readme had always held that the Tartan is a thistle in its side, but one late night as it
was leaving the AB office and the Tartan was leaving its offices, readme realized just
how hot off the press the Tartan really is.
Damn, thought readme, I’d like to give her a print job.
readme could no longer lie to itself: it wanted some word play with the Tartan.
readme dreamed of touching its rack or giving the Tartan masthead.
Tormented by this new feeling, readme used the only way it new to get the Tartan’s
attention: it posted on its forum and asked for a dateline. Soon a one-time rivalry
turned into something beautiful: love.
But now, the Tartan’s saying it was all just a typo.
“readme seemed great online,” admitted the Tartan, “but when we met page-to-
page, more and more of readme’s issues kept coming out.” The Tartan broke up with
readme last week.
readme, heartbroken over the news, repeatedly called the Tartan and left twenty-
seven texts on its phone.
“We could have had a great shelf life together. It would have been a real page-
turner,” blubbered readme, crying itself soggy.
Was it all just a one night newsstand to the Tartan? And now it’s over, period?