A man returns home with his newly-purchased white iPhone. Ten months of waiting—HE THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD NEVER COME!

His trembling hands struggle to remove the cellophane surrounding Apple’s minimalist, yet irresistible product packaging. “I wish my fingers were knives!” he sputters to himself, breathless with anticipation.

Finally, the cellophane is no more. He grabs the box and gently shakes it up and down, waiting for WHAT SEEMS LIKE AGES for that weird, science-y suction phenomenon that holds box tops against box bottoms in a tender embrace to finally run its course. He imagines the box halves screaming to each other, “I’ll never forget you!” until they’re finally separated like high school sweethearts going off to different colleges.

And there it is. Ten months in a single moment. The white iPhone.

He feverishly removes the protective case from his black iPhone—the vile, wretched slab that he begrudgingly purchased while he hoped against hope for Apple to save him from his own private hell—and as he seductively slides the case onto his new iPhone, his world comes crashing down.

It won’t fit.

A thousand of the saddest operas cry out at once. He screams in agony as he drops to his knees, sending birds fleeing from every tree in every park in this cruel, dank, dark, black iPhone-loving world.

Through tears, he reaches for his ruler. He’s had it since childhood. It’s one of those rulers with the stars and squares and circles cut out from the middle so you can trace shapes on construction paper. You know, construction paper. From childhood. Simpler times. Happier times.

He measures the thickness of his white iPhone, though his heart already knows that it’s 0.2 millimeters thicker than his black iPhone. It might as well be 0.2 kilometers thicker. He doesn’t even bother to convert it to miles.

He knows he has a duty to inform the world, but it’s a feeling that can only be compared to turning your fraternal twin in to the police for stealing lumber from a construction site. He crafts an e-mail to MacRumors.com and hovers the cursor over the send button for an eternity times infinity, plus one.

(This post republished from Techland.)

 
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