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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Satire · #878485
This is a satirical Fantasy based on a message I actually received in my e-mail once!
Fatal Exception: Kiss of Death



          Hal unpacked the new computer with excitement. He thought it was cute that the box was decorated like an orangutan. He’d resisted buying one for a long time, not wanting to look like a complete fool since he knew nothing about computers. But the man at the store had assured him that he’d have no trouble with this one. He set it up carefully, referring to the manual often. 

          Finally it was all hooked up. He sat down and flicked the “on” switch. The screen sprang to life, letters and numbers flying up faster than he could read them. A soothing tone played and a message popped up: "Would you like to register now?” it asked. 

          He clicked on the “Yes”, his first click on his new computer! He smiled triumphantly, then frowned when a new box appeared. 

          “Error # 000984376xvrt,” it said, “undefined user error.” 

          “What the heck does that mean,” he wondered, as he clicked “OK”. 

          “Register now” was blinking at the bottom of the screen. He clicked on it and was met with the same question as before: “Would you like to register now?” 

          “Yes” he clicked. 

          Whirrrr, click, “Error #0008734PHDxBLIP” he read, “undefined user error.” 

          Two hours later, in total and complete frustration, he threw the mouse across the room and slammed his fist on top of the monitor, releasing a stream of expletives at the computer. 

          The screen blinked at him and a new message popped up: “FATAL EXCEPTION” it read across the screen in large red letters. “error # 66666666666; Kiss of Death” 

          “What the…” he looked at the screen in astonishment. Just then the doorbell rang. 

          With one eye still on the computer screen, he moved to the door. Opening it, he found two men in business suits. 

          “Can I help you?” he asked them, thinking he didn’t have time to deal with missionaries just now. 

          “We’re from Macrosoft, sir, we understand there’s a problem with your computer,” one of them intoned. They stepped through the door, reached into their jackets and brought forth guns. 

          He stepped back in alarm. 

          “You never should have abused the computer, sir,” one of the men said, as he attached a big silencer then brought the barrel up level with Hal’s chest. 

          “Yeah, the computer takes exception to that, a fatal exception,” said the other, raising his own gun, silencer already attached. 

          “Kiss of Death,” said the first, as they both pulled their triggers. 

                   The End
                             by S.Tilghman Hawthorne 
copyright 2001 S.Tilghman Hawthorne
© Copyright 2004 S. Tilghman Hawthorne (armina at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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