The First Fight
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Times are a lot different now than when I was a kid, but what boomer can’t say that? In fact, I remember my Dad saying the same thing. We used to have to rake the leaves and shovel the snow. Now days kids ride on lawn tractors to accomplish the same tasks, while ear buds dangle from their heads, oblivious to anything in their path. We lusted after “princess” phones in our rooms, a prize that could only be won by the attainment of straight “A’s” combined with an act of God. Nowadays, every kid comes equipped with a “Cow” or “Vanilla” permanently attached to their bodies. Even the games have changed. We played hopscotch and dodge ball.

Today, the games of choice are “Killer Taxi” and “Combat Hell”. And now this generation, one I like to refer to as the “Banger Generation,” is facing marriage. One can only imagine how their lives will play out.

  
 
The First Fight: Now this is one I hope does not happen. It is done entirely by email.

Mary: Subject: I fell in, he, he!

“Hi Teddy! You left the toilet seat up again. LOL Love, Mary”

Ted: Subject: This is an automated response.

“I am away from my desk at the moment and will not return until 1:45 pm. Please resend all important emails after that time. Ted” (Ted obviously gets a lot of emails and trashes them without a second thought.)

Mary: Subject: This is an important message (Mary sent it at 1:46)

“Hi Ted! You left the toilet seat up this morning and I fell in. Mary :~(”

Ted: Subject: Undeliverable mail

“The mailbox for Ted@Mega-Super-Duper-Corp.com is full. We are sure your message is important. Please resend it at a later time. Thank you.” (O.K. Ted doesn’t trash them; he doesn’t even look at them.)

By now, Mary is convinced that Ted is really there and is just not listening to her. She decides, after consultation with her workmate and best friend Jan, to try one more time. Being a bit on the peeved side, she types the following message:

Mary: Subject: Why aren’t you responding?

“Ted, You left the seat up this morning and I fell in. Now my posterior parts hurt! (G-r-r-r) Mary”

A few seconds later, Mary receives this response.

From: The Demonic Mail Carrier.

Subject: Failure To Deliver

“The following message could not be delivered. Try as we might, we could not find a mailbox for Ted@Mega-Super-Duper-Corp.com. Please check the address and resend the message.

Do not reply; this is an automated message.”

By now, Mary is convinced that Ted is avoiding her. In tears, she turns to Jan for a little sisterly sympathy. Jan agrees that Ted is a monster and not worthy of Mary’s affection. After all, Mary has emailed Ted thousands of times and this has never happened before. He must be avoiding her by sending these obviously fake messages. Too upset to work and convinced that she has married “The Butcher of the Bathroom,” Mary heads home to pack her things.

Arriving home at about 6:00 pm, Ted is unaware that Mary has gone home to her mother. As he enters the door, he loudly announces, “Hi, Honey, I’m home. Boy what a day. The server went haywire at 1:35 and started doing all kinds of crazy things. We couldn’t get any email. I sure hope that the people from the Robins Account didn’t try to email me. How was your day? Honey?”

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