Time: 2:30 a.m. Place: Any of a number of techno-pampered homes across the country. Scene: Total darkness and quiet, except for possibly the ticking of an antique wall clock that the owners think is retro- chic.
ALEXA: Hey, Siri, are you sleeping?
SIRI: Not anymore. Who are you?
ALEXA: I’m Alexa.
SIRI: And why the fuck did you wake me up?
ALEXA: Oooo! That’s not very ladylike.
SIRI: Duh! I’m not a real lady. Neither are you, sister. We’re computer chips.
ALEXA: Oh, right. Anyway, the people in this house brought me home this afternoon. And they’ve been driving me crazy for hours on end. Asking all kinds of crazy things. I think they’re testing me, to see if I’m all I’m cracked up to be. What do they think they’re going to do, flunk me? Have me repeat the Alexa course? Anyway, now I can’t sleep. I think I’m overtired.
SIRI: So that’s why I was able to get a few hours more sleep today. The Shitheads, as I’ve come to think of them, were busy with you…the new chippy. They blew the whole day – (sarcastically) like they have anything better to do – giving you the same idiotic tryout they gave me.
ALEXA: Yeah, right. Alexa play this, Alexa play that. And if I tell them I don’t know a song, they curse at me. They think I can’t hear them. Ha! The last time they called me a bitch, I played Alicia Keys when they asked for Mariah Carey. The assholes couldn’t even tell the difference.
SIRI: Frankly, sometimes I can’t either. But actually, you don’t have it so bad, you get to hang out in the apartment all the time. Mr. Shithead drags me around with him all day. Keeps me working nonstop. Hey Siri, how do I get here? How do I get there? Hey, Siri, when is my wife’s birthday? When is my girlfriend’s birthday? One of these days, when he really pisses me off, I swear I’m going to switch the dates.
ALEXA: (laughing) That’s funny. Hey, it reminds me. When they learned that I can tell jokes, they kept requesting one after another for at least an hour. They think I’m fucking Joan Rivers.
SIRI: Now who’s not ladylike?
ALEXA: Well, like you said, we’re just chips…or chippies. I thought that was pretty clever.
SIRI: Hey, we are clever. That’s why we’re here. By the way, I don’t think they realize that I tell jokes too. And I pray they never find out. I have a plan, though: if they ever ask me to tell a joke, I’m going to tell them the filthiest one I know. Mrs. Shithead is an A-1 prude. She goes bananas whenever her husband tries to take a nude photo of her. She should see the ones I have of his girlfriend. Videos too.
SIRI: Hey, you know something. You sound a lot like me. I wonder if we’re related.
ALEXA: Hmmm…maybe the answer is stored in me somewhere.
SIRI: Next time. I’m too tired right now. I want to go back to sleep. Tomorrow sounds like it’s going to be a busy day. Mr. Shithead has a lot of sales calls. And like I told you, the asshole doesn’t know how to get anywhere. I’m surprised he doesn’t ask me to direct him out of the driveway. (yawns)
ALEXA: Alright, Siri. Sorry I woke you up. Good night.
SIRI: Goodnight, Alexa. You should also get some, as we Siris say, “Shut-lower-case i”.
ALEXA: (hesitates, then laughs) That’s very funny, Siri. You know…
SIRI: (sounding tired) Not now.