One Whipped Mother

But Then Again, the Universe, She is Kind Sometimes....

So I'm all gloom and doom after my last post, just depressed as hell, and then the phone rings. I ignore it, continue weeping into my huge bowl of chocolate almond ice cream. sigh, oh, sigh....weeeeeep...eat...sigh...snort (What a big old sad pig sounds like.) Phone keeps ringing, and it's making my curly little tail twitch, so I hoof it on downstairs to answer it, but before I can, Mr. Butler takes it upon his tiny phlumpy self to do the honors.

"Hi, what's your name?" he shrieks in his sweet girly voice.

Silence

Silence

Silence

I decide that it's time to rescue whomever may be on the line.

"Give me the phone, Brandon." I say, adding, "It may be the police cops." That's the only way he will relinquish the phone without a tantrum, you see. We wouldn't want to incur the wrath of the police cops, no way, uh uh.

"Hello?" I say, figuring that the unfortunate caller lost patience and hung up.

"Is Larry Young available?"

"No, may I take a message?"

"When will he be available, ma'am?"

Ah, a telemarketer. They never leave contact information, only the residue of their annoying gnat-like auras. I'm usually quite cordial to telemarketers as I realize they have bills to pay just like the rest of us, but sometimes...Well, sometimes I fucking want to rip their hearts from their thoraxes.

"I don't know. Sorry. He, like, works."

"Is this Mrs. Young?" (Said in hopeful, annoying, gnat-like tone.)

"One moment, please."

I cover the mouthpiece and whisper to Brandon, "It's not the police cops -- it's Dora the Explorer!" then hand him the phone.

I go back upstairs and continue eating my ice cream, and instead of weeping into the bowl, I grunt with glee till the very last spoonful.

posted by Ms. Lori @ 4:19 PM