The Wanakalagooga Wifi Experience

Once a year we traveled to the same camping spot. It was a place called Camp Wanakalagooga. Wide open space in the middle of nowhere. I liked it there, I felt like I belonged there, in nature...with the bugs and the snakes.

One year, I finally thought to myself, “Why do I come here just to camp? If I feel at home out here, perhaps it is my home, and maybe I should move out here.” The thought made me feel so warm inside, I knew it simply had to be the right choice.

But I had to make sure I had everything. The tent I was using now wouldn't be enough of a good permanent shelter. I needed the spring of life for all modern-born, civilized beings: Wifi. The router company had already refused my request to build an underground router so I had to

utilize my phone’s personal hotspot in the meantime, which was quite convenient. After maybe 23 minutes of watching videos of stupid people while holding my side, my phone vibrated on my lap and a notification popped up. I raised the phone up to my face. 2% battery life. Great.

I swiped to preview the notification, inadvertently calling the ambitious battery sensor's bluff. The screen briefly displayed it's backlit, near-death, pretend black but then quickly lapsed into proper, unlit, fuck you black. The magical device was now just an electronic corpse.

Without warning the phone burst into flame and fell to the floor. Instinctively I grabbed my burnt hand with the other. I heard of batteries exploding, but I would have expected it to be charging. From the hallway I heard…

the sound of my house phone ringing. I was sure I unplugged it years ago. I sprinted into the living room and sure enough, the phone was ringing.... unplugged. “How could this be?” I said to myself. “Am I hallucinating again?” My burnt hand then began to swell and throb.

I lifted the receiver. “It’s all a lie,” a voice said. There line went dead.