3
They both laughed. Then Harlan’s face became serious. “Wait," he said unrolling his laptop so that it covered a nearby table. “I’m getting a signal from Rock Number 6218. You know, the one that sickly, sweet newlywed couple took home a couple weeks back."
“Oh, you mean that muscle bound jerk, Marv, who ordered us around like we were his personal servants along with his empty headed, trophy wife?" asked Lester.
“Those be they," said Harlan.
“What’s going on?" asked Lester, rubbing his thin hands together. “I can hardly wait!"
Harlan paused to inhale half a package of Bugles, then spoke. “The nitwits are getting a divorce. See, I have the divorce papers right here on screen. They’re citing ‘irreconcilable differences’ as the reason for divorce. Hah. I’m insulted. ”
“Yeah," said Lester, who stopped jumping. “Irreconcilable differences doesn’t even explain one percent of the real story."
Harlan huffed. “Yeah, more like courtesy of your code writing skills as well as my brilliance with avatars. We created fairly well-endowed dude to write his wife love notes. For the grand finale, we made sure the love notes, as well as a Holoimage of the avatar going Full Monty, displayed on Marv’s IPhone screen in all its 3D plasma glory."
“It won’t be long, I expect," said Lester, “before he sends his lava rock back to us."
“’Oh. Oh. Take the curse off me.’” Harlan haphazardly waved his hands around, talking in a high, squeaky voice. “Take the rock back. My weenie just shrank three inches.’” Lester bent over, laughing until he was almost a pale shade of blue.
“We are quite a team, Lester my boy, quite a team," said Harlan. “We’ve sure had some fun, haven’t we?" Harlan patted a pile of shiny lava rocks on a nearby table. ”Here sit the rocks sent back to the Mauna Kea State Park so far, due to the Harlan and Lester curse.”
“Read a few of the notes that came with the rocks, Har. Read some, pleeeze!"
“I like the way you beg, Les. So I will." Harlan reached into a large glass jar shaped like a test tube and withdrew a piece of paper. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner. “Hmmm. This poor soul, Pete, implores us to take his rock back, because he’s been to twenty straight interviews and still can’t get a job. The reason being, whenever employers do a background check on him, he is a creepy registered sex offender, nabbed at the kiddy park for displaying the family jewels."
Gasping for air, Lester could barely talk. “And… he… had… no… idea… that we created a long sex offender record, deftly writing the program so that Pete’s criminal record only appears to potential employers. When Pete became suspicious and checked his record, it seemed squeaky clean."
“Well," said Harlan, obliterating a Bugle, “wasn’t he the one who referred to me as ‘stocky’?" Harlan tried to suck in his belly as much as he could. “How insulting. He got what he deserved."
“He certainly did," agreed Lester. “And by the way, you’re not stocky, Har. You’re all man. All man."
