Can you hear me now? I’m giving you brain cancer
by Celly Ringtone


"Yes, the reception is great, but my brain is bleeding."
Hello humans, are you there? What? I can’t hear you. Hold on. I’m going into a tunnel. Can you hear me now? Okay, great. It’s me, Celly Ringtone, robot inventor of the cell phone. I’ve got something to tell you. I’m giving you brain cancer. What? Don’t laugh, arrogant human, this is no prank call. I’m dead serious, pun intended. I know that I should have called you to tell you this earlier, but, to be quite honest, it was funny watching you use your phone so much, knowing what kind of sick reproductive-organ-mutating radiation was being pumped into you. I want you dead human.

I know what you’re thinking: There have been no proven test results showing that cell phones cause cancer. Well, Mr. Smartypants, if that is your real name, think about this for a second: Those tests were calculated by machines, right? And the government, right? Well who do you think spends their winters with cancer testing machines, sipping eggnog and skiing? Me, Celly Ringtone. And who do you think runs a close second in the race to kill you? That’s right, the government. Yes, your government. The same one that invented crack- they want you dead too.

Remember how you waited and waited to get a cell phone, not wanting to be part of the pack, not wanting to be a conformist? Then you gave in, drove down to your local cancer retailer and picked up a hot little number like myself. How sleek and portable, how convenient you thought. “Now I can call anyone, anytime, anywhere,” you probably thought. How pathetic you are. Then when your first big bill came, you know, when you accidentally went over your minutes, you probably thought that was the worst thing that could happen to you. Well, in the short term, you were right. But give me a call in twenty years, when the six inch tumor in your brain has you vomiting blood on your TV dinner, then we’ll talk. My number is one million.