INT. SHOP
CUSTOMER walks up to the counter.
EMPLOYEE
May I help you?
CUSTOMER
Yes. I'd like to sign up my father
for your e-mail to postmail gateway
service?
EMPLOYEE
(handing customer a form
on a clipboard)
Sure, yeah. We're gonna need your
desired username and password, some
personal details - and of course,
the intended real-world
destination.
CUSTOMER
(filling out the form)
Sure, sure... what's the price on
this?
EMPLOYEE
There's no setup fee, but we charge
the cost of postage on each email
plus ten cents.
CUSTOMER
(still filling out the
form/not making eye
contact)
Oh, that's not that bad.
The employee distracts himself to fill the time by glancing
around and at the form.
CUSTOMER (CONT'D)
Here you go.
The employee takes the form and, without looking, puts it
under the desk and brings back up a stack of filled
envelopes.
EMPLOYEE
These are for you.
CUSTOMER
What?
(opening an envelope)
Welcome to Gmail?
Before the customer has a chance to pick out another
envelope, the employee puts another, larger stack of
envelopes on the counter.
EMPLOYEE
More for you!
CUSTOMER
(taking the top envelope
and starting to open it)
What?
EMPLOYEE
Well I guess they're for your
father. Is he really that worried
about his penis size?
CUSTOMER
(opening the envelope to
see a nice healthy
picture of a miraculously
extended penis)
What? UGH!
EMPLOYEE
Yeah sorry about that. You have a
second?
CUSTOMER
(staring at the pile of
envelopes)
Sure.
The employee immediately reappears, carrying with two hands a
laundry hamper-sized bag of envelopes. He snaps the customer
out of his daze when he puts it on the counter.
EMPLOYEE
Somebody's popular, ain't they!
CUSTOMER
Don't you guys use a spam filter?
EMPLOYEE
No. That will be one hundred
dollars in postage, sir—
A huge bag falls from the ceiling and knocks the customer to
the ground.
EMPLOYEE (CONT'D)
Make that two.
BLACKOUT