787. Muse Calls

“Oh, MOV, you aren’t going to believe this, but—”

“You were fired.” 

“Yes!  How did you know?” 

“I suspected.  But what’s the reason?  Lack of pilot’s license?  Criminal record?  Grand Theft Auto?  DUI?” 

“No, no, none of those things.  And I do have my pilot’s license.  I used to fly for Independence Air, didn’t I tell you that?” 

Muse was full of surprises.  “No, no, I never knew that, actually.”  I was impressed, but I didn’t want her to know I was.  Her ego was big enough to fit in a small plane, or a big plane. 

“I think I’m going to take them to court.  It was unconstitutional of them to fire me.” 


“Delta is allowed to fire you for a having a jail record.” 

“That’s not it, MOV.  I lost my job because of Facebook.” 

“What?  Are you kidding me?  What happened?” 

“They called me into the office after a flight and asked me to take some things off my Facebook page.  I refused.” 


“Like what?  What things?” 

“Well, just a few pictures of me partying, and maybe the chandelier photo where I may or may not be wearing undergarments.” 

“You were swinging from a chandelier naked?  What are you, Britney Spears?”   

“No, no, nothing like that.  It’s just, well, the photographer told me we were going to do a few artistic shots, so I wanted to be accommodating …”


“Artistic?  Artistic?  Oh, Muse, that’s the oldest line in the book!  But, okay, who cares about that, what did the Delta people say when you told them you’d take the questionable photos off your page?” 

“No, you don’t understand—I didn’t say that.  I said I was leaving them up, and if it mattered that much, they could fire me.” 

“They called your bluff.” 

“I wasn’t bluffing.” 

“So you would rather not have a job, a good job with good benefits, so you can have your Facebook page?” 

“No, it was the principle of it.  But anyway, I got rid of my Facebook.  Too time consuming.” 

“Muse, back up.  You stood by your principles that you deserved to keep your Facebook page, and then you got fired, and then you quit Facebook anyway?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“I told you, it’s a time suck.  I had too many friends to keep track of.  And everyone was all, Hey Muse, hey, be my friend! And I’m all, Hey I don’t even know who you are! And then it turns out I met them at some party or they’re friends with some of my friends, or whatever.  Ugh.  I’d had enough.”

“Wait—how many friends exactly did you have?”

“Oh, I dunno, like 17, 368?  Something like that.  Oh, no, did I say 17,000?  Gah, I’m so dyslexic.  I mean 71,000.  That’s kind of average, though, right?” 

(I wasn’t on Facebook, but most people I knew did not have friends into the four or five figures.) 

“Muse, I think most normal people might have between 100 and 300 friends.  700 would be really high.” 

“Oh, well, good, they can have some of mine!  I don’t need them anymore!” 


I couldn’t think of anything to say.  I just waited for her to fill in the silence, it would happen soon enough. 

“So guess what, my phone is ringing like crazy!  I had to change my number!” 

“What now?” 


“Were you not listening?  Everyone is freaking out that I am off Facebook.  They’re all, Hey Muse, are you dead?  What happened?  Did I make you quit Facebook?  Everyone takes things so personally.” 


“Is it liberating, not being on it?” 

“It is.  I don’t miss it.  Except …”

“What?  What do you miss?” 

She sighed.  “Well, every once in a while, Prince William would post on my wall.  That was nice.” 

“But, Muse, he’s married!” 

“This is before they were engaged.  Remember, he and Kate were broken up for a while?  Broken up, back together, on a break, blah blah.  He kept changing his status.  We hooked up a couple of times.” 

The thought of Muse almost becoming Princess Muse was too much to bear. 

“You?  William?” 

“Mmmmm.  Yes.  And polo is not his only skill set, if you know what I mean.”  Muse giggled, then stopped abruptly. 

“I gotta go, MOV.  It was great talking to you.” 

“Wait—where are you going?” 

“I have a lunch date with my lawyer in half an hour.  He’s going to try to get my job back for me.  And right after that, I have a meeting with a movie producer.  I’m going to pitch my story.” 

“Oh, Muse.  Good luck with that.” 

“I don’t need luck, MOV.  I am luck.” 

MOV