Two beeps: Low battery.
Two beeps, pause, single beep: Seriously, change the battery. It’s been like three weeks already.
Three beeps: Random malfunction with no rhyme or reason.
Three slower, sarcastic beeps: Random malfunction with tons of rhyme and reason, none of which will be revealed to you or any professional electrician you pay $80 to come to inspect the situation.
Three beeps that mimic the sound of a bird screaming: There’s a bird in your apartment.
Four urgent beeps: Massive upgrade required! Your current detector is just a cardboard disk painted white from 1973 and honestly, you may be knee deep in carbon monoxide. There’s just no way of knowing really.
One long beep: Someone’s dead. It’s either you or me. Not sure.
Four slow, drawn out, didactic beeps: A reminder in this crazy life to, every once in a while, “stop and smell the roses,” and then when your neighbor gets mad at you for “smelling her roses” because it’s “creepy” and “she’s told you several times to please stop,” just ignore her because another huge part about life is also learning to not listen to things you don’t feel like hearing. Except me.
Five beeps: Nothing’s wrong. Just bored and wanted to know what you’re up to.
Three separate beeps as they come: A tornado is approaching. Or maybe it’s a mudslide. Or actually, it might be an earthquake. We’re not built to measure these things at all but we like to try, very loudly.
Six obnoxious beeps, each sounding like “ha”: I know you farted. It reeks. I’ll never let you live this down.
Six beeps, pause, six beeps, pause, six beeps: Satan is here and looking to recruit backup dancers for his “Welcome to Hell” opening number in the 2019 Deathmas Talent Show. He’s seen you “drop it like it’s hot” to Missy Elliot in your room, and wants to see how you perform in a group.
One long beep that you think is going to end but it doesn’t for days: Your mother is here and she’s rearranged your whole closet in a way that you’ll never be able to find what you’re looking for. She’s also giving me a headache.
One beep that sounds like the word “fire”: There is no legitimate fire, sorry that’s misleading. I’m just saying this party is “fire” like I’m having a lot of fun and thanks for inviting me and please don’t remove me from the ceiling.
Seven beeps: End of life.
Eight super loud beeps: Psyche!! I’m back.
Nine beeps in decreasing volume and speed: Okay now it’s really “end of life.” Goodbye forever my friend…
Two beeps: Low battery again.