“Who’s this?” I asked my friend as I entered his house and saw a disheveled boy sitting in his living room.

 “My son!”

 “Hi,” I said and watched as the young fellow stared at me then looked around, ran around the room searching for something like a dog looking for his favourite bone and then sat down waving his arms at his father.

 “He’s not well is he?” I asked my friend.

 “Withdrawal symptoms,” whispered my friend to me.

 “Drugs?” I whispered back.

 “No messaging,” said my friend.

 “Messaging?” I asked.

 “On his phone all the time!” said my friend.

 “Ah,” I said looking at my friend’s son, who was staring with haunted eyes at his hands.

 “That’s where his phone used to be,” said my friend. “We’ve taken it away from him, so he can get used to life without messaging!”

 “Good,” I said looking at my friend’s son, who was suddenly staring at me with the same haunted eyes. Suddenly he lunged at me and started tapping my knees.

 “Its ticklish,” I giggled. “What’s he doing?”

 “He’s messaging,” said my friend. “He’s asking whether you have a phone?”

 “Yes,” I giggled, “But I am not giving it to you!”

 “Just message him!” said my friend.

 “Without using the phone?” I asked.

 “Type a message on his knee.”

 “I can’t,” I said, “I don’t know how to type!”

My friend’s son withdrew his hand from my knee in a flash, looked at me with disdain and went back to his chair. He reached across and tapped something onto his father’s knee.

 “What’s he saying?” I asked.

 “He’s saying you’re a barbarian.”

“Tell him I know how to talk!” I said angrily.

The boy looked at me with the same disgust and walked out of the room.

 “You have upset my son,” said my friend.

 “I’m sorry” I said. “Is there something I can do to make up for it?”

 “You could learn to message him on his knees,” said my friend.

 “Nah,” I said, “I’m not too happy using someone else’s knees to type.”

 “Do it for me,” said my friend.

 “No!” I said firmly.

What shall I do?” asked my despairing friend.

 “Teach him to talk!” I said.

 “Talk!” whispered my friend, switching on his TV to watch anchors, raising their voices and outshouting guests on their show, politicians calling each other filthy names, and advertisers shouting false promises about highly suspicious looking products. “It is better he messages in silence than he starts talking like this!”

We both looked at the TV and agreed wholeheartedly to give him back his phone..!

This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.