Phonesense, Nonsense and Twenty-Five Cents — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 109 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

I couldn’t say I tweet because her father’s ghost told me to. I thought of something else. “We tweet so that we can get up again.” “Huh?”

I don’t think she bought it. “That makes no sense at all. Get up from where?” She had a point. I would have settled for getting out of jail.

I tried again “How about this: ‘I tweet therefore I am.’ That means that what I tweet defines who I am.” Big Guy said “Yeah? Tweet this.”

The grumbling behind me intensified. Regi said “I tweet therefore I am? So you don’t exist right now?” “No. I exist, I’m just not tweeting.

“You’re not tweeting because you’re in jail.” At that cell lights went dark, leaving only a lamp above the pay phone. “I know I’m in jail.”

Some prisoners on benches snored. Others hissed “Shut UP!” I whispered “They’re holding me over til morning when I go before the judge.”

“You have to post bail to get me out.” “I’ll be there.” The line behind me pressed forward again. Then Regi said “I have one last question.”

“Yes?” “Why am I tweeting?” “It’s a long story.” Someone back in line said “Time m#4ther f@cker! Get off the damn phone!” “I SAID A MINUTE!”

“My tweets are evidence of the paradigm shift.” Regi said “What’s a paradigm shift, a designer dress?” Big Guy said “What paradigm shift?”

“A paradigm shift is a change in the way we view reality.” Regi said “Tell me again in plain English.” Big Guy said “What paradigm shift?”

“How about this: Do you believe the Earth is flat or round?” “Both.” Big Guy said “Round asshole.” I covered the phone and hissed “Quiet!”

To Regi I said “Huh?” “I KNOW the Earth is round, but I live on it as if it’s flat.” Big Guy said “What does it matter what she believes?”

I ignored him and asked Regi “What do you mean?” She said “I don’t believe I’d fall off the Earth’s edge if I travel too far east or west.”

Did Regi think the world rode on a big turtle? What about the elephants? “But you WOULD fall off a flat Earth!” “Not if I stop soon enough.”

Regi asked “Why don’t I fall off a round Earth?” “Because of gravity!” “An invisible force keeping me from floating away? Give me a break!”

Someone muttered “Damn flatland bitch.” I turned in response “NO SHE’S NOT!” “What was that?” “Nothing. Comments from my fellow detainees.”

I continued “You don’t believe in gravity?” “I’ll believe it when I see it.” A voice says “Deposit 25 cents to continue.” I dug for change.

Whispers of anticipation came from those waiting line behind me. “His money has run out!” “He’s out of change!” “He’s finished!” “Hooray!”

There! One last coin! “This is my last quarter” I said as the two-bit piece went “Clink!” in the phone receptacle. Several in line groaned.

No matter. I had a few precious minutes more to get Regi to see reason. “OK. Try this: Does the Sun circle the Earth or vice versa?” “Both.”

That didn’t do it. “Really?” “Yes. I KNOW the Earth orbits the Sun. I live the opposite.” Big Guy said “Hey man, save this for the judge.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

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Why Do We Tweet? — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

http://www.salon.com/2011/10/23/why_chomsky_is_wrong_about_twitter/

 Here are Week 108 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

They looked doubtful. “I’ve spent my career putting lowlifes like you guys in places like this. I know something about guilt and innocence.”

Scowling, Big Guy said “No need to get personal. You don’t know me.” Everyone nodded or said “Me too.” “Yet here you all are.” “You too.”

This discussion wasn’t getting us anywhere. I wasn’t convincing them of my innocence. They weren’t convincing me of their not-guilty-ness.

I considered pressing the issue but I happened to be the only ex-cop in the holding cell. The odds weren’t good that my point would prevail.

It was my turn to call. Depositing a quarter, I dialed my own phone. Regi picked up “Hello?” “Hi Regi.” “Arkaby? How are you calling me?”

“You’re my one phone call. Are you coming to bail me out?” “Uh, sure! On my way!” What a relief! I didn’t relish spending the night in jail.

With Regi on the job my jail time was finite. She was one focused on getting it done! Then she said “Why is the ringtone ‘Brown Eyed Girl’?”

Huh? My ringtone? Behind me a guy muttered “Hurry up.” I replied “I like ‘Brown Eyed Girl.'” Big Guy said “I bet.” Other inmates snickered.

Regi said “You know my eyes are blue don’t you?” A trick question? “Uh sure! I just like that song.” Someone behind me said “Hurry up, man!”

I gave him a look. “What about ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’?” What were we talking about? “What about it?” “‘She’s got eyes of the bluest skies…'”

“That’s good too.” Someone yelled “Get off the phone!” I displayed a finger. “‘I’d hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain.'”

“Still quoting Guns N’ Roses?” “Just saying it would make a good ring tone.” “Got it.” Big Guy says “Are you getting music on that phone?”

I covered phone and said “I’ll finish in a minute.” Regi said “Where do we go, where do we go?” “GOT IT!” “No seriously. Where do we go?”

Big Guy said “Yeah, you got it all right.” Others waiting in line pressed forward. “Regi, I’m calling on a payphone in my communal cell.”

Shoved up against the phone I said “There’s a line waiting behind me that’s, let’s say, impatient.” My cellmates chanted “Hang up! Hang up!”

Bracing against the wall, I continued “Get me out of here to a warm safe place and I’ll figure out where do we go.” “Get off the phone!”

“Are you still tweeting?” “Of course I am.” Clasping the phone handset between my cheek and shoulder, I shrugged my jacket off once again.

There’s a place you go in your mind at times like these. “Is that why you take so long to answer me? “Yes.” I couldn’t shift my balance.

Why did they push me up against the wall? “You have to finish our conversation and then tweet it afterwards.” I didn’t know what to expect.

Regi said “OK. Why do I have to tweet everything?” Anticipating possibilities, I turned sideways and said “I’LL BE DONE IN A MINUTE!” “Huh?”

Uh oh. Had I just yelled that into the phone? Everyone in line took a step back. “I was speaking to the guy behind me.” “Why do we tweet?”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Celly Season — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 107 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

I stood center cell and shouted ‘Someone better move over!'” “You challenged the entire cell? What happened?” “Nothing. They went to sleep.”

“They ignored you?” “Contrary to popular opinion most prisoners aren’t interested in fighting, especially when they already have the bench.”

“What did you do?” “I got in line to call you on the pay phone.” “You sounded like you were fighting then.” “I don’t remember it that way.”

“Check your Twitter history. I tweeted everything like you asked.” I scroll back to check Regi’s posts. Browneyed Girl. Sweet Child ‘O Mine.

“If I didn’t have Arkaby I don’t know what I do.” Regi circles Body Parts R Us while tweeting. A “reverse Joker?” Ah here’s the phone fight!

Reading Regi’s tweets from yesterday reminds me of my time in the holding cell. I forgot standing in that long line to make my one call.

The one call rule wasn’t enforced by corrections cops. It was enforced by the other prisoners waiting their turn to call before lights out.

The length of your one call was determined by the quarters you had in your pockets after they confiscated your wallet and other belongings.

With no place to sit, I counted the quarters left in my pocket. Someone tapped me from behind. “Hey! Didn’t you used to be a cop?” he said.

“Criticize me all you want. I get the job done.” He was big and broad and he wasn’t interested in making a new friend. “Who wants to know?”

Several detainees raised their hands. “I’m not a cop anymore. Did I put any of you behind bars?” Everyone looked away or dropped his head.

Big Guy said “Take it easy ‘Not a cop anymore.’ We’re not here to cast stones. Bygones. We just wonder what brings you to our humble abode.”

“Why am I here?” I looked around the cell crowded with recumbent detainees, a single commode/sink and one pay phone. “Vengeance.” I said.

They all moved away a little. Big Guy said “Payback? Against who?” “Against me.” They retreated a bit further. “You busted yourself?”

“Huh?” “You are hardcore! How did you do it? Was it a clash of wills? Did you make yourself suffer? How did you overcome your resistance?”

“I can’t take credit for my apprehension.” “You’re too modest!” “Really. This is all payback by my former boss to justify HIS apprehension.”

After a silent moment Big Guy said “Wait. What?” Another detainee asked “You’re the new boss, same as the old boss? That’s fucked up, man.”

I said “You got it wrong. I’m no boss. I didn’t put myself in here. I’m innocent.” “Me too.” “Me too.” Everyone nodded or raised his hand.

I shook my head. “No seriously. I’m innocent. I was set up by a spiteful person.” “Me too.” “Me too.” Everyone nodded or raised his hand.

The call line inched forward. Big Guy said “We’re all innocent ’til proven guilty.” “Yeah, but I’m especially innocent!” “Me too.” “Me too.”

“What they say you did?” “They say I vaporized a guy.” “Vapor-what?” “The victim was dissolved.” “No shit? How’d you do that?” “I didn’t!”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

The Wrong Side of the Lollipop — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 106 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

“You’re out no matter what happens with your case.” “We’ll see. Regi, are you still tweeting?” “Yes.” “I want a record. Tweet this.” “I am.”

Rixey says “Birdbrains of a feather tweet together” and walks away. I say “Where to now Arkaby?” “We go solve Farley Granger’s murder.”

“I’ll take over phone duties.” “Good. I don’t want to tweet while driving.” “So let me have the phone.” “One minute. Just finishing up.”

Time to pass the torch. Better than carrying one. “Regi.” “A moment.” So much left unsaid, or to put it another way left untweeted. “Regi?”

“You don’t have to do that.” “Almost done.” Twitter has been a distraction but at the same time I’m tempted to start my own account. Not!

It’s only been a day, but I feel like I’ve tweeted on this damn thing for weeks! How does Arkaby do it? He says “Regi?” Why does he do it?

Why does he document everything that happens to him? Is tweeting addicting? Has time in jail changed him? Has it increased his street cred?

“Regi!” Arkaby’s clearly impatient to get his phone back. Or maybe it’s that I’m driving while I tweet? “REGI!” “OK!” The rest is silence.

To be free again, first you have to be imprisoned. Not that I recommend jail as the path to liberation, but it is better to be out than in.

I buckle into shotgun as Regi peels her hatchback away from the Detention Center parking lot. I say “Slow down. I just got out of jail.”

Regi says “I knew that. Was it bad?” “Yep.” How do I explain? Like many cops, I’ve spent my time putting people who offend me behind bars.

Regi glances at my tweet. “Offend you?” “I mean social offenders. It was strange to be on the wrong side of the lollipop.” “You mean law?”

“The law just got on the wrong side of me.” “Arkaby, you’re no longer a cop. How will you find Farley’s killer now?” “I’ll figure it out.”

“Let’s get me some clothes and food and then we’ll decide the next step.” “OK. What happened to you in jail? What happened to your clothes?”

“I got into a fight.” “There were others in your cell?” “Not where you found me. Originally I was put in a cell with twenty other perps.”

“I’ve never heard of twenty prisoners in a single cell.” “It was an overnight holding cell because we were too late to see the judge.”

“Were there twenty beds?” “Just benches.” “You spent the night stretched out on a bench?” “I wish. Some detainees grabbed them first thing.”

“They took all the benches?” “They stretched out along each bench and then some others crawled underneath and stretched out on the floor.”

“There’s a place you go in your mind at times like these. You don’t know why they hog all the benches. You don’t know what to expect.”

“Anticipating possibilities, I turned sideways to shrink my target area, shifted my heels and bent my knees to lower my center of gravity.”

“You didn’t shed clothing, did you?” “Well, they had confiscated my tie and belt, so I just removed my jacket and wrapped it around my arm.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)