A city apartment. A laptop. Evening.
VLADIMIR: So here you are again.
ESTRAGON: Am I?
VLADIMIR: I’m glad to see you back. I thought you were gone forever.
ESTRAGON: Me too. So much for my social media detox, I suppose.
VLADIMIR: Together again at last! We’ll have to celebrate this. How about a fleet?
ESTRAGON: It’s late and I just received my screen time report. We should log off for the night.
VLADIMIR: We can’t.
ESTRAGON: Why not?
VLADIMIR: We’re waiting for Armie Hammer updates.
ESTRAGON: (despairingly.) Ah! (Pause.) You’re sure they’re coming?
VLADIMIR: Of course. Deux Moi said the story will be huge. Worse than anything we’ve imagined. The media will run it any moment now.
ESTRAGON: I know, I know. It’s just…it’s been almost a week.
VLADIMIR: What are you insinuating? That there is no story?
ESTRAGON: The updates should be here by now.
VLADIMIR: They didn’t say for sure they’d come today.
ESTRAGON: And if they don’t come?
VLADIMIR: We’ll come back to-morrow.
ESTRAGON: And then the day after to-morrow.
ESTRAGON: And so on.
VLADIMIR: Until they come.
ESTRAGON: … And you’re certain of this.
ESTRAGON: That we were to wait.
VLADIMIR: They said it would be Monday. (Pause.) I think.
ESTRAGON: You think.
VLADIMIR: I must have made note of it. (He fumbles with his iPhone.) Hey Siri, when are Armie Hammer updates coming? (Siri does not respond.)
ESTRAGON: (very insidious.) But what about Monday? And is it Monday? Or is it not Tuesday? (Pause.) Or Wednesday? (Pause.) Or Thursday?
VLADIMIR: (obsessively hits the “Refresh” button.) It’s not possible!
ESTRAGON: Or Friday?
VLADIMIR: But his agent and publicist dropped him! Did you not read about the construction site?
ESTRAGON: So why hasn’t the story been released yet?
VLADIMIR: Damn you, cursed media! Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed build-up? It’s abominable! When will the updates come? WHEN?
ESTRAGON: Every day is the same. Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It’s awful.
VLADIMIR: I can’t go on like this.
ESTRAGON: That’s what you think.
VLADIMIR: All we do is wait. We are bored, bored to death, and there’s no denying it.
ESTRAGON: We need a good diversion to come along. Seven days is too long to wait for the next episode of Wandavision.
VLADIMIR: (feebly.) Let’s stop talking about this for a moment. Do you mind?
ESTRAGON: Not at all. (Pause.) Did you see North West’s oil painting? Quite impressive for a seven-year-old.
VLADIMIR: No way that’s real. Who believes this?
ESTRAGON: Everyone! Experts have weighed in.
VLADIMIR: (angrily.) People are bloody ignorant apes. Just look at what the media has done to Britney. Pah!
ESTRAGON: Wait a moment. What is this? There has been an #ArmieHammer update!
VLADIMIR: TELL ME!
ESTRAGON: Er…it seems that @houseofeffie has deleted her account.
VLADIMIR: There are times I wonder if it would be better not to have the Internet at all.
ESTRAGON: What do we do now?
ESTRAGON: Yes, but while waiting.
VLADIMIR: What about hanging ourselves?
ESTRAGON: Hmm. It’d give us an erection.
VLADIMIR: (highly excited.) An erection? I haven’t had an erection since last March!
ESTRAGON: Let’s hang ourselves immediately!
VLADIMIR: (gently.) Or perhaps…we should check Instagram again?
ESTRAGON: Yes. And then we can stream Rebecca on Netflix.
VLADIMIR: A most prudent plan. And in the meantime —
ESTRAGON: We wait.
VLADIMIR: We always find something, eh Didi, to let us think we exist?
ESTRAGON: Of course. (He reflects.) That is what social media is for, dear friend. The essential does not change.
Lindsay Hameroff is a humor writer and satirist. She lives in Harrisburg, PA with her husband and two kids. Her work has been published in Little Old Lady Comedy, Slackjaw, Points in Case, Frazzled, and more. In her spare time, she can be found reading, cooking, wrangling children, or fantasizing about making brisket for Harry Styles. You can find her on Twitter @LindsayHameroff.