How's that for a minor miracle?
Oct. 3rd, 2007 12:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladymirthOnce upon a time, there was a little cell phone who only wanted to be loved. It had the misfortune to be owned by a girl who wanted her old Nokia 2300 phone back, and simply didn't care about this cell phone. The little cell phone tried hard to impress his new mistress; it kept running even when the girl forgot to charge it for days on end and showed off its little camera and video recorder every day. The girl simply wasn't impessed, and continued to pine for her old, useless phone that her mother had made her give away.
The little cell phone grew very sad and blue at this neglect, but resigned itself to a life without love. It was neglected and abused shamefully by the girl as the months went on, being banged upon countless hard surfaces, being cursed at when the reception was cut off anytime the girl forgot to pay her phone bill, and generally being left lying around and forgotten in the most bizzare places. It eventually stopped flashing it's lights and perky dancing and got depressed and unkempt and didn't even care when the soft plastic thingummies on the sides peeled off due to heat exposure and being bounced about.
But one day, there came an all time low.
One day the girl was looking for her cellphone all over the house. Usually she would have shrugged it off and borrowed her Mum's phone if the first cursory search had not turned it up, but the phone number she needed was in the SIM memory, so she searched the whole house for it with unaccustomed zeal. Finally she stopped and thought back. She remembered stowing the phone in the back pocket of her jeans on her way home from campus last evening and then....
Then she did something peculiar. She dashed to the washing machine and turned it off, mid-soapy spin cycle. Unfortunately, the machine was programmed not to open if the inside was chock-full of water. So she hammered and twisted at the door handle and kicked it until the much-abused machine door gave way in a huff. Out tumbled the dirty underwear and half-washed clothes in a splash of soapy water. And coming clattering out of a jeans pocket was the little cell-phone, half-drowned and covered in scratches and soap bubbles.
The girl's heart broke.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, little phone," she cried. "I didn't MEAN to kill you! You can't be dead! You're the strongest phone I know! I swear I'll take better care of you from now on. I'm so sorry for all the mean things I did to you! Please, please turn on! Come on! Blink one of your annoying lights at me!"
The phone saw a bright white light and angels who promised to take it away from its miserable unloved existence to a place where all good cell phones were rewarded. But it could hear its mistress crying for him as from a distance, and knew that beneath all her harsh treatment , she really was quite fond of it and needed it. (Especially since it had half her contacts in it.)
In the girl's hands, the little phone coughed to life and blinked feebly.
It was safe. And working.
Yes, there really are angels watching over moronic cell phone users.
The little cell phone grew very sad and blue at this neglect, but resigned itself to a life without love. It was neglected and abused shamefully by the girl as the months went on, being banged upon countless hard surfaces, being cursed at when the reception was cut off anytime the girl forgot to pay her phone bill, and generally being left lying around and forgotten in the most bizzare places. It eventually stopped flashing it's lights and perky dancing and got depressed and unkempt and didn't even care when the soft plastic thingummies on the sides peeled off due to heat exposure and being bounced about.
But one day, there came an all time low.
One day the girl was looking for her cellphone all over the house. Usually she would have shrugged it off and borrowed her Mum's phone if the first cursory search had not turned it up, but the phone number she needed was in the SIM memory, so she searched the whole house for it with unaccustomed zeal. Finally she stopped and thought back. She remembered stowing the phone in the back pocket of her jeans on her way home from campus last evening and then....
Then she did something peculiar. She dashed to the washing machine and turned it off, mid-soapy spin cycle. Unfortunately, the machine was programmed not to open if the inside was chock-full of water. So she hammered and twisted at the door handle and kicked it until the much-abused machine door gave way in a huff. Out tumbled the dirty underwear and half-washed clothes in a splash of soapy water. And coming clattering out of a jeans pocket was the little cell-phone, half-drowned and covered in scratches and soap bubbles.
The girl's heart broke.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, little phone," she cried. "I didn't MEAN to kill you! You can't be dead! You're the strongest phone I know! I swear I'll take better care of you from now on. I'm so sorry for all the mean things I did to you! Please, please turn on! Come on! Blink one of your annoying lights at me!"
The phone saw a bright white light and angels who promised to take it away from its miserable unloved existence to a place where all good cell phones were rewarded. But it could hear its mistress crying for him as from a distance, and knew that beneath all her harsh treatment , she really was quite fond of it and needed it. (Especially since it had half her contacts in it.)
In the girl's hands, the little phone coughed to life and blinked feebly.
It was safe. And working.
Yes, there really are angels watching over moronic cell phone users.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-03 12:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-03 02:34 pm (UTC)=D
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-05 07:59 am (UTC)oh this is Sadhi btw :P thought that you should know who has this much of sarcastic love for you. cant have someone else taking credit for it na ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-03 11:39 pm (UTC)See ya,
Anna. :D