iNoise

“My idea was absolutely genius!” screamed the man with the bowler hat and a massive mustache that looked freshly coiled. He was in the middle of a heated debate with an old lady named Margrethe. She was telling him curtly that there was no money left, and he was getting rather upset.

“Hopi, you surely are mistaken. There is no need to be so angry, especially with your heart condition. Please calm down. Your idea was quite smart; however, there is just no money in the account. I hope you can understand.”

“I don’t understand! There were millions just last month!”

“Hopi. There were not. You have just gotten to be quite old and can no longer remember that you spent all the money years ago.” Margrethe subtly pressed an intercom on her desk to call the attendants. Hopi was flabbergasted by hearing this, and seeing the way she was so relaxed, merely seated and handling his reaction was just too much.

“But, but, but…no! This is a scheme! You took my money! You took my money… yo—”

His heart had finally had enough. His chest expanded, cheeks darkened, and promptly, semi-gracefully, he collapsed to the floor. Margrethe, rather shocked, quickly jumped up from her chair just as the attendants she had called earlier burst through the door.

“Quick! His heart must have given out!”

The attendants rushed to Hopi, checking his pulse and monitoring his chest for signs of breathing. Nothing. The head nurse gave a quick assessment.

“We need to give him CPR. He’s stopped breathing! Somebody call 911.”

The man gave thirty compressions, and as he went to give the two breaths, he suddenly stopped. The beautiful mustache was blocking Hopi’s mouth, and the nurse was unable to give the necessary breaths required for his survival. After several minutes of trying to figure out what to do, amid Margrethe’s screaming, Hopi turning blue, and the nurses unable to get past the mustache, one of the attendants had an idea.

“Why don’t we stash the ’stache?”

“Great idea, Lindsay!”

Quickly, Lindsay ran to grab scissors so that they might slice off the giant mass of hair blocking his mouth. Amidst the chaos, the head attendant suddenly grew very quiet. Then Margrethe looking on in shock, also fell silent.

Just as the attendant came running back with the scissors (something you should never do, by the way), the head attendant solemnly announced to the room, “Mr. Hopi is no longer with us.”

Margrethe screamed.

Ten years prior:

“I have a great business idea,” said a young Mr. Hopi to a man by the name of Zuni.

“Pray tell, my good man.”

“Well, you see, what if we make a car–”

“A car?” interrupted Mr. Zuni.

“Yes! A car that is the highest technology of this day and age. But with a twist…”

“A twist?” remarked Mr. Zuni.

“YES!” snapped Mr. Hopi, getting rather flustered, he rapidly pet his baby mustache. “A car that only moves when the driver and passengers are completely silent. This would cut down on all the annoyance that drivers face on a daily basis, and people would pay more attention to the roads. Everything would be much safer in the long run.”

“Hmmm. Do you really think people will like that? I mean, people like to listen to music, after all.”

Mr. Hopi thought for a minute.

“Well, I suppose you do have a point,” he muttered. “Maybe each driver could listen to music for a certain amount of time whenever they practice good driving skills…”

“Like a credit score?” Zuni said, interested, beginning to pet his nonexistent mustache as he pondered the idea.

“Precisely! Like a credit score,” Hopi said, satisfied. “Well, can you do it?”

Zuni looked around the room. They were in Hopi’s basement man cave. He could hear the clatter of Mrs. Hopi baking in the kitchen. He then looked at the mini fridge Hopi had placed in the corner of the room, right next to the couch where the two men sat across from each other, five feet apart. Zuni thought about the ways the mini fridge had so greatly disrupted the world of fridgery. He thought about the ways this new idea could do much of the same.

Finally, he looked at Hopi. The man gripped the handles of his baby mustache violently, his eyes pleading. His face bore much age and wrinkles that weren’t there a few years prior. If such a man as Hopi had such faith in this idea, it must be good, Zuni thought.

“Very well. I can do it.”

“THANK YOU!” Hopi jumped up, shaking Zuni’s hand violently.

“Why, quite dandy, my good man. Yes, this is very good. Partners, I dare say—partners!”

“No, good man,” responded Zuni. “Brothers.”

The men shook hands, both with tears running down their cheeks, before finishing their business talk over a game of Monopoly.

Two years later:

“Ladies and gentlemen! Do I have a new product that you are all just going to absolutely DIE for, here at QVBC, we only have the newest and brightest inventions. We showcase only the inventions that truly shatter the world of products, and I do believe the one we have today might just be the best of them all!”

This was all said by a young and excited woman named Margrethe. She had just started her new job as the announcer for QVBC and was exuberant about beginning her career with a revolutionary pitch. Today was her first interview, and she was determined not to make it a flop.

“Let me introduce to you the future of car technology: iNoise!” The live audience erupted in applause and screams. Margrethe smiled. “This technology is the best tech we see today. iNoise is a chip no bigger than a child. This chip can be easily clipped to any roof in any car and completely rewire the system, taking control of your car so you don’t have to.”

She paused for emphasis as her assistant spoke in her earpiece.

“Ah, yes, well, I don’t want to describe everything for you. I’ve just been alerted that we have two very special guests with us today. Please allow me to introduce the genius inventors of iNoise: Mr. Hopi and Mr. Zuni.”

The audience absolutely lost it. Women fainted, men froze in awe, monkeys screamed and pregnant women gave birth. Mr. Hopi and Zuni walked out in matching purple suits, waving and bowing to their fans. Margrethe was informed in her earpiece that eight billion people had tuned in.

This is my break, she thought. Don’t screw this up, Marg!

“Boys, boys—welcome. It’s an absolute honor to have you on the show!”

A woman screamed and fainted in the background.

“Thank you, my dear, but truly it is our honor,” Hopi said, while Zuni nervously pulled at his collar (he was never very good at public relations; in fact, the last time he was on TV, it was because he fell into a pond).

“Please have a seat, gentlemen.” They sat and partook of the water on the table between them.

“Why don’t we start by talking about this invention of yours?

Perhaps you can explain some of the benefits of iNoise and what this means for the future.” The last word she said with a dramatic whisper.

“Yes, yes, quite right,” Hopi began as the studio filled with shushing. “iNoise is a modern piece of innovative technology that clips to your transportation vehicle and will not allow it to move unless the passengers and driver are completely silent. Mr. Zuni, why don’t you describe the benefits?”

“Certainly-ly-ly,” stuttered Zuni. “iNoise removes the problems of backseat driving, nagging passengers, and poor music taste. It also eliminates the dangers of driving, so much so that 98% of all accidents have been avoided since its launch. This is due to the technology of intergalactic space cats and the special juice we put,”

“Thank you, Mr. Zuni,” Margrethe interrupted.

“I know you’re both very busy men. Thank you for giving us a truly amazing experience today.”

Hopi and Zuni shook Margrethe’s hand and were ushered to their private jet (also under iNoise technology) to head toward a UN hearing to receive their second Nobel Prize. Margrethe ended her show with photos of iNoise in action, personal testimonials, and a reminder to purchase iNoise everywhere things are sold for the low, low price of $100,000.

She was satisfied. She was going to be rich.

Five years later, two years before the present day:

Two men spoke in a bar over drinks while watching the game.

“I can’t believe iNoise was completely eradicated because Zuni wanted to make iSilent, a product that caused car crashes if passengers did talk,” said the first guy.

“I know, dude. And who would’ve thought Margrethe and Zuni would get divorced because she always loved Hopi? Or that Hopi would go insane from the silence and be put away?”

“IDK, man. The world of the rich and famous is made weird.”

“Fr. A car that only drives when it’s silent, that’s a terrible idea.”

They chuckled as they each chugged seventeen shots of fermented gasoline.

Present Day:

Headline: Funeral of Mr. Hopi | Death by Mustache. Caretaker Margrethe Blames Herself, stating: “It’s all my fault, I told him to keep the ’stache!”

Funeral to take place today. Tune in to your local TV.

Funeral music.

“Wow, this old man finally gets a break, eh?” says the President of Argentina to Mr. Zuni.

“Yes. He had a great invention. It’s truly a shame he had to go in such an embarrassing way,” Zuni responds through tears.

“You wanna know what’s truly funny about this?”

“What?! Nothing is funny about the death of my partner… I mean my brother.”

“Well, my six-year-old son told me the other day he didn’t know what iNoise was,” the President laughed. “You know what I told him?”

“What?” Zuni asked.

“I said Hopi invented a car that only moves when the driver is silent. My son was confused, so I simply said: “well, it goes without saying.”