betty_white_computers

Gabe loves fan fiction. You Can Make It Up features his own personal alternate adventures starring some of our favorite characters.

Betty White’s phone rang. She picked up the receiver and spoke into the conical mouthpiece. “Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line was very faint, so Betty gave the lever a few cranks. That was better. “Hello?” She pulled a Werther’s Original from her right housecoat pocket, and delicately unwrapped it. She placed the warm toffee in her mouth, and then carefully tucked the empty wrapper into her left housecoat pocket. Each week, she would refill her right housecoat pocket with more candies, and empty out the wrappers from the left housecoat pocket. She had found, over the years, that life was made easier by having reliable routines.

“Betty, babe, it’s me.” It was Betty White’s publicist. Betty could hear her loudly smacking on that cocaine-flavored gum she was always chewing. And she could picture her staring at her nails the way she always did, like some harlot who had double-filled her dance card. But Betty always kept her mouth shut (lest the candy fall out), because the woman had been incredibly effective in secretly resuscitating her career and making it look like a grassroots Internet campaign. Which reminded her, she needed to call her nephew and ask him what the Internet was.

“Oh hi, Sybil,” Betty said. “I was just eating a candy.”

“That’s great. Betty, sweetheart, I need you to do me a favor. Everything’s been going great with this whole 10th-inning career reboot. Everybody wants a piece of your hot, geriatric ass. And the best part is everyone thinks this was their idea. And I look like a fucking genius. But what is gonna take to get you on Facebook? The kids will eat it up, Betty.”

Betty watched a squirrel playing in the yard. “That’s nice dear.”

The publicist sighed. “Stay with me, Betty. Will you set up a Facebook account? I’m telling you, people on the Internet will shit their pants. They will jizz EVERYWHERE.”

Betty White should have been upset by the crudeness of her publicist’s language, but she wasn’t, because she hadn’t heard it, because she’d set the phone down to go outside to pet the squirrel.

“OK,” the publicist said, a hopeful tone in her voice. “I’m sending someone from the office over this afternoon with a computer. He’s going to help get you set up. Stay bad, bitch.” The publicist hung up her Bluetooth and punched the gas in her Maserati. Her dog was going to be late for puppy pilates!

Later that afternoon, a young man in a two-button Ed Hardy suit and wraparound Oakleys with the Bluetooth headset actually built in to the arms knocked on Betty White’s door. She invited him in, but before he could say anything, she had already sat him down for tea and cucumber finger sandwiches. “A gentleman puts the napkin in his lap,” she said sternly, motioning towards the iron-pressed napkin rolled in an ivory napkin holder. The young man, high out of his mind, and still thinking about the blowjob he’d gotten that afternoon from a girl he had told he was casting director stared at her. “A gentleman puts the napkin in his lap,” Betty White said again. The gentleman, who was not a gentleman at all, did.

After tea, the young man booted up the computer he had brought with him and asked Betty for her wireless password. “My what-erless huh?” Betty said. The young man groaned and then plugged a 3G wireless card into the USB port. Once he was on-line he went to Facebook. “OK, he said,” desperate to get out of there and go call his drug dealer for some more expensive designer drugs like the kind he was on right now. “You’re all set. You just need to put in your email address and then it should be pretty straight forward.”

Betty White sat down at the computer and typed in her street address.

The young man groaned again. He quickly set up a hotmail account, bwhite_69@hotmail.com. As the man hurried out, Betty White smiled and said, “you’re going to make a young woman very happy someday, you heartbreaker.” She watched him back out of the driveway to make sure he was OK. Then she watched the empty driveway for a few minutes, thinking about death and people she had loved along the way.

Betty White sat down once more at the computer. “Interests…hmmm…well, I like to play Mah Jongg.”

That reminded her, she needed to call Carol and set up next week’s Mah Jongg game. She closed the laptop, wrote “To: Facebook” on the front, placed a stamp in the corner, and put it in her mailbox. Hopefully Carol was still awake, although Betty knew it was risky to call after 5PM. Worst case scenario, she could leave her a message on her coal-powered answering machine.

Comments (65)
  1. I thought we decided that PT Barnum was Betty White’s publicist?

  2. He’s totally on meow-meow, which Betty White confuses with the sound her granddaughter says the kitty-cat makes.

  3. Can you write this into a script? This must be filmed for that last scene alone. For casting, let’s see if we can get a Betty White-type.

    • We’ll have to retool the young male character so Topher Grace can play him, instead of Oakleys and Bluetooth headsets he wears sharp suits and sunglasses still, but not jerky ones

      • dior homme suit and aviators! and instead of topher grace, make it a dior homme model because they really wear those super skinny suits best.

        i’d see that movie. probably twice.

  4. Betty’s next step to dominating all media is shameless self-promotion. Her new web series looks VERY promising.

  5. Betty White makes the best hash whities

    • I’m taking a mulligan on this too (even though it failed bad time #1 and this is seriously ill-advised)

      Betty White’s Hash Whities (TM)

      “Taste them again, for the first time… then jizz everywhere, at least once”

  6. a young man in a two-button Ed Hardy suit and wraparound Oakleys with the Bluetooth headset actually built in to the arms knocked on Betty White’s door

    I thought it a little strange to have a Bluetooth surgically implanted into your arm, because you’d still have to lift your arm to your ear and then you might as well use the regular phone. BUT then I got it.

  7. I heard of a video that could help Betty on her path to internet success. But she will have to settle for being called Tony or Anthony by her cyber friends.

  8. Betty White

  9. Gabe: I think you are forgetting Betty White was the bawdy Sue Anne on Mary Tyler Moore. I’m not saying she can remember the last time she’s been around jizz, but I doubt she’d be offended by a little language. She’s not a prude.

  10. You Can Make It Up: Steve Winwood Teaches English At the State Penitentiary

    There was an air of anxiety in the 1998 Dodge Stratus as Steve Winwood pulled up to the prison gates. This is a good thing I’m doing, he thought to himself. His mind raced with such an urgency that he almost didn’t notice the burly guard standing next to the vehicle. Steve Winwood managed to conceal his startlement and lowered the window.

    “Name?!” The guard was visibly upset, as he had been knocking on the window for nearly a minute. Steve Winwood was too busy checking the car’s owner’s manual for spelling errors to notice. “What’s your name, sir?”

    Steve Winwood basked in the idea that someone wanted to know who he was until it was obvious that his dismissal was imminent. “Steve… Winwood…”, he stretched out each syllable while moving his hand across an imaginary marquee. “I’m hear to teach English to these poor souls.”

    The guard, at the end of his rope, waved him through. Enough with this fucking guy, he thought.

    “LOST is a terrible show!”, Steve Winwood shouted as he made his way to the next check point.

    The scent of defeat stung as he arrived in the dilapidated classroom. He surveyed the area as if claiming it for his own. This was Steve Winwood’s world, and they were all just living in it. It was his time, his chance to shine. His chance to mock people for minor spelling mistakes and say how much LOST sucks. He’d never actually seen the show, but this opinion seemed to draw much attention, and Steve Winwood loved nothing more than attention.

    To be concluded…

  11. Betty White and Gabe were the original 2 members of Facebook. Did you know? Facebook consisted of cardboard, glue, and a big blank wall, where each would “post” on each other’s “wall” and make their own “updates.”

    Which was weird, because they were married and lived together, no duh.

  12. I for one want to congratulate Gabe on so effectively capturing the point of view of a woman old enough to be his daughter.

  13. I used to have a facebook account but had to kill it. Some people can’t respect boundaries

  14. Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see

  15. Was this the playing squirrel Betty caught a glimpse of?

  16. Or maybe she saw these guys:

  17. I kind of wish this fan fiction ended with Betty White charging $1000 worth of farmville equipment on her publicist’s black AmEx.

  18. I haven’t posted on here in a looooong time but I have my own theory on the betty white “thing”. I don’t think it’s ironic, so much is it a vain pride people have for liking an old person. Betty White is actually a really funny, talented actress but 14 year olds feel like they are cool for realizing it. It’s like when a you go away to college and you date your first black guy. And you like him because he’s cute and funny and is in the same english class as you but secretly, you also kind of like yourself more because you’re dating a black guy. (No racisto)

  19. Oh man, Barry White’s hotmail account is about to get a ton of spam.

  20. I now know how all the secret Gwyneth Paltrow fans on this site feel. :\

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