I have mentioned before that I have a really hard time taking care of small, delicate things. I have a propensity to drop them, and in my younger, more alcohol-infused days I had a propensity to throw them at anyone who irritated the hell out of me. Or anyone that was sitting where I wanted to sit. Or wearing a similar outfit to mine. But mostly, I just tend to epically drop things (epically = at least two stories of free fall, preferably onto hardwood or concrete)
Because I annihilate cell phones so often I have become accustomed to answering un-stored numbers, because *most* of the time it's a friend. Every now and then I get a gorgeous gem of dysfunctional dialogue that is worth sharing. I present to you Episode 1 of "Adventures in Un-stored Phone Numbers"
All sentences in italics represent my internal monologue and should be read as such. Even this one.
Episode 1, "Lisa unintentionally oversteps her bounds"
INT. ANGELA'S APT - EARLY AFTERNOON. I am sitting at my writing desk. I have been working on a piece about the passing of my dog and have not spoken to another human being in at least 12 hours. I am desperate for a break from my self-imposed isolation and just as I decide to pack up my computer and head to a bar to write, my cell phone rings.
Thank you, Universe! I see the unfamiliar number and click "answer" but do not have a chance to say hello before a woman with a very thick southern drawl says...
WOMAN:
You didn't do nothin' wrong.
ME:
Excuse me?
WOMAN:
I'd just rather you not get into the middle of this.
ME:
I'm sorry, who is this?
WOMAN:
Lisa, really, it's just gonna be best for all of us if you just stay out of it. (BEAT) Wait, did I dial the wrong number?
ME: I'm betting so, but please, go on. I wanna know what Lisa did.
WOMAN:
Well Hell's Belle's! *click*
ME:
Hello?
Who the fuck says "Hell's Belle's"? I thought that was only in terrible movies about the South. Oh, and probably Gone with the Wind. I should really watch that. I wonder if she'd answer if I called back...
Because I annihilate cell phones so often I have become accustomed to answering un-stored numbers, because *most* of the time it's a friend. Every now and then I get a gorgeous gem of dysfunctional dialogue that is worth sharing. I present to you Episode 1 of "Adventures in Un-stored Phone Numbers"
All sentences in italics represent my internal monologue and should be read as such. Even this one.
Episode 1, "Lisa unintentionally oversteps her bounds"
INT. ANGELA'S APT - EARLY AFTERNOON. I am sitting at my writing desk. I have been working on a piece about the passing of my dog and have not spoken to another human being in at least 12 hours. I am desperate for a break from my self-imposed isolation and just as I decide to pack up my computer and head to a bar to write, my cell phone rings.
Thank you, Universe! I see the unfamiliar number and click "answer" but do not have a chance to say hello before a woman with a very thick southern drawl says...
WOMAN:
You didn't do nothin' wrong.
ME:
Excuse me?
WOMAN:
I'd just rather you not get into the middle of this.
ME:
I'm sorry, who is this?
WOMAN:
Lisa, really, it's just gonna be best for all of us if you just stay out of it. (BEAT) Wait, did I dial the wrong number?
ME: I'm betting so, but please, go on. I wanna know what Lisa did.
WOMAN:
Well Hell's Belle's! *click*
ME:
Hello?
Who the fuck says "Hell's Belle's"? I thought that was only in terrible movies about the South. Oh, and probably Gone with the Wind. I should really watch that. I wonder if she'd answer if I called back...
Comments