The Bats Knees

Resin Frogs

There is a figure standing behind you. You can see it through your screen. Its hands are on your shoulders and it is speaking to you. Don’t turn around, Don’t acknowledge it. It doesn’t know you are watching. 

Tie copper wire around your headphone cords. That will keep out the worst of the hymns. The rest of the chorus you will have to deal with yourself.

If Zoom does not close immediately when you exit, drape a cloth over your device to cover the screen. That will keep it from getting out. 

Have a knife at the ready. You never know what manner of thing may try to interrupt your call. 

Ward your device with blood or wine, a simple seal on your screen should do. There are always things lurking in the homes of others and you wouldn’t want them crawling through to your side.

Make sure your screen name is a lie. You don’t know what is watching, waiting for you to give it so freely. 

Others may join; you don’t recognize them, you’ve never seen them before in your life. Their smile is wide with too many teeth and their eyes are bright and unblinking. Can they just say they are so excited to have been invited to this meeting. Would you mind if they shared something on their screen?

Do. Not. Let. Them.

Be wary of those who become disconnected and come back strange. Check the participants. You won’t find their name on the list.