fiction

iPhones, etc.

“Hello,” I say to the 21 year old stranger waiting in line.

“Hello,” says the stranger.

“What’s the game?” I ask.

“To make manifest the insane desires of materialism run amuck,” he says.

“You don’t want the phone?” I ask.

“No,” he says, “this is a protest.”

“Oh really?” I ask.

“Indeed,” he says.

“Can I have the phone?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says, asking 1000 dollars.

“That’s preposterous,” I say.

“That’s the game,” he says.

“Wasn’t it a protest?” I ask.

“You’re a protest,” says the 21 year old idealist.

Standard