Me Too, Me Too, what are you saying Liz, your not making sense, Me Too, what’s wrong with you, we are all hungry, give us this me too rubbish. The weathered woman looks up at the overhead satellite, keeping on eye on them, while they starve to death, Me Too, hunger, who isn’t. Her Friend is stirring the mash they call food, a ladle in one hand, a mobile phone in the other, a modern smart one. She is reading about the Me Too revolution going on, she wonders if it’s a game show, many famous people are involved. Me Too she shouts, her friend sitting in the shade turns around, will you give up this Me Too rubbish or we will send you to the asylum. At least they will feed me there she replies, with a laugh.
The old lady gets up, wonders over to her friend, what is this Me Too business. Sitting in the middle of the desert, they are reading all about the new social media thing, what is it about, they don’t understand it. They press the right button, they go to an information section and donations, the younger one reads, she nods, Me Too she says, who hasn’t suffered in this world.
Suffering says the old woman, I haven’t not known it, amen, Me Too.