Facebook Street
Facebook as a soap opera.

INT. LOUNGE. DAY.

WIFE:
(LOUD VOICE) I’m walking into the lounge. (PAUSE) I’m sitting down on the sofa. (PAUSE) I'm looking for the remote control.

HUSBAND:
For God’s sake, woman. Must you keep telling us about everything you do?

WIFE:
They’re my status reports, dear. I have to keep everybody informed about what I’m up to, no matter how trivial. If I don’t, Facebook Street will fall apart at the seams and cease to be.

HUSBAND:
Well, it’s damn annoying. Can’t you see I’m trying to concentrate?

WIFE:
You’ve been spying out of that window at your neighbours for hours, dear. What exactly are you doing?

HUSBAND:
I’ve been looking up some of my old schoolmates.

WIFE:
Oh right. How are they all doing?

HUSBAND:
Noticably better than me. Damn.

THE DOORBELL SOUNDS.

WIFE:
I wonder who that could be.

SHE OPENS THE DOOR.

BLOKE:
Hello, sexy. Remember me? Will you add me as your friend?

WIFE:
Oh, my God, it’s that drunk bloke from the pub last night who tried to put his tongue down my throat. Ignore! Ignore!

SHE SLAMS THE DOOR SHUT IN HIS FACE.

HUSBAND:
Can I ask you a question, dear?

WIFE:
Oh, good. A Facebook quiz.

HUSBAND:
Everybody I knew at school is now more successful than me. Shall I kill myself?

WIFE:
Yes.

HUSBAND:
Oh.

WIFE:
Only joking. LOL. (SPELT OUT)

HUSBAND:
Ohhh. LOL.

THE DOORBELL RINGS.

WIFE:
Who could it be this time?

SHE OPENS THE DOOR AGAIN.

MAN:
Hello. I’m in love with your daughter. Is she in?

WIFE:
No. Her status is showing “away” at the moment.

MAN:
Oh. Shame.

WIFE:
Aren’t you a bit old to be her boyfriend?

MAN:
No, not really. She thinks I’m twelve. I’m grooming her.

WIFE:
What?

MAN:
Only joking. LOL. Smilie with stickie out tongue.

WIFE:
Ohhhh. LOL. LOL.

MAN:
I’m actually her Facebook stalker.

VOICEOVER:
Will Hubby really kill himself? Did Wifey secretly like the drunk bloke's kiss? Will Facebook Stalker get a life? Nothing will be revealed in the next mind-numbingly boring instalment of Facebook Street.