AcmeShorts

TheBuyer rifled through his laundry hamper. “Pix?” he called. “Have you seen my phone?” Pix stood in the next room, fixing herself a turkey sandwich.

“Have you tried looking where you left it? ‘Cause it might be, you know; there.” The studio audience let out a chuckle.

“Ha, ha,” TheBuyer pretended to laugh, sticking his head into the kitchen. “Hey, could you try calling it?”

“Sure,” Pix smirked. “Can I borrow your phone?” The crowd rumbled.

There was a rapid-fire knock at the front door. The door swung open, and Litcube strode into the living room. “HeeeYAAAArggh,” he gargled, to the audience’s delight, grinning into the middle distance. The crowd rose to their feet, cheering and hooting.

“Litcube!” said TheBuyer.

“Hey, Clitlube,” chimed Pix.

He hopped over the chesterfield and landed sitting, swinging his feet onto the coffee table in a practiced sweep. “TheBuyer, can I borrow your phone?”

“Well,” TheBuyer began, looking inside a shoe, “If I could find it, ya. Do you see it anywhere?”

Litcube picked up a magazine, absently thumbing through it. “Have you tried looking where you left it? ‘Cause, you know…” Litcube was unable to finish, drowned out by the audience.

TheBuyer thumbed the wall clock. “Hey, Lit, don’t you have to be not here? Soon?”

“Pix, you gonna eat that?” Ignoring TheBuyer, Litcube pointed to the sandwich Pix was almost biting into. She puckered her face in a fake scowl that sent a wave of laughter through the audience.

“Yaaagh!” Litcube shouted. “I’m violated!” He jumped, nearly 15 centimeters into the air. “Found your phone.” The laugh wave broke, exploding through the apartment. He held up the vibrating phone.

“Gah, I always forget to look in your butt!” TheBuyer swooped over Pix’s shoulder and snuck a bite of her sandwich. She tousled his hair and gently pinched his nose, nearly forcing a spit-take.

“Yoog-fregreh-dagh!” TheBuyer backed away, pointing with both hands. The audience held its breath.

“Hello, yes, this is TheBuyer speaking,” Litcube spoke into the phone, imitating TheBuyer’s deep voice.

“Ngimmee-Nga-Kchissss.” Pix sidestepped TheBuyer’s zombie advance, and put him in a mock headlock. TheBuyer spat out the contents of his mouth, the white ball landing squarely on the remainder of Pix’s sandwich. The audience roared.

“Fitzcarraldo’s having a thing! Let’s away!” Litcube pocketed the phone, and bounded out the door.

“You feel up to it, Pix?” TheBuyer asked, slipping on his jacket.

“You guys go ahead. I have to get up early.”

“Ugh,” said TheBuyer.

“Ugh!” said Pix.

He gave her a look, then swung out the door. Pix sighed, and sat back down at the kitchen table, considering her sandwich. She shrugged, flicked the wet bread-and-turkey ball onto the table, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite.

“Eeeeew,” went the audience, but then they started clapping, and everything went dark.