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“ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHH!”
Vicky and I screamed and screamed as we sat in Happly’s ejector seat, watching the island below grow closer and closer.
“SEE WHAT I MEAN ABOUT TRUSTING PEOPLE?!!” I yelled.
I hate it when I ask my phone about parachutes and it returns a search on panda food.
Vicky fumbled her hands all over the seat in a desperate search for something, anything that could be used to save the day.
“HOW DO WE GET THE PARACHUTE TO OPEN?!” Vicky asked.
“I DON’T KNOW!”
“WELL,” Vicky yelled back at me. “STOP COMPLAINING AND DO SOMETHING ALREADY!”
I whipped out my generic off brand cell phone. This was a job for Sally, my automated personal assistant.
“Sally!” I shouted.
My phone beeped.
“Hello Eduardo,” Sally replied in her pleasant monotone robot voice.
“How do you open up the parachute on an ejector seat?” I asked.
“I’m afraid I do not understand Eduardo…”
“EJECTOR SEAT!” I shouted. “HOW DO YOU OPEN THE PARACHUTE?!”
“I have found three restaurants that serve bamboo chutes,” Sally said. “Do you want their addresses?”
“NO!” I yelled. “TELL ME HOW TO OPEN THE PARACHUTE ON AN EJECTOR SEAT!”
Vicky kept searching.
“Eduardo,” Sally said. “I do not understand, ‘Tell me how to open the parachute on an ejector seat!’ Would you like me to perform a web search on it?”
“YES!!!!!”
“I do not understand when the next installment of BQB and the Meaning of Life will be? Would you like me to perform a web search of tomorrow?
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