full of ???? so she’d have to return my ???? with answers. Amir did this, and I ended up spending all my credit having text chat with him. He was a blast. I regularly fell asleep chuckling away to myself because of some daft thing he’d written. I lay in bed LMAO. Sometimes it was sooooooo funny that I was LMFAO. (The F is a bad word.)
It must have been really difficult in the olden days when they didn’t have cell phones. What did people do for fun in those days, I wondered. Questions like this often ripped my knitting and regularly kept me awake at night, tossing and turning and groaning, because I couldn’t find answers to them. How come there were no black champion skiers? How come when I was in Torremolinos with Mom and Dad the dogs in the street could understand Spanish much better than I could? Who was it who decided that a table was going to be called a “table” or an ear was going to be called an “ear” or yellow was going to be called “yellow”? Aaaaarrrrrhhhhh . . .
You could never find these answers in any books, not even in The Monster Book of Facts or The Monster Book of Facts Volume 2 that we had in our school library.
The teachers didn’t know the answers, and they all told me to stop asking questions like these. That’s how I got to know the meaning of the words
banal
futile
obtuse
facile.