why cell phones never caught on

Authors note: I’ve always considered the line between prose and poetry to be arbitrary.

“You have reached Caesar’s phone. I’m sorry I can’t take your call at this time, please… Beep. Hello? Hi Mark Antony. No… I was in the bath, you know, the plump slave you found for me… what’s that? I can’t hear you. What? No, no it’s the new plan advertised at last month’s games. Yeah that one, free minutes, unlimited text, what a mistake. Crappy service. Whatever happened to pleasing the customer? I still can’t hear you Mark. Last night? You were at a march with Ida? Who? The Senate? A march on the Senate? You’re breaking up again… meet me with a petition? Stupid phone… no not you, no! I told you I’m not upset about Cleopatra’s mistake… that’s ancient history… I’m ancient history if I march with Ida? Who is this Ida? At the Senate? How dare this woman… hello? Hello? Stupid cell phone, I hate these things.”

“I’ll show this Ida she’s made a big mistake. No one marches on the Senate while I’m in charge. Where’s my fresh tunic? Petition my ass… just wait till I get my hands on you Brutus.”

The Daily Post prompt


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