Here is Strong Sad's computer desk, right where he left it last time. The CD's have been shuffled around, so that MC Front-A-Lot's Nerdcore Rising is at the top of the stack, and the notes on Sartre are gone. In their place sit a ziplock bag full of Oreo's and a rejection letter from Boredom House Publishers:
"Dear Mr. Sad, we regret to inform you that your short story is too boring to meet our present needs. That's right: your story got turned down by Boredom House Publishers for being too boring. Seriously, quit trying to be all symbolic and just write something with a freaking plot. Sincerely, Boredom House, Inc."
Strong Sad walks in, sits down, and wiggles the mouse. The computer screen comes on, and as he loads up the email program and types in his information, he sings, "Oh oh ohh, down at the email fac-to-ry!"
The email program connects to the server. A signal changes digital hands: encryption codes are authenticated. Data streams through cable lines, electrical pulses, ones and zeroes.
Well, actually just zeroes.
You have no new messages.
Strong Sad sighs.
"Ohh," he says sadly. "No new messages for me. I guess as long as I'm here I might as well…update my Sadjournal." He pulls up a web browser (Safari) and begins typing in his latest journal entry.
Today I checked my email, but my inbox was empty again. I was really hoping to hear back from ShakespeareFan13, from the message boards, but I guess he doesn't check his email very often, or something…