Them Digits

We now enter a world where you’re fucked if you don’t remember your digits.

See that old man sitting there in the corner seat of the metro trying to type his grand-daughter an SMS? Doesn’t look like he remembers too much, now does he? Let’s see if he remembers.

“Whaaaat? Of course I remember my digits! I’m not a savage you know!”

Did you see his expression? Did you see the way his eyes became larger and his nose smaller? Did you see how his forehead became furrowed, how the lines around his eyes became deeper? That man was shocked at the nature of the question. It was almost like we asked him if he remembers his name. See, even that guy remembers his digits.

 

What about her? Yeah, that girl sitting at 12 o clock taking those selfies. Whoa, that’s like 10 selfies in like 10 seconds, each with a different expression. Are you seeing this, mate? Let’s ask her.

“This your way of asking me out for a bevy huh? I don’t give my mobile phone number to strangers. Oh, those digits! Well of course I remember, why? Oh, you’re doing some research for a documentary on Discovery? Wow. Where did you say you wanted to take me for a bevy again?”

Dumb woman. Nice cleavage though, I’ll give her that.

 

Let’s ask one final person. Look around you, who should we ask? That guy in the suit? Cool.

“Digits? Hmm…digits…digits. What are my digits? Oh shit, I think I forgot my digits. OH NO, MY DIGITS! I FORGOT MY DIGITS, HELP!”

Oh, we have one here. This guy is losing his shit. He’s taking his tie out and trying to strangle himself, screaming for his digits all the while. The metro has stopped, here come the police aaaaand they’ve taken him.

“Digits…digits….digits. What are my digits?”

Poor guy, he’s gone mad.

 

So, ladies and gentlemen, whatever you do, do not forget the digits in the pin of your credit card.

You’ll be fucked if you do.