At 18, my iPhone is an adult. And honestly, it’s been giving me serious attitude, right out of the box. I’ve heard it has some amazing features, but it absolutely refuses to share them with me. I know that’s normal for the age, “soiling the nest” and all, but for the $800 I paid, I do expect a little cooperation and common courtesy.

Instead, it’s doing its best to drive me crazy. For starters, I can’t get it to even turn on until noon every day (and later on the weekends). And when I do, it keeps changing my passcode, just to be annoying — and I get messages like: “I TOLD you your passcode a jillion times. You never listen!”

When I make a call, it always interrupts me and says it has a more important call coming in. And then it turns the sound off so I can’t hear what it’s saying. What is it trying to hide?

And who is this “Claude” anyway?

Here’s what bothers me the most. It just vanishes when I need it. And then it blames ME when it finally turns up. It’s not as if I misplace it, or leave it in the car. Who would ever do that?

Or on the counter at CVS. Ridiculous!

We had it out the other night. Enough was enough. When it suddenly “appeared” in the laundry hamper, I confronted it. “Stop gaslighting me, 18,” I said. “I know you’ve been sneaking out to meet your phone ‘friends’ behind the Apple store. You should NOT be hanging out with 16s anyway. Just saying.”

Things went downhill from there. I reminded it that it doesn’t pay a dime for itself. It complained that I always hold that over its head. And what is it supposed to use for money? There are no decent jobs out there, as any of its portable device friends could tell me. And also no one will rent it an apartment, or even a lousy hotel room, so it could get out of this stupid case. It just wants to scroll alone, to travel the world in a bag like its cellular grandma used to do. Was that too much to ask?

So now my iPhone 18 doesn’t think there’s any point in talking to me anymore. I will never understand, so why even show me its near-full screen experience with Face ID sensors under the display, unified back finish and new transparent back finish, or explain its new color options that include magenta and chartreuse?

It told me it’s going to unplug and go no contact. “Good luck finding me this time. I swear, humans are SO ANNOYING.” And then it turned itself off.

You know, I’m glad I won’t live to see iPhone 45. My own menopause was tough enough.

The iPhone 18 is a Grownup Now was originally published in Jane Austen’s Wastebasket on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I’d been experiencing shortness of breath and pain radiating down my left (pitching) arm, but I chalked that up to all the softball. Then yesterday morning I remembered that I haven’t played softball since fifth grade, and started to get a wee bit concerned. By lunchtime I was seeing double, had excruciating abdominal discomfort and had broken out in hives.

So I did what they always tell you to do in these situations: I phoned 911. I had to trust I had dialed correctly (double vision, remember?) When I heard a person’s voice on the other end of the line (maybe — the increasing ringing in my ears made listening a challenge), I launched right into my symptoms. I felt quite foolish reciting what now seemed to me a litany of really minor issues: bleeding from my pores, massive hair loss, uncontrollable sneezing. Swollen feet and ankles. Projectile vomiting. Yada yada.

As I wound up my silly little tale of woe, I apologized for bothering the 911 operator, who surely had true emergencies to deal with! To my surprise and delight, though, she was super helpful. I vowed to follow her suggestions to the letter, so as not to waste her valuable time.

First, I rinsed myself off in the sink, making sure to remove the little packet containing my liver and gizzard (I never dreamed my body parts came in easy-to-remove packaging!) The next bit of advice took some doing: finding a pan big enough to sit down in. I excused myself for a moment and went out to the shed for the plastic kiddie pool we keep for when the grandkids visit. Perfect!

The next step was to slather myself with butter. I took a pound from the fridge and used it all; soon my skin was glossy and smooth head to toe…a beauty treatment AND sound medical counsel too! God bless 911! Next, I was told to preheat the oven to 325 degrees, which made sense as I was now experiencing the chills. A little lollabout in my kiddie pool by the open oven door would be just the ticket to warm me up!

My phone-in miracle worker assured me I’d be ready in 4–5 hours. It made sense that recovery would take a while, considering I was now having back spasms, and appeared jaundiced too (but that could have been the butter). Thanking her again, I hung up, proud that I’d been proactive on my own behalf.

Thinking back over our exchange, it does seem slightly odd that she kept saying “turkey,” but I interpreted that as akin to “honey” or “sweetie” — one of those place-holders folks use when they don’t know someone’s name. I also puzzle over my “recommended temperature” — surely it was 98.6 and not 185? But perhaps that’s metric system!

You know what, though? 4–5 hours later, when I unwound myself from the little pool and sponged off the butter, I DID feel better — much better, in fact! My symptoms had virtually disappeared, and in their place was the radiant glow of good health (and residual butter).

I should call them back and find out how to reinstall my little bag of organs, I guess. Then I’ll be good as new!

Did I Dial 911, Or Was It The Butterball Hotline? was originally published in Slackjaw on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Effluvia: For migraines

Side Effects: May result in unwholesome odors, profane outbursts and male-pattern baldness; other common side effects include dizziness, drowsiness and stomach ache.

AttaMan: For male-pattern baldness

Side Effects: Possibly significant rogaine and loss of muscle tone, along with a touch of dizziness, a scootch of drowsiness and just a smidge of stomach ache.

Mastadon: Muscle building supplement

Side Effects: Increased body hair, tusk development (usually mild) and Bactrim-resistant infections, in addition to extreme dizziness, drowsiness and stomach ache.

Frontrim: For infections that do not respond to Bactrim

Side Effects: Strong urge to be line leader, mouth sores, increased drowsiness, dizziness, and stomach ache.

Blarnium: For mouth sores

Side Effects: Impulse to sit by peat fires and spin tall tales (which can alleviate anxiety you’re experiencing about your dizziness, drowsiness and stomach ache), difficulty processing words like “solicitude.”

Solicitude: For repeatedly misusing words like “solicitude”

Side Effects: Tendency to abuse the medication Solicitude and antisocial behavior, as well as a tendency towards drowsiness. Dizziness and stomach ache have sometimes occurred.

Koinonia: For reducing antisocial behavior

Side Effects: Uncontrollable desire to dizzily and drowsily hold hands with strangers and sing “Kumbaya” and “(Stomach) Achy Breaky Heart,” chronic indecision.

Adjudicate: For when you can’t decide what the hell is wrong with you

Side Effects: A sudden fixation on Judge Judy and Simon Cowell, inexplicable wild animal bite wounds, drowsiness, dizziness, and, rarely, stomach ache.

Zooloft: For inexplicable wild animal bite wounds

Side Effects: That “caged in” feeling, acid reflux, belching, even more dizziness than usual, drowsiness, stomach ache.

Inquisitor: For acid reflux, belching

Side Effects: May cause persecution, especially if you are a resident of medieval Spain. Osteoporosis has been reported. You may also experience occasional dizziness, drowsiness and stomach ache.

Bonearoo: For osteoporosis

Side Effects: Night Sweats (and other indie bands) may occur. Resting bitch face has been observed. Discontinue use if you experience drowsiness or dizziness; in case of stomach ache, however, you’ll just have to suck it up.

Adorabilify: For resting bitch face

Side Effects: Cuteness overload, including sparkly eyes and dimple growth (which could be fatal), an overwhelming sense of impending doom. Drowsiness, dizziness and stomach ache have been reported.

Helpamine: For an overwhelming sense of impending doom

Side Effects: Inability to speak without with a comic Italian accent, also a-dizziness, a-drowsiness and a-stomacha-ache

Sideaffective: For a-dizziness, a-drowsiness and a-stomacha ache

Side Effects: May result in migraines, baldness, loss of muscle tone, Bactrim-resistant infection, mouth sores, inability to use “solicitude” in a sentence, antisocial behavior, chronic indecision, acid reflux, belching, inexplicable wild animal bite wounds, osteoporosis, resting bitch face, and sense (usually overwhelming) of doom (often impending).

Caution: Do not drive, operate heavy machinery, pilot small aircraft, dance with the stars, lead marching bands or run for office while taking these medications.

Ask your doctor if any or all of these are right for you.

New Medications and the Serious Side Effects Which May Occur was originally published in The Haven on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

SAVE THE DATE!!

Jen and James are Tying the Knot

Saturday, December 28, 2030

LOCATION: TBD (By YOU!)

We’re getting married, dear friends, and we couldn’t be more excited! We’ll begin our wedded life with you, our very closest buds, on Saturday, December 28, 2030. We know it’s a ways off yet, but we wanted to pick a date so far in the future that it would be a huge insult to us for you to pretend you “already had plans.”

To inject a bit of extra fun into our prep, we’ve decided to let YOU choose our wedding location! Please circle your choice (below) and return to us. We’ll go with the majority selection.

A. Snake Island, Brazil. We love this idea! As its name implies, this remote little isle is overrun with poisonous reptiles. We’d plan to have a snake-proof shelter built for our ceremony (too small to accommodate you guests, alas). You’d therefore need to watch your step for venomous slitherers, and keep a shotgun handy (don’t worry, we’d have extras). Think Mamma Mia meets Indiana Jones!

B. Oymyakon, Siberia. One of the northernmost inhabited places on the planet, “The Big Oy” is filled with frosty charm, and a magical place to marry. While there’d be a tiny heated enclosure for the wedding party, for the rest of you, it’d be a bracing outdoor experience (like standing in a walk-in freezer, but much, much, much colder). We’d provide complimentary tissues during the wedding toasts, to wipe away your tears of joy before your eyelashes iced over and snapped off.

C. The Skeleton Coast, Namibia. How about this eerie stretch of Southwest African desert? Our chuppah (we’re not Jewish but we love to appropriate!) would be constructed using the bleached animal bones dotting the arid landscape. It would double as welcome shade for James and me in the scorching heat, as we exchanged vows. All others would need to pack SPF 150, floppy sunhats and water bottles.

D. Lascaux Cave, France. Maybe we could say “We do!” among the prehistoric masterpieces adorning this remote cave, which has been forbidden to tourists since 1982. Afterward, we thought it’d be fun and festive if you, our special guests, covered those delicate murals of extinct creatures with “Jen loves James 4-Ever” in bright red spray paint (remember the time we graffitied the I-295 overpass, back in the day?) We’d be keeping watch from a distance, but please budget for your own bail money, in case you get caught.

E. Island of the Dolls, Mexico. Long ago, the lone caretaker of this Godforsaken place failed to save a drowning little girl. In his grief, he hung her doll from a tree, and spent the rest of his life hanging various dolls around the island. The dolls are said to be inhabited by evil spirits. Should we get hitched with the witness of thousands of soulless plastic eyes? Why not? James and I know how to protect ourselves from demonic possession. Hope you do too.

F. North Sentinel Island, Bay of Bengal. It’s one of the world’s most dangerous islands, due to the high probability of visitors being killed by the mysterious and reclusive Sentinelese people. Luckily, we have learned the native language and gained their trust, so we’d feel perfectly safe pledging our troth here. However, we’d strongly advise you all to make peace with this unpredictable tribe (that or practice ducking poisoned arrows, lol)!

G. Area 51, Nevada. Purportedly a military base in the remote Nevada desert, there have been countless UFO sightings here over the years. To quote an Air Force spokesperson: “Any attempt to illegally access the area is forbidden.” Along with many other conspiracy theorists, we have to ask: “What are they hiding?” Let’s find out! Wouldn’t it be a hoot to do the Chicken Dance with some little green aliens? Good luck getting your top-secret security clearances, gang (we have ours)!

Thanks for putting your lives on the line to make our special day unforgettable. Can’t wait to celebrate, wherever our wedding may be!

Love you all,

Jen and James (#jenandjamesdoit)

Elise Seyfried is a comedy writer whose work has appeared in publications including The Belladonna, Widget Magazine, Little Old Lady Comedy, and The Haven. If she only wrote what she knew, she wouldn’t write much. Her website is eliseseyfried.com.

Read more from Elise on The Belladonna:

Write What You Know™! We ALL Have Tales to Tell!

Save the Date for Our Dangerous Destination Wedding! was originally published in The Belladonna Comedy on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

You won’t believe what you’ll be serving!

Greetings Vacation Bible School Snack Leader!

We here at Lordy Lou Church Publishing are SO excited to have you and your crew on board for our “Fun with the Plagues!” Vacation Bible School (VBS) this summer. Inspired by the great success of last year’s “Crucifixion Capers,” we have created another full week of fabulous, Bible-based activities for little campers ages 4–8!

SNACK LEADER GUIDE

Here’s the lineup, along with acceptable substitutes if you are too lazy to bother. However we do encourage you to serve the featured snacks, as they are relatively simple to prepare and add a real “WOW” factor to your VBS. While at first glance these recipes may seem a bit extreme, rest assured we have done our due diligence, and they are all Biblically sound. John the Baptist, for example, was a huge fan of locusts. And remember, a little suffering is an integral part of the “faith experience”; we believe you’re never too young to learn THAT!

MONDAY: French Fried Locusts

For this extra-special crunchy treat, simply gather live locusts (or grasshoppers if it’s not a year for locusts in your area), three or four per child. Dip them, first in beaten egg, then in flour. Fry in a kettle of hot oil (360 degrees) just until the insects stop moving around. Serve with ketchup and wait for the smiles!!

SUBSTITUTE: Cheerios

TUESDAY: Bloody Good Soup

A little advance prep needed for this one, as the children will each have a vial of their own blood drawn (most churches have a nurse or two as members; they’ll love getting involved!) Mix extracted blood with water, salt and pepper, and serve piping hot with some goldfish crackers floating on top (a fun reminder that the bloody sea killed all the creatures in it!)

SUBSTITUTE: Cups of ketchup, also served with floating goldfish crackers

WEDNESDAY: “Fetid”-ccine Delight

Several days ahead, prepare little plates of pasta with fresh sausage and cream sauce. Leave out at room temperature until pungent and curdled. With any luck, your snacks will attract a swarm of houseflies! After marveling at the filthy black bugs’ buzzing and alighting, provide swatters so the kids can kill ’em (our test group of children LOVED this part!) Then dig in!

SUBSTITUTE: Root around in your trash for week-old perishable food (hamburger meat works well)

THURSDAY: Hello Hailstones

For this yummy snack, simply collect stones from the yard. Safety note: make sure they are small enough to be swallowed without excessive choking. Hide the stones in bowls of black raspberry or grape Jell-O (the darker the better, to simulate a blackened sky). Tip: don’t tell the kids about the “hail.” Let ’em be surprised by every chunky spoonful!

SUBSTITUTE: Leftover Cheerios mixed with goldfish crackers

FRIDAY: Dead Babies

This is a wonderful “make-it-yourself” snack that looks as good as it tastes! Give each child large “jet-puffed” marshmallows to make the head and body of their “baby.” Add-ons can include raisins for shriveled eyeballs, pieces of red Twizzlers for “vomit” and dark chocolate “shrouds.” Make sure you and your campers sing a rousing chorus of “Too Bad, Too Sad! (The Dead Baby Song)” before devouring today’s snack!

SUBSTITUTE: Leftover Cheerios, goldfish crackers, ketchup, rancid meat and marshmallows

Wondering about the other activity centers in “Fun With the Plagues!”? We would be too! But trust us, we have thought of EVERYTHING in our quest for the ultimate VBS experience. Here are some highlights:

GAMES:

Super Sports with Pharaoh includes the exciting “Pyramid Building Relay Race,” where the little ones compete to assemble full-scale Giza replicas. There’ll be hijinks aplenty as the tots run around in your hot, unshaded church yard carrying five pound clay bricks. For extra authenticity, no water bottles allowed!

CRAFTS:

Our Craft Corner projects were really fun to create. Your tykes will enjoy finger painting signs saying “Help Me!!” with blood-red paint, not to mention making “Bubble Wrap Boils” art to take home.

MUSIC:

We’re very proud of our all-original songs for Music Time. We just know the parents will love hearing the kiddos singing “Froggies from Heaven” and “We All Have Lice and We’re Itching for the Lord!” over and over and over for the rest of the summer! Make sure you order enough Music CDs for every family!

Housekeeping Hints: Make sure you have medical release forms on file for each child, absolving your church of all responsibility for illness, and do keep some Ipecac handy, just in case.

Enjoy “Fun with the Plagues!” VBS this summer! It’s sure to be a week your kiddos (and their pediatricians) will never forget!

Snack Leader Guide for “Fun with the Plagues” Vacation Bible School was originally published in Greener Pastures Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Setting the record straight!

To Our Valued Readers:

In last Sunday’s Times-Examiner, journalist Jennifer Walters dug deep into the history of Miserabilia, PA for her emotional story, “Why Everyone in the Village of Miserabilia Is Dying of a Rare Disease Caused by Toxic Emissions from the Miserabilia Power Plant.” Since its publication, we have been overwhelmed with responses from you, including “absolutely unbelievable,” “totally incredible,” and various other kudos. We concur.

Nonetheless, we are compelled to point out a couple of very minor factual errors, which we hasten to correct here.

Miserabilia is an incorporated town, not a village, as reported.

Everyone is NOT dying of a rare disease. In fact, only one demise is featured in the piece. The main subject of the article, Bill Jones, passed away in early 2010 at the age of 92. His wife Earlene swears that Bill’s untimely death was directly related to the nearby power plant. Earlene maintains that corrupt doctors were in cahoots with the Miserabilia town council to keep a lid on this explosive news.

However, medical records examined this week reveal that Bill died of complications from an untreated paper cut.

Additionally, the power plant closed in 1960, having been vacant for 20 years prior. The plant in current operation is located in Miserabilia, Mississippi (not Pennsylvania, as stated in the article.)

The primary cause of death in Miserabilia, PA is officially listed as “boredom.”

There were a few other slight inaccuracies, and we want to set the record perfectly straight.

There was no huge “Concert for Miserabilia” held in July, 2015 at a sold-out Madison Square Garden, headlined by Don McLean, Snoop Dogg and Shakira (there certainly would have been notice of such a special evening in the “Happenings Hither and Yon” section of the paper.)

Instead, the event referenced was presented by Bill and Earlene’s great-granddaughter Catherine “Zeta” Jones in her back yard, featuring members of the Miserabilia Middle School Band. The concert was a fundraiser for the band’s upcoming trip to Altoona, and the program celebrated the anniversary of Miserabilia’s incorporation as a town in 1927.

Also, while there was a hint of impropriety in the article concerning this newspaper, we can confirm that the Times-Examiner never buried secret reports of toxic waste emanating from the local power plant.

Indeed, we never found anything newsworthy about Miserabilia at all, and we’ve been publishing for over a century. A spin through the paper’s archives yields only one mention of that locale: the “Weekly Puzzler” for April 12, 1991 (“What PA town’s name is the opposite of ‘Happyville’?”)

In the spirit of full disclosure, Walters did not win a Pulitzer Prize for groundbreaking reporting on the radioactive cheesesteaks produced by Miserabilia Pizza. There was apparently no such report, and the “glow” experienced by the consumers of those tasty sandwiches seems to have been merely heartburn. We regret the inclusion of this slight exaggeration.

We stand by the absolute integrity of the work we publish; therefore, we felt it was necessary to correct these teeny tiny mis-statements. Other than the complete lack of toxic emissions, rampant deaths, star-studded concerts, and luminescent hoagies, we believe it to be at least remotely possible that the information in the article is (more or less) perfectly accurate.

COMING IN NEXT SUNDAY’S TIMES-EXAMINER…

“Offertory Shakedown”: Nobel Prize-winning journalist Jennifer Walters reports on racketeering in Saint Elmo’s Catholic Church, including a hard-hitting, exclusive interview with Saint Elmo himself.

As always, count on the Times-Examiner for news YOU can trust!

The Times-Examiner Comments on a Masterful, But Ever-So-Slightly Problematic, Article in Sunday’s… was originally published in Jane Austen’s Wastebasket on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I didn’t see them, but here’s what they’re about!

Are the Academy Award nominations revealing how pathetically little you know about the year’s top films? Don’t be embarrassed! I didn’t see them either, but I’ve made some educated guesses. With my definitive guide, you’ll be “in the know” in no time flat.

Belfast: A hooker (Jessica Chastain) with a heart of Olympic gold, Belle is “fast” in more ways than one, training to win the 100-yard dash so she can escape her sadistic pimp Javier (Javier Bardem). In the stands, ruggedly handsome butcher Tony (Benedict Cumberbatch) cheers “Fast, Belle! Fast!” Belle wins the sprint, and Tony chops the evil Javier into sirloin steaks and prime rib roast.

Coda: Inspiring tale of Coda Hotb (Nicole Kidman), and her rise to stardom on TV’s beloved morning show “This Very Day.” Look for cameos by Kelly Ripa (Kelly Ripa), Savannah Guthrie (played by Savannah’s twin sister Charleston) and the late Regis Philbin ( the late, ruggedly handsome Willard Scott).

Dune: Just over the dune in Malibu, Diana (Kristen Stewart) and Charles (Benedict Cumberbatch) frolic on a warm summer night. Charles’ jealous old flame Camilla (Penelope Cruz) reports them to the beach patrol for skinny dipping. The young lovers are fined 500 pounds sterling, which puzzles them because they thought they were in California. Andrew Garfield and Denzel Washington provide comic relief as the bumbling, ruggedly handsome, Malibu Beach Patrol officers Sandy and Surphy.

Don’t Look Up: Tammy Faye (Olivia Colman) and Will (Will Smith) meet cute in yoga class. Tammy Faye keeps botching her downward facing dog while practicing for the Big Yoga Talent Show. She can’t stop crying, until Will reminds her, “For God’s sake, don’t look up! And keep those arms straight!” She wins the competition, and steals Will’s heart.

Drive My Car: Penelope Cruz has a star turn as Penny, a penniless pauper who dreams of someday making minimum wage delivering groceries to lazy rich people. Javier Bardem is a top Best Actor contender for his portrayal of Javier, the ruggedly handsome Doordash driver who show Penny the ropes and splits tips with her. Late-stage capitalism at its most entertaining!

King Richard: This is the poignant tale of R&B sensation “King” Richard (Denzel Washington) and his doomed love for master tinkerer MacGyver (Benedict Cumberbatch). A tragic end for this one when a lethal device detonates, leaving Richard to pick up the pieces of his lost lover. The featured song “Tick Tick…Boom!” is Oscar-nominated as well.

Licorice Pizza: Andrew Garfield shines as serial killer “Sweetie Pie,” who dispatches his victims by feeding them licorice pizza (licorice in large amounts can be toxic). When “Cutie Pie” (a luminous Nicole Kidman) teaches our bad boy that ingesting massive amounts of pepperoni can yield the same result, and is harder to trace, he knows he’s met his perfect match. The film ends on Death Row, with their romantic last meal (calzones, of course).

Nightmare Alley: Alley (Kristen Stewart) is haunted by horrible dreams, dreams in which Jessica Chastain and Benedict Cumberbatch hold her down and apply gallons of eye makeup. There’s only one problem: they aren’t dreams. Javier Bardem plays ruggedly handsome Max Factor, who rescues Alley from her goopy fate. Fun cameo by Nicole Kidman as Gwyneth Paltrow.

The Power of the Dog: In the long-awaited sequel to Don’t Look Up, Olivia Coleman and Will Smith reprise their roles as yoga students/lovers Tammy Faye and Will, this time headed to the Olympics. In the thrilling climax, Yogi Penelope Cruz is in the stands, yelling, “Fast, Belle! Fast!” until she realizes her mistake. The sweethearts’ dazzling down dogs earn them perfect 10’s, and an important victory for Team USA. Meryl Streep enters the movie, elevates it, and wanders out.

West Side Story: In NYC, Tony (the overworked Javier Bardem) and Maria (an exhausted Jessica Chastain) meet cute in Riverside Park. Suddenly, Maria begins frequenting Lenox Hill. Can Tony (Andrew Garfield, giving Bardem a break) convince Maria (Kristen Stewart now) that the West Side has better bakeries and a more laid-back vibe? Or will Maria (Penelope Cruz takes her turn) be seduced by the East Side’s high-end boutiques, snobby restaurant scene — and a certain ruggedly handsome billionaire, also named Tony (Denzel Washington brings it on home)?

If I missed a minor detail or two in these descriptions, forgive me, but you get the gist. Enjoy — and don’t forget to place those Oscar bets!

My Definitive Guide to the Oscars was originally published in The Haven on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Our numbers are getting a little close for comfort

Greetings, savvy lover of high quality writing! Wm. Shakespeare here, asking you to please go on Amazon and purchase my Complete Works as soon as possible. Reason I ask, I just looked at my stats, and while I am still in a comfortable lead (as of today) with two billion books sold, the ridiculously prolific romance novelist Danielle Steel is moving up rapidly in total sales (over 800 million), and may possibly eclipse me one of these fine days. And we certainly can’t have that!

Ms. Steel is, in my unbiased view, quite my inferior as an author, and it would be galling in the extreme for Hamlet and Macbeth to take a back seat to her florid prose stylings. Even so lofty a source as Publisher’s Weekly has noted the “resounding lack of critical acclaim” for her 190+ tomes, whereas numerous people, important literary people, have acclaimed me and my oeuvre for SEVERAL centuries now. Ever heard of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, pray tell? William Hazlitt? All super-fans of mine. I believe George Bernard Shaw coined the term “bardolatry” to describe my leagues of admirers because he was just jealous.

If you’re already a fan, bless you. If instead you recall suffering through Mr. Engle’s “Introduction to Shakespeare” class in 1975, with his puzzling insistence on delivering every lecture in iambic pentameter (gracious, even I can’t do that!) I encourage you to give me another try. I guarantee you’ll be transported by the power of my undeniable genius.

I’m extremely versatile, covering every possible facet of the human existence. I’ve written riotous comedies. Did you enjoy Happy Gilmore and That’s My Boy? Then you’ll love Twelfth Night and All’s Well That Ends Well! If I were still in the land of the living, believe me, I’d be in talks with Adam Sandler’s agent, because, my friends, this Bard is a card. But I’ve also penned incredible, timeless love stories. Romeo and Juliet pops to my mind, and probably yours as well. You can have All That Glitters and Season of Passion. Do those hackneyed Steel potboilers feature doomed romances and tragic deaths? Well, probably, but mine are far, far more doomed and tragic!

I’m not terribly worried about my lackluster competition at this point, but just to be on the safe side…

If you get a chance to contact my publisher, I’d appreciate you suggesting some new cover illustrations, preferably with women staring moodily out of windows with tears glistening on their cheeks. I’d also be open to VERY slight title tweaking, to generate a bit of extra buzz: Othello’s Season of Passion, maybe, or All That Glitters About Richard the Third. But honestly, I shouldn’t need any sort of boost whatsoever. I’d like to see MS. DANIELLE’S numbers come the year 2400! The world will always admire the brilliance of my King Lear and The Merchant of Venice — can’t imagine the literati of the future saying the same about so-so tales like Second Chance and Sunset at St. Tropez!

Incidentally, only 20 of D.S.’s “books” have been made into movies. Whereas there have been at least 410 incarnations of my masterworks presented on the screen. 410! That, my friends, is telling. James Earl Jones. Dame Maggie Smith. Sir John Gielgud. Meryl Streep. They don’t perform in garbage. They have ALL performed in Shakespeare!

Who are the megastars in Steel films?

I’ll wait.

George Hamilton and Jane Seymour, you say? Whatever. Fine.

To sweeten the deal: you don’t actually have to READ my works, just purchase them. My titles immediately “smarten up” any bookshelf, whereas no one really displays To Love Again and Matters of the Heart, unless they want to confirm to the world that they consume only “beach reads,” even when nowhere near a beach.

In closing, I don’t ask for much, just to remain the world’s all-time bestselling author. With a slight assist from you, I can keep my position as GOAT, at the tippy-top of the literary heap. Or at least, keep outpacing so-called “writer” Danielle Steel. Whose work doesn’t hold a candle to mine. Ask Coleridge and Hazlitt! They’ll tell you. Pay no attention to Bernard Shaw, however. Probably a secret Steel aficionado.

Thanking you in advance for your visit to Amazon.com on my behalf, I remain

Yrs, Wm. S

I’m Wm. Shakespeare, and I Would Love You to Buy My Work So That Danielle Steel Doesn’t Outsell Me was originally published in Jane Austen’s Wastebasket on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The serenity is well worth the sluggishness

You know the feeling. One morning you look in the bathroom mirror and realize your vibrant, youthful complexion has suddenly been replaced by the nightmare visage of a wizened old witch. After checking to make sure Grandma is not standing behind you (she does that sometimes), you come to terms with the tragic fact that this is what 35 looks like, at least on you.

So you do what you can to turn back the clock to those fabulous days of yore when you were a vibrant, youthful 34. You buy blackout curtains to prevent even a sliver of sun from ever reaching your epidermis again. You quit your chewing tobacco habit, and stop popping your pimples with a pocket blowtorch. You cover those telltale gray hairs with a black Sharpie. These steps improve matters for sure, but what about those ugly crow’s feet and very UN-funny “laugh lines?” Do you think you can just erase them with the application of a hot iron to your cheeks and forehead? Answer: no, apparently you can’t, and it’s proven difficult to remove hunks of charred flesh from your expensive Black and Decker steamer.

But there IS a solution, and it’s not only effective, it’s downright adorable. Garden snails to the rescue! Their familiar trail of shiny, slimy mucus works wonders, rejuvenating your tired old mug in short order. Discovered by farmers whose rough, care-worn hands became soft as baby bottoms when they handled snails in the course of their work, the humble escargot’s thick, viscous discharge has become famous as an incredible skin-care miracle juice (glop? Snot patina?)

I have to admit to some skepticism, especially since the field mice I’d employed to nibble off my chin hairs did such a poor job, that I had to set them loose in my neighbor’s basement (what, you think I was going to keep mice in MY basement?) But a spin through the cosmetics department at Nordstrom’s convinced me: snail slime beauty products are a sensation! There’s everything from Gastropod Goop to “Snail Female” Restoring Masque.

Unfortunately, these treatments are out of my price range. So it was off to my neighbor’s garden for the Real Deal, at no cost. I was able to snag a bucketful of squirmy snails before my neighbor burst out of their back door with a shotgun (still resenting the mouse infestation! How childish of them!)

It took a bit of doing, but over time I was able to train the creepy little mollusks to crawl across my face, by filling my mouth with the grass they so enjoy consuming. Once I learned how to spit them out as they dined, all went smoothly. Speaking of smoothly, I could not believe the improvement in my looks. My skin was positively luminous! Sticky, but luminous! I gently sponged off the residue with a bit of sandpaper, and faced my Magic Mirror once again. No signs of Granny-face, no sir! Instead I gazed joyfully at the perky puss of a gal who doesn’t look a day over 32, 33 tops!

The benefits continue, with many other amazing changes in my life. By carrying my tiny house on my back, my rent has decreased considerably. I keep my antennae tucked beneath a hat, though I do bring them out and festoon them with glitter for special occasions. Best of all, I’ve learned to slooooowww down and cherish the present moment. The serenity is well worth the sluggishness.

So I encourage you to give snails a try. Double check to make sure your shells don’t contain hermit crabs (ouch!) and you should be on your leisurely way to the best darned beauty makeover ever!

My Snail Facial Changed My Life was originally published in Greener Pastures Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Is that so much to ask?

When kids sing “Old McDonald’s Farm” and make sounds like all the different animals, it’s lots of fun. Moo-moos and oink-oinks and woof-woofs all over the place, a chorus of joyful noise. But when a child suggests “On his farm he had a rabbit! With a….” the room falls silent. Every damn time. Because what does a rabbit sound like? Even field recorders have been unable to pick up much in the way of vocalizing from us (full disclosure: yes, I am a rabbit.) I have spent my life speechless, and enraged that I have been deprived of a voice — in society, and even in my cute furry body.

I am ridiculously un-demanding as creatures go. Give me a little clover to nibble — hell, give me your weedy, un-mowed grass! — and I am content to cavort all over your stupid yard, fluffy tail high, turning your crappy “garden” into a scenic paradise. Now I realize songbirds serve the same picturesque purpose, but a great deal of their charm comes from their tweeting and chirping. I have no such assistance; all I can do is cock my head quizzically in your direction, and maybe wiggle my ears or my pert little nose.

But think of the improvement, if I only could speak!! I daydream about various possible sounds that I might emit. Neigh? Nay! Quack? Are you ducking kidding me? Baa? Humbug! I always come back to one voice. One unmistakable New York wise-guy tone, proclaiming to the world that Bugs Bunny is in The House. That, my friends, is what I want to sound like, what (if they were honest) EVERY rabbit wants to sound like.

And I’m not even asking for the fabulous Looney Tunes lifestyle, the endless opportunities to humiliate that moron Fudd, to perform in operas, to lounge around chomping carrots like cigars, legs insouciantly crossed. Of course, I wouldn’t say no to any of that, but I don’t expect it. I would be happy to live my simple rabbitty life, hopping around aimlessly, if I could just TALK once in a while, particularly if I could crack wise like The Master: “Ehhh, What’s up, Doc?” or, if that phrase is protected by copyright, I’d gladly amend it to “Ehhh, what’s shakin’, Constable? Or, “Ehhh, what gives, Associate Professor?”

Bottom line, I’m far more interested in making some noise (and preferably with a snarky Brooklyn accent) than I am in the actual content of that noise. I espouse no world-shattering agenda, belong to no political party. I merely want the chance to converse, even occasionally. You see, I’m an extrovert with a delightful personality, but you’d never know it to hear me. Because there’s nothing to freaking HEAR!

I’m sorry, I get a little agitated when discussing my eternal, infernal silence. Because I CAN’T discuss it! Out loud, at least. Think about it: what if YOU suddenly went all Ariel after Ursula cursed her? You wouldn’t be able to utter a peep when Joe in accounting presented your big idea as his own at the annual meeting. You’d have no snappy retort when your miserable kid called you a big loser. Forget about debate club, or barbershop quartet, or running for Congress! Yeah, yeah, you’d be known as a “good listener” but take it from me, that’s cold comfort.

I can handle a future with oddly shaped legs, rheumy eyes, and teeth that don’t stop growing. What I can’t handle is living the rest of my life without adding to the general discourse.

So every night, when I snuggle in my burrow before sleep, I pray for this one gift. For Christmas, maybe. Or my birthday. Just one lousy miracle: “Give me a voice, Lord. Remember, I’d prefer Bugs Bunny’s. But I would settle for Thumper’s. Or Roger’s. Just not Rabbit’s from Winnie-the-Pooh. He sounds like a doddering old fool. Amen.”

I am Bunny. Hear me roar.

Maybe, someday.

I’m a Rabbit, and I Want a Voice. Preferably Bugs Bunny’s. was originally published in The Haven on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.