Humor

Why I Don’t Clap 50 Times

It’s not from lack of trying

Photo by Guillermo Latorre on Unsplash

I want to give your article fifty claps. Really, I do. I love your story about the evolution of the kitchen chair. It touched me. Applauding good writing is important to me, and your story deserves the full fifty claps.

Wait, where’s the clap button?

Nope, that’s comments. I didn’t mean to hit that. Why is someone arguing about kitchen chairs? Is that a bot? I should comment on his comment. No, it’s better to clap.

I found the hands clapping button. Fifty claps coming up.

1, 2, 3, 4.

Dammit. I dropped my phone. Where did it even go? It must have bounced under the coffee table. Wait, is that a candle wedged under there? How did that get there? I can almost reach it. Ow ow ow, I threw out my back.

Where did I put the Advil? I should ice it. At least I could grab my phone while herniating a disc. Is the screen broken? Is my back broken?

Why didn’t I get phone insurance? This phone is only three months old. Not broken. That extra strong phone case was worth the extra five dollars. I should write an Amazon review.

5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Can I hold down the clap button? What happened? Why am I looking at everyone else who clapped?

I want to be on this list. I want to be a clapper. Every single clapper on this list probably has an iPhone. I’m the only one left in the world with an Android and the only one who can’t give fifty claps.

11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16.

Finally, I’m clapping. Nope, guess not. Back to the home page. What did I even hit? How do I get back to the story I was reading? It had the word “chair” in it.

17, 18, 19.

Why is there a photo of a sofa? This is a different story. Is it bad that I clapped for a story I didn’t read? I should read it after I finish clapping.

20, 21, 22, 23.

Facebook? How did I end up on this? I haven’t looked at Facebook in weeks. Oh, It’s Wendy’s birthday. I better send her a quick text.

24, 25, 26, 27, 28.

Dammit, my phone dropped again. Why am I so clumsy? Am I getting dropsy? What is dropsy anyway? I better google Web MD. Phew, I don’t have that. I need to go to physical therapy for my hands and now for my back. Does physical therapy even work? They will just give me one of those colorful plastic bands and tell me to do exercises.

29, 30, 31.

Wendy is calling. Decline, decline, decline.

32, 33, 34.

How did I end up on my stats page? My last story got only sixteen reads, but hey, I made $1.59.

35, 36, 37.

Who’s at the door? Why would someone be… Oh, right, DoorDash. Nachos.

38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44.

Back on the Home screen. What’s this story? Rats have learned to drive? I’ll add that article to my list. Why do I have 398 stories saved to read? I’ll never get through them.

How did dropping guacamole on my phone send me to Wordle? Why am I so bad at Wordle? Is that a sign of dementia?

45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50.

Fifty well-deserved claps. Now I better call Wendy, ice my back, schedule physical therapy, write an Amazon review, and buy an iPhone.