#012 — Ep. 12 — The Big Game

Good morning, good afternoon, or good "it is technically a new day and I have not addressed yesterday." Welcome to The Daily Absurd. I'm Rohan Mistry. Somewhere, a fridge is judging you. And today — history. Because for the first time ever, we are bringing you live play-by-play coverage of the sport that unites us all: a person trying to leave their own house on time. Let's go to the field.

Field correspondent: Thanks, Rohan. I am courtside — which is to say, standing in a hallway near a shoe. And the tension is unbelievable. Our competitor said she needed to leave at nine. It is now nine-oh-four. She is holding her keys. She has been holding her keys for the entire warmup.

And there's the opening move — she's walking toward the door. Confident. Purposeful. This is a woman who is leaving.

Field correspondent: She's stopped.

She's stopped.

Field correspondent: Rohan, she has remembered something. We don't know what. She doesn't know what. But her face has changed. She's turning around. She's going back into the apartment. This is a classic play we call "The Pivot," and it is devastating every single time.

Let's see the replay. She had the keys. She had the door. She had, by every metric, won. And then a single thought entered — possibly "did I unplug the thing," possibly nothing at all, just a vibe — and she abandoned a winning position to go stand in a room and look at it.

Field correspondent: And she's now looking at the room. She's not doing anything in the room. She is simply in the room, being watched by the room. Reminder that the room, in this house, includes a smart fridge, and the fridge has an opinion.

Let's go to the fridge for analysis.

Field correspondent: Fridge, your read on this play?

The fridge says: "She opened me nine seconds ago. There is nothing new in me. She knows this. She will open me again in forty seconds hoping I have changed. I have not changed. Close the door."

Field correspondent: Brutal but fair from the fridge. Wait — Rohan, we've got movement. She's found her phone. She thought she'd lost her phone. She was holding her phone. She was using the phone's flashlight to look for the phone.

An all-time athletic achievement. Put that in the museum. Now — she's back at the door. Second attempt. The crowd — which is one cat, and the cat does not care — is on its feet. Or, the cat is lying down. The cat has never once been on its feet for this.

Field correspondent: She's got the keys. She's got the bag. She's reaching for the handle — and OH. She's checking if she has her keys. The keys that are in her hand. She has patted every pocket she owns to locate the keys currently making noise inside her fist.

We call this "The Full Audit." No athlete escapes it. You will search your body for the item that is in your other hand. It is human, it is eternal, and it costs you ninety crucial seconds every single time.

Field correspondent: And now a challenge flag on the field. A rival competitor has entered — it's the man who says "I'll just be five minutes." He is our reigning champion. He said "five minutes" at the top of the broadcast. It has been eleven.

Of course it's him. This man does not measure time in minutes. He measures it in "almost." He is always almost ready. He has been almost ready since 2015. Scientists have named a moth after him. The moth also will not leave.

Field correspondent: He's telling her he's "basically ready." Rohan, he is not wearing shoes. He is holding one shoe. He is describing the location of the other shoe like a hostage negotiator. "It's right here. It's right — it was right here."

And this is where the game turns, because the two competitors have now made eye contact and formed an alliance, which is the single most dangerous thing that can happen when leaving a house. Because now neither of them is responsible. Now they can each wait for the other. This is the doorway equivalent of two people saying "you hang up first."

Field correspondent: They're at the threshold. Both of them. One foot each out the door. This is it. This is the buzzer. And — a voice.

It's the subscription. Somewhere, the sentient database "Free 30-Day Trial" has awakened, and it would like to remind them that leaving the house is technically a premium feature, that they agreed to this, that they do not remember agreeing to this, and that they will be charged — as always — on a Tuesday, forever.

Field correspondent: They've paused to check their bank statements. Rohan, that's the end of the game. Nobody leaves after they open the banking app. That is a black hole. Time does not resume inside the banking app.

Field correspondent: Rohan, before the final whistle, we have to go to the instant replay booth, because there's a call under review.

Under review. Officials are examining the moment she said, and I quote, "okay, I'm heading out now." We are checking whether that counts as leaving. Ruling on the field was: leaving. But upon review, she said it while sitting down. She said "I'm heading out now" and then poured a second coffee. The booth is taking a long look at this.

Field correspondent: This could take a while. The replay official is the eleven-minute-goodbye man. He does not believe in endings. He is currently reviewing the footage frame by frame and narrating each frame with "okay but real quick."

And the ruling is in. After further review: the statement "I'm heading out now" is a ceremonial statement, like a national anthem. It is performed before leaving. It has no legal relationship to leaving. Everyone must stand for it, and then nothing happens. The call on the field is overturned. She is, in fact, still here. She has always been here.

Field correspondent: The stadium erupts — the cat has changed positions. That's the biggest reaction we've seen all day.

Final score: the House, one. The People, zero. It is the House's undefeated season. It has never lost. The door remains theoretical.

Field correspondent: Back to you in the studio, Rohan, where I assume you are also, somehow, not fully dressed.

I am wearing one sock, and it is the correct amount, and I will not be taking questions. That's our game. If you enjoyed today's coverage of two adults losing to a doorway, follow the show, and come back tomorrow, when we cover the playoffs — a group of four friends attempting to decide where to eat. No one has ever won that one either. I'm Rohan Mistry. The fridge would like to say something before we go.

Field correspondent: The fridge says: "Close the door."

Close the door.