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Rabbit Driving Cellphone

Rabbit Driving Cellphone

Bud Smith & Michael Seymour Blake

Everyone's on their phones. I mean out in the world. And also here's a drawing of a rabbit driving a car and he's talking on his cellphone and it even looks like a stick shift. Can you drive stick shift?

I was driving when my friend texted me and the text said, “Hey, can you believe that I just saw a baby in a stroller texting someone. Who could that baby possibly be texting?”

I wrote back, “Other babies in other strollers with cellphones.”

If you look closer, the car isn't even a car. It's a drawing of a cellphone and everyone is riding on the cellphone and propelling forward at, like, crazy warp speed, clouds coming out of the tail pipe. You know how fast you have to be going to create enough moisture to make a cloud?

Look it up on your cellphone.

I was thinking about how long it's been since I felt lost, and it's got to be, like, 2008. I haven't been lost since 2008. Since my first iPhone. We all have instant maps in our pockets now and if you're not sure where you are, you can at least see that you're alive and you're a glowing blue dot on an LCD screen that repositions by way of satellite. See that even satellites are into what you do.

Here's a drawing of a pig taking a selfie.

Think of that the next time you're taking a selfie. Think of cartoon swine. Think of yourself as cartoon swine.

Think of that the next time you're taking a selfie. Think of cartoon swine. Think of yourself as cartoon swine.

 

Here's a drawing of a dog in a pair of Levi's hunched over in a fetal position gazing into its cellphone screen. Think about how happy dogs usually look in cars. How they are jumping up and down and staring out a window. And how much they love the driver and the other passengers. Well, no love here—everyone is on their phones.

And here's a drawing of a bookworm with no books to worm anymore. He's proofreading his own death certificate via Kindle app. Yeah, buddy.

My father didn't have a lot of money. A good 25 percent of my youth was spent driving around from strip mall to strip mall in New Jersey, price shopping, comparing the cost of a certain toaster at this store and then driving to the next store and telling the toaster salesman in store #2, “I'M NOT PAYING THAT, STORE #1 HAS THAT TOASTER FOR A DOLLAR LESS."

And here's a drawing of a bookworm with no books to worm anymore. He's proofreading his own death certificate via Kindle app.

 

Now there are no salesmen. They're on their cellphones. At home. Unemployed. And there are no stores—you are buying that toaster from your car, as you drive, on your cellphone.

Even right now you're reading this on your cellphone, most likely, hiding out in the shadows at work, or sitting in a chair somewhere waiting for the moon or a loved one or your birthday.

You're that drawing of the cellphone on their cellphone riding on the cellphone as it speeds along, and you, you've got your sunglasses on, because you’re hiding from the real world, and it's bright in the glowing world you prefer, the one you keep in your pocket.


Bud Smith is the author of the novels F 250 and Tollbooth, the short story collection Or Something Like That, and the poetry collection Everything Neon. He works heavy construction in New Jersey and lives in New York City, where he has a car he parks on the street like that TV show Seinfeld. Unbelievable. www.budsmithwrites.com.  

Michael Seymour Blake is an art creator and admirer, a person who says "hello puppy" in a weird voice whenever he sees a dog, and a hypochondriac extraordinaire. He has lived in New York his whole life and has a love/hate relationship with it. He likes talking at length about movies, books, and comics. He also enjoys toys, food, and old stuff (but not old food).

 
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Short Stories

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