Last night I had a dream. Strike that, it was an absolute nightmare. In it, my 24-hour-old IPHONE 4 rested innocently in my pocket. I received a text from none other than country singer Martina McBride. As I was reading the text that said, “Follow Your Dreams, Girl,” the phone slipped from my grasp, crashing against the concrete. It was as if I tightly gripped a wet bar of soap.
I slowly picked it up. I felt like a child about to look at a test I knew I failed. I noticed it wasn’t damaged. Phew. [wipe imaginary sweat off my forehead] I was absolutely relieved.
But then…the screen…started to crack…inch by inch…down the middle. I rolled my eyes as if they were saying, “You’ve GOT to be kidding me.” I cried; and I cried; and I cried. My body became lethargic, too heavy to hold itself up. The dead weight fell to the ground and I passed out.
I awoke on a dirt road in a seemingly foreign land. There was a sign that read, “Hi Becky. Welcome to Upside-DownVille”. I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say the townspeople were comprised of 1998 cast members from the NBC medical drama ER. That part of the dream was actually pretty fun.
A new life was brought into the world this morning.
Today my IPHONE 4 cover arrived in the mail. I sat at my desk knowing the Due Date had arrived. I waited and waited for the mailman. Finally he arrived and handed me this package.
I looked lovingly at the package.
I ripped the box open. It was really strenuous for me to do.
No need for Emergency Surgery.
I opened the plastic box thing, no trouble and held the case in my hand.
The shininess of the neon case blinded me temporarily.
I slammed them together for fun.
But then screamed because I thought I cracked the screen.
I put the case on the phone, pretending I had no lips.
Then I got a text from Martina McBride telling me to, “Follow [My] Dreams”.
I then cried for three minutes.
We all lived happily ever after. [for now]