My brother and I sat on his couch in Berkeley drinking ESB and slandering. Our younger brother Nick was moving to California. Our older brother Justin broke up with his long time girlfriend. Our sister had moved from Arizona to Philidelphia, was living with her boyfriend, and just got preggers. In just a couple weeks she was gonna burst.
I smiled. "How's this for a text Matt? 'Three weeks to explosion? Where's my radioactive suit? Can't wait to see the baby."
My doppelganger took a pull of his beer. "Take out the last line about the baby. She'll know what it means." I nodded sent the message, and finished my beer. Earlier in the day, my buddy and I had made the fourteen hour drive from Moab, where we'd gone climbing for 5 days. The travel and a slight beer buzz knocked me out and I slept soundly until I heard my phone vibrating next to my head at 8 am.
"Who am I talking to?" An authority filled voice asked.
"Uh..." I contemplated hanging up but figured it was probably one of my douche bag friends and played along.
"This is Steve Thompson of the Arizona State Police department. We have some questions for the owner of this phone. Is this your phone?"
"Yes," I meekly responded. I tried to remember the last time I'd been arrested. Luckily, it'd been awhile and I hadn't robbed too many banks in the last month. My record should be clean but still, I was apprehensive. Police questioning always makes me feel guilty even when I'm innocent. Fucking tools.
"Have you been in possession of your phone all evening?"
"Do you know anything about some terrorist threats made from your phone?"
My groggy head could not connect the dots. Terrorist threats?
"Where you in Utah recently?"
Fuck. Some Mormon stole my phone and was sending out death threats to anti-polygamists across the US. They were gonna blame me for it. The FBI would bust into the house any minute, armed with riot gear, billy clubs, and a straight jacket to take me away to San Quentin, where I'd serve life without parole. Oh man I was so fucked.
"Yes. I was in Utah."
"Do you know anything about a nuclear explosion?"
My brain sputtered, coughed, then suddenly kick started.
"Oh," I laughed. "My sister is pregnant. I sent her a text message last night about having the baby soon. It was something about her exploding and me needing to wear a radioactive suit."
"Well, apparently you sent this message to the wrong person. I suggest you refrain from texting random messages to people you do not know." The cop did not sound pleased. "I'll let you go this time but take this as a serious warning young man. Do not send mixed messages."
I hung up the phone, and started to fall back asleep but couldn't. I needed to go to the store and buy a radioactive suit.