The Private Lives of Keyboard Commands

There is something to be said for leaving two people with very vivid imaginations, a tendency to anthropomorphize everything, and a need to turn everything into a bad pun alone in front of their computers with their internet connections.  Interrupting them decreases life expectancy and may expose one to foul language.  Leaving them be fosters friendship, social interaction, and good typing.  However, it also fosters this.

Fish: fucking caps lock
Cat: Don't let the caps lock do that, you don't want MORE of the damn things
Fish: they use birth control, and they do it up the ass, and possibly with a strap on.
Cat: Oh, good. And maybe they're gay.
Fish: no, just odd.  The lady caps lock wears a strap on and gives it to the guy caps lock up the ass.
Cat: You have intimately studied the reproductive and sexual practices of caps locks.  Do you need brain bleach?
Fish: after I write my thesis on caps lock mating rituals.  They do a sort of dance.
Cat: And which of them is on top?
Fish: Neither, they roll.  They have these slanted beds, see.

They are such frisky little things, aren’t they?  The dance is one of the most fascinating aspects of technobioloical behavioral studies (now doesn’t my new word sound specialized?) but the caps locks, which are ironically quite shy don’t allow outsiders to witness it.  I however, have managed to convince them that I am in fact one of them with my very loud voice.

Cat and I have a special bond, built on similar oddity, and, obviously, blackmail.  We met under circumstances that boded strange for our entire friendship.  Back when I was a freshmen in high school, the Drama teacher told me that she just had to introduce me to someone.  Meanwhile, this someone was conversing with an idiot who shared both her Drama and my Russian class.

Twit: Why don’t you just go fuck yourself?
Cat: I will thank you, it’s tremendous fun.

She then promptly marched off to change into her costume for dress rehearsal.  The Drama teacher dragged me out into the auditorium, clad in a blue velvet cloak and matching medieval gown.  I love period pieces, I love them a lot, but it just feels strange to be walking around in one’s costume and (gasp) meeting new people in it.  I always want to start saying, “Verily, thou art most unusual.”

Drama Teacher: Where did Cat disappear to?
Twit: I think she’s masturbating in the theater.

As the teacher rushed off to halt any possible defilement of her theater, I sat there, innocent and fourteen, trying to imagine this person who she wanted me to meet so badly, who might be reasonably suspected of having it off backstage.  I was terrified of her already.