Part VII: Time Warp 2000’s – Cut! #13 (Chapter 115)
I’m sorry if the bikinis caused you problems.
Perhaps I was a bit impulsive in sending them.
Still, I wish the prison hadn’t sent them back.
Now I don’t know what to do with them.
For now, I have stuffed them into my purse.
At least Sheldon will never know of their absence.
*
When, finally, on
January 3, I check my e-mail, I have three new messages: two from Candy
and one from Sheldon –
When
on earth did he get an e-mail address?
I’m
not quite ready to deal with Candy…
I
click onto Sheldon’s message:
_________
Date: Wed, 3 Jan 2001 17:05:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: 😐 Sheldon Weiss <sweiss@Synerji.com>
Subject: This e-mail business is an extension of, blah, blah, blah
To: sam@artworky.com
My dear Samantha,
Just
finished with a client – tough day, can’t say too much.
Post
holidays are always problematic for clients.
I’m
not sure about this cyberspace world. Feels like an ill-fitting suit and shiny
black shoes that pinch. I’m sure it all has meaning, this need that people seem
to have when it comes to communicating through bytes and bits.
The
horror, the horror...
I,
the last bastion of Luddite-ness, caving in like a cracked Hoover Dam.
I
see no possible professional use for this method of communication. Therapy
possibilities very limited, I’m afraid.
I
have this overwhelming urge to send my darling wife my very first message, so
heed what I have to say: “E-mail is just another extension of the mail organ.”
Get
it?
Don’t
let Candy Halloran get you down; from what you showed me in her letter, I have
some ideas what might be driving her, but I’d need to meet with her and check
the DSM.
Should
I pick up bread?
Love,
your Shel
P.S.
That little Kaitlyn imp forwarded her 12/31 message to me.
So
it’s “Waaay” now? How does she understand this internet stuff?
Should I call the little theater and reserve tix for her play?
