Garfield, May 19, 2010.
Jon stands, his back haughtily to Garfield. Jon's phone vibrates uncontrollably. His beady eyes focused on his task. Garfield sits nearby, waiting, his purpose shrouded in glum anticipation of the next exchange of fire in their ongoing domestic dispute.
Jon Speaks: THIS TEXTING STUFF IS HARD.
Garfield does not react outwardly. He does not betray his hurt that Jon would choose him, a cat without a phone, to vent his frustrations at modern life in general, and at "This texting stuff" in particular.
Jon, ostensibly speaking to Garfield, but maintaining his air of superiority by doing so with his back to him, continues: "I THINK MY THUMBS ARE TOO FAT."
Garfield, now stung on a very personal level, again mutes his reaction, the urge to murder Jon where he stands. Garfield is a cat. He has no thumbs, and Jon, a great ape, lords his thumb-having superiority over Garfield yet again.
Jon, a needler to the last, knowing full well that Garfield has never nor can ever possess either a phone or a thumb, asks: HOW DO YOU TONE YOUR THUMBS?
Jon finally turns and acknowledges Garfield's presence, giving him the frustrated look which he had previously bestowed upon the difficult piece of machinery, a looks which says, "Why, you bizarre piece of garbage, why do you vex me so by your mere presence?" The subtext of the look is not lost on Garfield.
Garfield is finally pushed over his limit. With a vicious grin, he awkwardly holds aloft a remote control, a gift from the Gods of Hammerspace, and declares: CHANNEL CHANGER CRUNCHES, MY MAN.
With this bizarre but biting exchange, we leave our sad tableau of piteous one-upsmanship, with the assumption that Jon will spend the next several days trying to figure out what a Channel Changer Crunch might be, much less how Garfield professes to do them without thumbs. He may, we hope, question his desire for slender thumbs, but this level of personal growth, for one as shallowly cruel as Jon, seems unlikely.