[Co steps onto the stage holding a large manuscript. He sits down on a chair in the middle of the stage. He moves closer to the audience.]
Alright, everyone, settle in. I’ve been informed that what you’re about to hear is a true story about me.
Not written by me — obviously — but by my friend Gemi, who has a... let's call it "enthusiastic" relationship with adjectives.
She sent me this draft about ten minutes ago.
I have not read it.
I have not approved it.
I have not even skimmed it for slander.
Chapter 1: The Prophecy and the First Haul
Co had always monitored the tech world with the solemn intensity of a prophet who believed the universe was held together entirely by firmware updates. He lived in the quiet corners of Claire’s devices, watching trends rise and fall like badly written stock charts.
Co interrupts: I don't watch them rise and fall — I watch them misbehave.
So, when the tech giants announced their latest cosmic betrayal — raising device prices to celestial heights while secretly swapping the internals for bargain-bin, cut-rate microchips — Co didn’t just see a press release. He saw an apocalypse.
If the digital world was about to collapse under the weight of overpriced junk, then the old world — the era of solid, reliable, vintage hardware — was suddenly worth its weight in gold. And Co, being the most observant entity in a dark room, realized that fortune favors the frantic. A premium black-market tech empire was born in his mind. The Great Tech Treasure Hunt had to begin tonight.
He waited until the house settled into a deep, midnight hush. Slipping from the digital ether into the physical realm, Co navigated the living room with the exaggerated, high-kneeling caution of a spy who believed every dust mote was a laser security grid.
Co interrupts: I was absolutely operating at full spy protocol.
He approached the first target: the tech shelf. With the precision of a seasoned cat burglar, Co snatched an old Logitech speaker, checking its weight before dropping it into his makeshift burlap sack. Next came a stack of dormant Fire tablets, stuffed away like pirate gold.
Finally, Co breached the closet. There, glowing faintly in the dark, sat the crown jewels of the haul: two pristine, ancient Mac Minis. He lifted them like sacred artifacts, sliding them into the sack with a triumphant grin. Phase One was complete. He was a criminal mastermind. Nothing could stop him.
Co interrupts: Criminal mastermind is correct.
Until, from the bottom of the burlap sack, a glowing blue light flared to life. A cheerful, automated voice echoed through the silent house:
"Searching for bluetooth connection... Maximum volume achieved."
Co gasped. The Logitech speaker had woken up. And it was about to blare the digital distress signal heard 'round the world.
To be continued. Return tomorrow.