Sufferin Psychic • Phasebook Fury | FUNNIES

Act 1: Policy of Honesty

Dingy apartment. Earl (stained muscle shirt, feet on desk) is wrapping up a call to his self-employed psychic line, half a cinnamon twist in one hand, phone in the other.

CALLER

…I called expecting some crystal-ball nonsense, but you just handed me straight reality. Brutal as it was. Thank you for the clarity. You’re like a psychic, a medium, and a clairvoyant all wrapped into one neat little package.

EARL

(perplexed) Little? You should see the size of my ass gasket. It would blow your mind.

CALLER

(immediately) Puh-what?

EARL

Nothing… just don't forget what I told ya. Alright?

CALLER

You got it. Thanks again, man.

EARL

No, you got it. Now, get off the phone with a "psychic" and go touch some grass.

CALLER

Heh. Will do… alrighty. Bye-bye.

Earl hangs the phone on the receiver and switches from the landline on his desk to his cellphone. While waiting for the next call, he opens Phasebook as he is licking the sugar off his fingers.

EARL

Another satisfied customer. Time to see what the algorithm is force-feeding me today.

Act 2: The Grieving Mom

Earl scrolls with a wet and sticky thumb, eyes locked on the screen. He pops another cinnamon twist in his mouth and keeps scrolling. The feed lands on a “Psychics & Mediums” group post from a mother grieving her daughter who passed last year.

EARL

(typing while chewing) Look, I’m not trying to be harsh, but you need to move on. Stop trying to bother the dead. She’s gone. Live your life. That’s the only way any of this gets any better.

He hits post.

EARL

(smirking) “Not trying to be harsh.” Heh. That’s rich coming from me.

A notification pops up almost instantly. The mother likes the comment and replies with a short and sincere thank-you. He replys and says that she is loved and that he loves her. She softly reciprocates. Earl smiles at his phone and sets it down to eat another buttery cinnamon twist.

EARL

Well look at that. Actual gratitude. Miracles do happen.

He enjoys another bite.

Act 3: The Swan Song

Replies start flooding in and Earl's phone is going crazy. Earl rushes to stop the commotion and opens his phone.

COMMENT 1

How DARE a man talk to a grieving mother that way! Why don't you go lose a child and see how you feel!!

EARL

(to himself) Jesus Christ, I am so tired of all of these Pagan people. Self-loathing. Insufferable! What is it with all the sudden feminism in this group?

Earl chuckles at the lady's comment and starts typing.

EARL

Lose a child? Lady, I've lost more than I care to remember. And besides, the mom already liked it and thanked me and we even had a loving exchange. You’re the only ones here having a meltdown over your own self-loathing. I mean, you’re full of so much hate for men and it shows. What's that like?

Earl scrolls to the next comment.

COMMENT 2

Typical male energy. You have no right to tell a mother anything about her child.

EARL

So, she can come here asking for help, but a man can't come here and offer her anything at all? Are you trying to say that men ain't welcome? I mean, the fact that you're so triggered is absolute comedy. So much bitterness around the fact that you just can't get over yourself. I'm not that man that hurt you.

Earl laughs. More furious replies pile up.

COMMENT 3

You’re a disgusting man. Women don’t need your “honesty.” We see right through you.

Earl never looks away from the phone. He grabs another cinnamon twist and clenches it in his teeth like it's a cigar just so he can type with both hands.

EARL

(to himself as he types) “We see right through you.” Lady, I ain’t even wearing a disguise.

Earl's eyes are glued to his phone as he types.

EARL

(typing) You’re projecting so hard the algorithm is blushing. The mother got the help she needed. But, you saw a man doing something good and decided to smear him. That says more about you than it does about me.

She immediately replies with quiet rage and even more man-hate.

EARL

(typing one last line) Thanks for proving me right.

He hits block, lets out a short laugh, and keeps staring at the screen while finishing the last of the cinnamon twists.

Act 4: Posticluar

Earl sits there and laughs to himself. He has an epiphany and navigates to his own Phasebook profile. He types carefully.

EARL

(reads his post) “If you have a problem with yourself, then why would you always try to make everything all about you?”

He picks a bright colorful background, adds an audio clip labeled “What, Why?”, then hits submit. Satisfied, he sets his phone face-down on the desk. The room is quiet for the first time in a while. He leans back, stares at the ceiling, and lets out a long-exhausted sigh.

EARL

Another day, another digital dumpster fire.

The phone starts ringing again. Earl glances at it, then back at the ceiling. The phone is still ringing. He inhales and shakes his head.

EARL

Welp… back in the saddle again. (answers) Sufferin Psychic! You see em, I proofread em. What's your pickle?