the number 5 key.

2 a.m, today. I woke up just to find out that my phone’s number 5 key stopped working. Of all keys, it really has to be number 5. And the mystical thing about it is that before I accidentally fell asleep, all of my keys were perfectly working.

What happened? I. Don’t. Know. How do you feel? Pretty. Fucked. Up. How can I help? Give. Me. Money.

When my mom woke up, I told her the bad news. I said, “Ma, press 5.” And she said, “Ano? Meron naman ah.” Then I said, “’Wag mo kasi diinan!” And she went, “Eh syempre kailangan yun!” Then she pressed every key as hard as she can, and said, “Okay na yan. At least, meron.” Obviously, she missed the point.

Yes, number 5 will work if you, like, pound it with your finger. But if this incident happened to her, I bet she’ll nag everybody to swap phones with her. Or bring it to some repair shop as soon as she can. But for me, well, “at least, meron.”

I need money. I want to buy a new one. It doesn’t have to be packed with all of the fancy features. I just need a phone that can create and send SMS and MMS, a phone that rings, and a phone that has a decent camera (for you know, camwhoring). Or, I can just bring it to the nearest repair shop and get it fixed. But either way, I need money.

My phone is about four years old. And it was begging to be replaced months ago. Case in point: When I receive messages, my phone will never make a sound. Activate vibrate, and it won’t. But it rings for phone calls. Choosy? It needs to retire. I want it to retire.

Imagine, without the number 5 key, I won’t be able to send the almost classic reply to all messages: the infamous “k”. When a contact says, “I’ll meet you in McDo.” You reply, “K.” When your mom says, “I left my phone charging. Unplug it before you leave.” You reply, “K.” And when your lover says, “It’s not you, it’s me.” You say, “K.”

Be a Good Samaritan. Let’s make this world a better place. Donate, contribute to Give Marc a New Phone Program. K? K, thanks.