Not Doing Nothing

Sweezus's phone rings.

It's Vello.

Hey, boss, says Sweezus. What's up?

Nothing, says Vello, and that's why I'm calling. When may we expect Sartre's next blog post?

He's been heaps busy, says Sweezus. I'll ask him.

He's left our readers hanging, says Vello. 

Yeah? says Sweezus. What was the last thing he wrote?

But the unforeseen happened... says Vello.

It keeps on happening, says Sweezus.

But we need to know what it is, says Vello. 

Sure, no worries, says Sweezus. He's doing nothing right now.

Are you talking about me? asks Sartre. I'm not doing nothing.

He's wiping his fingers, says Simone. 

That was the boss, says Sweezus. Wants to know when you'll be posting.

I can't type with sticky fingers, says Sartre.

You could type one letter, says Terence.

No one takes any notice.

Then you'd have to stop, says Terence. Because your finger would be stuck to your phone.

Not necessarily, says Simone. The glue doesn't dry for twenty minutes.

How long has my glue been drying? asks Terence.

Ten minutes, says Simone. Are you pressing it down?

Yes, says Terence. 

I could dictate, says Sartre. 

What a sensible idea, says Simone. You dictate and I'll type.

Sartre hands Simone his phone.

Where was I? asks Sartre.

But the unforeseen happened, says Simone. That would be Terence's claw. Are you starting from there?

I planned to, says Sartre. 

Go on, says Simone.

But the unforeseen happened (dictates Sartre). The artificial finger came off. Our young colleague needed a replacement. Where might I find a replacement finger in Barcelona? 

Wait a second, says Simone. Why haven't you mentioned that the artificial finger was a claw? And the young colleague didn't want it glued back, which was the obvious solution, because he'd discovered in the meantime that the original claw owner, his blood brother, had died.

Is this about me? asks Terence.

Yes  says Terence.

Which one am I? asks Terence.

The young colleague, says Sweezus. 

Not the blood brother? asks Terence. 

The blood brother died, says Sweezus. 

But I'm HIS blood brother, says Terence.

Yeah, but you're still alive, says Sweezus. 

There, you see! says Sartre. I decided to leave out such complications.

I still think you should mention the reason....begins Simone.

Sartre thought this might happen, if Simone was involved.

He sighs.