Goodnight Tweetheart (3 page)

MarkBaynard: How do you think he got the name Tinky Winky?

Abby_Donovan: So what are YOU wearing?

MarkBaynard: The trench coat and fedora Bogie had on when he said good-bye to Ingrid Bergman on the tarmac in the last scene of CASABLANCA.

Abby_Donovan: Sigh…we’ll always have Twitter.

MarkBaynard: I’m afraid not. I have to go now.

Abby_Donovan: Oh. Well, tell your mom I said hi. Or your parole officer.

MarkBaynard: If you’ll log on Monday around 3 PM, I’ll teach you a few Twitter survival tricks.

Abby_Donovan: What makes you think I have nothing better to do with my time than take Twitter 101 lessons from a serial killer?

MarkBaynard: Because somebody peed on you today while you were wearing a Biff the Bunny costume?

Abby_Donovan: Sigh…point taken.

MarkBaynard: You can click on my Profile and hit the FOLLOW button if you want to Follow me.

Abby_Donovan: And just why would I want to Follow you?

MarkBaynard: Because I make really tasty Kool-Aid?

Abby_Donovan: So if I do Follow you, does that mean we’re going steady?

MarkBaynard: It’s more like a quickie in the back of a cab where we trade fake cell phone numbers afterward.

Abby_Donovan: That would be the longest (and most meaningful) relationship I’ve had in quite awhile.

Abby refreshed the screen four times but there was still no reply. She was wondering if her last post had made her sound too pathetic when the words
“Me too”
appeared on the screen.

A smile touched her lips.
“It was nice meeting you, Mark.”

“
It was good for me too,”
he replied.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go smoke a cigarette and brag to my buddies.”

“Or at least unlock the basement door for your mom.”

Then he was gone and she was left staring at the empty box he had left behind. She slid the cursor down to his last entry and clicked on his profile pic. According to his Twitter profile, his name was Mark Baynard, his location was
Wish You Were Here
and he didn’t have a website. His bio consisted of three simple words:
Dreamer in Exile
.

Most people floating around in cyberspace seemed to delight in blurting out even the most intimate details of their lives to complete strangers, including the GPS directions to their kid’s grade school and the results of their latest colonoscopy. But it seemed Mr. Baynard was perfectly content to remain a man of mystery.

She started to do a Google search on his name but stopped with her fingers poised over the keys. Did she really want to spoil the memory of their silly little flirtation by finding out he wasn’t an English lit professor after all, but some sweaty, thick-necked hedge fund manager with three kids, two mortgages, and at least one ex-wife?

According to the stats listed beside his profile pic, he was Following forty-three people and had thirty-two Followers of his own. Abby’s cursor hovered over the Follow icon. She didn’t suppose there could be any harm in accepting his invitation. According to Hillary, she was on Twitter to establish a rapport with her readers. And every person she met was a potential reader, right?

Making up her mind, she gave the mouse a decisive click. She was now an official Follower of MarkBaynard. She logged off and closed the laptop, shaking her head at her own silliness.

By Monday afternoon she probably would have forgotten all about him. Despite what she might have led him to believe, she had more important things to do with her time than waste it sparring with some snarky stranger on some silly social networking site. Like finishing Chapter Five of her novel in progress.

Chapter Three

Monday, April 25—3:01
P.M.

MarkBaynard: So what are you wearing?

Abby_Donovan: Coffee-stained sweats and the hat Audrey Hepburn wore to the races in MY FAIR LADY. You?

MarkBaynard: Cary Grant’s tuxedo from INDISCREET and the rubber Ronald Reagan mask Patrick Swayze wore in POINT BREAK.

Abby_Donovan: I’m crushed. I was so hoping for Lyndon Johnson.

MarkBaynard: Are you ready for your first Twitter 101 lesson?

Abby_Donovan: I’ve already fired up Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” on my iPod.

MarkBaynard: Okay, the first thing you need to do is download one of the free browser apps like Tweetdeck or Tweetie to help you manage Twitter.

Abby_Donovan: Is it that unruly? Should I also invest in a whip and a chair?

MarkBaynard: Only if you get a leather corset and a pair of thigh-high boots to go along with them.

Abby_Donovan: Has anyone ever told you that you think about sex way too much?

MarkBaynard: Only the stripper sitting on my lap.

Abby_Donovan: So why is Twitter something that needs to be “managed”?

MarkBaynard: It’s for organization. So you can split your most important incoming tweets into columns labeled…for instance…MARK BAYNARD.

Abby_Donovan: Or PEOPLE WHO AREN’T MARK BAYNARD.

MarkBaynard: Ouch! With a tongue like that, you won’t be needing that whip. You can also have columns for your personal friends and your readers.

Abby_Donovan: Or PEOPLE WHO HAVE ACTUALLY HEARD OF ABIGAIL DONOVAN?

MarkBaynard: I’m guessing THE GRUDGE is one of your favorite films.

Abby_Donovan: Right after THELMA AND LOUISE and BRIEF INTERVIEWS WITH HIDEOUS MEN. So will this app make posting my twits any easier?

MarkBaynard: Wince! You don’t “twit.” You “tweet.”

Abby_Donovan: Well, pardon me for being such an ignorant twit. Or would that be an ignorant tweet?

MarkBaynard: Sigh…calling a tweet a “twit” is like ordering a “large” drink at Starbucks instead of a “Venti.” Your street cred may never recover.

Abby_Donovan: I’m a middle-class white girl who grew up on various army bases. My only street cred consists of downloading BABY GOT BACK for my iPod.

MarkBaynard: Well, you’re still pretty fly for a white chick. Which reminds me—you can also download Twitter for your CrackBerry or your iPhone.

Abby_Donovan: Um …what if I don’t have a BlackBerry or iPhone?

MarkBaynard: Where do you live? In a cave? Can you see Russia from your house?

Abby_Donovan: No, but I can see some homeless guy urinating behind a bench in Central Park from my apartment window.

MarkBaynard: The same bench you’ve apparently been sleeping on for the last three years? WITHOUT a BlackBerry or an iPhone?

Abby_Donovan: Why would I need a smart phone? I’m a writer. Other than the daily emergency dash 2 Starbucks, it’s not as if I ever leave my apartment.

MarkBaynard: If you did leave your apartment, an app would also make it possible for you to add photos of your travels to your tweets.

Abby_Donovan: You want to see a pic of the homeless guy urinating behind the bench?

MarkBaynard: This might be a good time to remind you that your Followers can see everything you say.

Abby_Donovan: Um…maybe you should have mentioned that 3 twits—I mean 3 tweets—ago.

MarkBaynard: And on the off chance that someone happens to be Following both of us, they’ll see our entire conversation.

Abby_Donovan: Don’t they have anything better to do? Like watch ROCK OF LOVE: TOUR BUS or KEEPING UP WITH THE KARDASHIANS?

MarkBaynard: If you want to take our conversation private, just hit the Direct Message button.

Abby_Donovan: Like…THIS?

MarkBaynard: That’s it. Now we’re both flying under the radar. On some apps like Tweetdeck, Direct messages will have an uppercase “D” in front of them.

Abby_Donovan: I’m glad you told me that. I would have just assumed you were being an even bigger dick than usual.

MarkBaynard: Is that even possible?

Abby_Donovan: Now that you mention it…

MarkBaynard: You also need to beware the Spam Bots.

Abby_Donovan: Are they like the FemBots in the Austin Powers movies? Do they fire bullets from their bosoms?

MarkBaynard: Try to think of them as malevolent R2D2s. If you mention a specific product in your tweets, they’ll immediately start Following you.

Abby_Donovan: Is that why @mrsbutterworths is Following me? Because I tweeted that I made myself pancakes for breakfast this morning?

MarkBaynard: Probably. But you should be able to outrun her because I don’t think she has any feet.

Abby_Donovan: I don’t want to outrun her. I like hearing her voice in my head. It’s all warm and syrupy and delicious.

MarkBaynard: And now the most important part of our lesson: There are two words you must never say on Twitter.

Abby_Donovan: Aunt Jemima?

MarkBaynard: Those two words are…Br*tney Spe*rs. Henceforth to be known as She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Mentioned.

Abby_Donovan: What happens if I forget and mention her?

MarkBaynard: You’ll be Followed by a Ukranian spammer whose profile pic is a photoshopped Br*tney performing an act still illegal in many states.

Abby_Donovan: Is there a donkey involved?

MarkBaynard: I didn’t say it was illegal in Tijuana.

Abby_Donovan: So what should I do if the naughty Spam Bots track me down?

MarkBaynard: There’s a wonderful little feature under Profile called the BLOCK button. Hit it &…poof! That Follower disappears from your life forever.

Abby_Donovan: Sigh…wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could Block people in real life?

MarkBaynard: The teenager in front of you driving, combing her hair and texting her BFF at the same time.

Abby_Donovan: The barista who puts whipped cream on your frappuccino when you order a “Lite.”

MarkBaynard: Your funny uncle who drank too much and hugged too hard. Wait…did I say that out loud?

Abby_Donovan: So if you tick me off at any time, I can just Block you and make you disappear. Poof!

MarkBaynard: Or you could simply Unfollow me, which means you wouldn’t see my tweets anymore, but I’d be left to pine longingly over yours.

Abby_Donovan: “I’m sorry, Uncle Bobby. You can keep talking but I can’t hear you anymore because I Unfollowed you.”

MarkBaynard: Who told you my uncle’s name was Bobby?

Abby_Donovan: Your therapist.

MarkBaynard: #TherapistFail. Pay attention, Grasshopper. Now I will teach about the FAIL hashtag.

Abby_Donovan: What’s a hashtag? It sounds like something you’d eat with ham and eggs.

MarkBaynard: This is the legendary hashtag—#. Add FAIL to it & topple empires. (Or at least deeply embarrass the dry cleaner who lost your best suit.)

Abby_Donovan: Example please?

MarkBaynard: Like #EnronFail

Abby_Donovan: Hmmm…or #TitanicFail?

MarkBaynard: Or #NewCokeFail

Abby_Donovan: Or #AnyMovieStarringPaulyShore(Except EncinoManBecauseItAlsoStarredBrendanFraserAndSean Astin)Fail?

MarkBaynard: Or #MyFirstMarriageFail

Abby_Donovan: I’m afraid to ask about your 2nd, 3rd, and 4th marriages.

MarkBaynard: As long as Wives 2, 3, & 4 don’t run into each other at the supermarket, I think it’ll be a #Win for all four of us.

Abby_Donovan: Isn’t microblogging just thinking out loud? What happens if I can’t finish a thought in 140 characters or less?

MarkBaynard: Then you’re not clever or pithy enough to be on Twitter and you should go running back to Facebook to fertilize some imaginary crops.

Abby_Donovan: Oh, I can be very pithy. Especially at certain times of the month. Oh wait … you said pithy, didn’t you?

MarkBaynard: If you simply can’t resist the temptation to drone on and on, boring everyone within tweetshot to distraction, you can always use “…”

MarkBaynard:…which means your Followers should continue to hang on your every word, no matter how tiresome, self-important or annoying because…

MarkBaynard:…you’re not done droning on and on about yourself and your exceedingly dull pancake-laden, dumb-cellphone-toting life quite…

MarkBaynard:…yet.

MarkBaynard: BUT you must never forget the cardinal rule of Twitter—If you can’t say it in 140 characters, it’s probably not worth saying.

Abby_Donovan: Ah, Twitter! Haiku for the semi-literate!

MarkBaynard: That’s all for today, Grasshopper. I’m sorry, but I have to go now.

Abby_Donovan: Did Commissioner Gordon just turn on the Bat-Signal?

MarkBaynard: Something like that. Tune in tomorrow. Same Bat-Time. Same Bat-Channel.

Abby_Donovan: Hooked on TV Land, are we?

MarkBaynard: Nick at Nite was always my poison as a kid.

Abby_Donovan: Goodnight John-Boy

MarkBaynard: Goodnight Mary Ellen

Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Daddy

MarkBaynard: Goodnight Erin

Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Jason

MarkBaynard: Goodnight Elizabeth

Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Ben

MarkBaynard: Goodnight Grandma

Abby_Donovan: Goodnight Jim-Bob

MarkBaynard: Goodnight Tweetheart…

Tuesday, April 26—3:00
P.M
.

MarkBaynard: What are you wearing?

Abby_Donovan: Coffee-stained sweats and the jaunty beret Faye Dunaway wore in BONNIE AND CLYDE. You?

MarkBaynard: Ricardo Montalban’s fake chest from STAR TREK 2: THE WRATH OF KHAN and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s shades from TERMINATOR.

Abby_Donovan: I knew you’d be back!

MarkBaynard: How could I resist? I just had to know how my star Twitter pupil was doing.

Abby_Donovan: You’re going to be so proud of me! I downloaded Tweetdeck and learned how to post a pic.
http://tweetpic.com/28251900

MarkBaynard: What in the hell is that? A dustmop?

Abby_Donovan: That’s my cat Buffy the Mouse Slayer.

MarkBaynard: I naturally assumed your cat’s name would be Pebbles.

Abby_Donovan: I actually have two cats.

MarkBaynard: You should do a head count. Maybe Buffy ate the other cat.

Abby_Donovan: Nope. Willow Tum-Tum is sitting right here in my lap, purring and gazing up at me in drunken adoration.
http://tweetpic.com/282519061

MarkBaynard: I used to do that to my wife until she took out the restraining order.

Abby_Donovan: Willow lawyered up and got mine overturned. I knew I shouldn’t have let her watch so much LAW AND ORDER as a kitten.

MarkBaynard: So is Willow Tum-Tum the secret love child of Biff the Bunny & Henry/Henrietta Hedgehog?

Abby_Donovan: Her name was just Willow, but she loves to have her stomach rubbed so that devolved into an embarrassing ritual called “Tum-Tum Alert!”

MarkBaynard: Embarrassing for you or for her?

Abby_Donovan: Both. Willow Tum-Tum isn’t the only one who adores me. Did you notice I picked up another 42 Followers today?

MarkBaynard: Or as you probably prefer to think of them—fawning sycophants.

Abby_Donovan: Or “people with impeccable taste who have actually read and loved my book.”

MarkBaynard: Ouch! You’re relentless, woman! I promise to download it to my e-reader as soon as I finish the new Paris Hilton autobiography.

Abby_Donovan: Don’t.

MarkBaynard: Now you’re just being a tease.

Abby_Donovan: No. I’m serious. I don’t want you to read it. I don’t even want you to go to my website.

MarkBaynard: Why not? Too many pics of your head photoshopped onto Angelina Jolie’s naked body?

Abby_Donovan: For the past 4 years, the only reason anyone has wanted to talk to me is because I’m “Abigail Donovan, the author.”

MarkBaynard: As opposed to “Abigail Donovan, the Luddite with no iPhone or BlackBerry”?

Abby_Donovan: What I’m trying to say is that it’s kind of nice to have someone talk to me because I’m me. Just Abby.

MarkBaynard: And Willow Tum-Tum’s mommy.

Abby_Donovan: Don’t forget Buffy the Mouse Slayer. She’s very sensitive and she’s listening.

MarkBaynard: Yeah, I wouldn’t want her to eat me.

Abby_Donovan: So I’ve sent you a pic. Why don’t you send me one?

MarkBaynard: I don’t have a cat.

Abby_Donovan: I can see that you’re tweeting from your iPhone today. Why don’t you send me a pic of what you’re looking at this very moment?

MarkBaynard: Sure. Hang on…give me a minute.

MarkBaynard: Okay…you still there? Here’s the view from where I’m sitting.
http://twitphoto.com/MB7sta

MarkBaynard: Abby?

MarkBaynard: Abby, are you still there?

Abby_Donovan: Um, Mark…that’s the Eiffel Tower. Are you in Las Vegas at the Paris casino by any chance?

MarkBaynard: Not exactly.

Abby_Donovan: You’re in Paris? You’ve been in Paris all this time??? PARIS FREAKING FRANCE???

MarkBaynard: I told you I was an English lit professor on sabbatical traveling the world and writing the Mediocre American Novel.

Abby_Donovan: I thought you were kidding about the traveling the world part.

MarkBaynard: Didn’t I sound serious?

Abby_Donovan: You never sound serious.

MarkBaynard: It’s a curse I share with David Letterman, Groucho Marx, and George W. Bush.

Abby_Donovan: Wistful sigh…I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. Tell me exactly what you’re doing at this very moment.

MarkBaynard: Sending you a tweet.

Abby_Donovan: You know what I mean!

MarkBaynard: Sitting outside a cafe called Boulangerie Patisserie, sipping a tiny cup of espresso so dark and thick I won’t sleep for a week.

Abby_Donovan: Oh, I can almost taste the bitterness of the coffee grounds on my tongue!

MarkBaynard: I’m also watching exceedingly thin women in desperate need of a Supersized Big Mac Combo Meal parade past on the busy sidewalk.

Abby_Donovan: Oh, I can almost feel the hunger pangs of the women!

MarkBaynard: If I light a cigarette, will it make you cough?

Abby_Donovan: Do you smoke?

MarkBaynard: No. But it’s never too late to start. Especially when you’re in France.