I Tried Tweeting Off-Line

It didn’t go well

Part 1 — I tried tweeting off-line

I woke up yesterday in a fool mood to a full moon. It was the middle of the night, and there was nothing to do. (My partner is on a business trip the whole week, the boys are with their grandma for the holidays, and they even took the cat with them.)

I didn’t want to use any electronics because I’m on an intermittent fasting diet at the moment. It’s simple: no screen, no electronics between 9 PM and 9 AM. I’ve been doing it for a month, and so far, I’ve experienced overall positive results. Quality of sleep has been steadily improving, for one.

This is why my middle-of-the-night insomnia surprised me yesterday. I’m not used to it anymore. Before, I would open Twitter and send a dozen tweets with hilarious replies written in the witty style that became my trademark. My most faithful followers even call me SuperWitty.

My backup plan is to eat two bowls of my sons’ cornflakes. With a heavier stomach, it’s easier to go back to sleep. Maybe it’s a sugar rush of some sort.

But I couldn’t do that. With the boys on holiday and my partner on a business trip, nobody remembered about grocery shopping. I would have ordered online if I weren’t strict with the intermittent fasting rules.

So here I was, at 2:42 AM, without internet, without TV, and without chocolate poppy pops floating in their banana sauce. Not to mention, without a partner or cat. I had nothing to do. That was not OK.

I opted for a walk outside. As a choir aficionado, I’m always — always — singing when I walk in gardens. It’s usually low-key. I’m a bass.

Part 2 — It didn’t go well

At 2:42 AM, I didn’t feel like roaming the streets, so I went on my balcony. It’s big enough to stroll, somewhere around 500 square feet. There I am, low-key singing and walking in circles and eights, wearing nothing but my dark blue pajamas — they have little stars on them. Nobody could see me. I looked like a walking night sky with another night sky in the background. Even at 3 in the morning, I’m in ninja mode.

That’s when my singing triggered the great owl of the neighbors. Their daughter is a big fan of Harry Potter, and they got her a gigantic owl for her last birthday. It has a wingspan of 20 feet. The neighbors are a bit special if you ask me. Did you ask me?

Anyway, the owl heard my singing and replied. The combined harmonic sort of quantumly entangled themselves, I can’t explain it better, but you see what I mean.

And it triggered the great owl of my ancestors.

On a side note, that’s why I’m such a great singer. The great owl of my ancestors is a magical being that appears only under certain conditions and not more often than every 14 years. The last time she had appeared was in 1982 to celebrate Italy’s victory in the soccer world cup. Might be too many details. You tell me.

Anyhow, the great owl of my ancestors appeared. It has a wingspan of 300 feet — that’s big. It decided to sing along, and that was cool. Its voice is something to remember. It also decided to take us on a trip. That part didn’t go well.

Part 3 — There was no part three

Short story long, we flew to Kennedy Space Center and took a secret spaceship heading for Proxima Centauri. The great owl of my ancestors happened to know one of the cooks there, and she got us inside as kitchen aides. I’m pretty good with salmon, and the great owl of the neighbors doesn’t have any competition when it comes to trout.

So we arrived on Proxima in no time. Literally. The great owl of my ancestors had stopped the time in our universe to facilitate the transboarding of our souls.

And my partner was there!! They had mentioned a business trip somewhere not too far. Somewhere in the proximity, they had said … Now I understood, and I was stunned, as you can imagine. They were pretty shocked as well.

“What are you doing there? Where are the boys?”

I didn’t know the answer to the first one, so I told them the boys were at their grandma’s house.

“What? Their grandmas went on a cruise for the whole month. All five of them. What are you talking about?”

I didn’t expect that one. Neither did I expect the boys to pop out from the right side of the great owl of my ancestors.

“Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!” They said, all relaxed and cheerful. “We were traveling around with the great owls of our ancestors. We told Dad we were with grandma to keep it simple. We knew he wouldn’t pay attention anyway.”

That didn’t look too good for me.

So, at that point, I decided to summon the Mighty Duck of Lucky Charms to save me. Appearing out of my partner’s left pocket, the Mighty Duck of Lucky Charms took the flashy thingy from Men in Black, out of its left side flakes and used it on everyone.

Including you.

Smillew — that’s me — tweets a lot. He likes to write silly bios at the end of his articles with many links, hoping someone will click on them all. But today, he wants to promote another piece, written by someone else. Let’s be honest, it breaks his heart to do so, but the article is so good he can’t resist.

(Tell Andrew I said Hi!)