When you occasionally have a really bad
day and you just need to take it out on
someone, don’t take it out on someone
you know, take it out on someone you
don’t know.
I was sitting in my front room when I
remembered a phone call I’d forgotten to
make. I found the number and dialed it. A
man answered.
I politely said, ‘Hello, this is David. Could I
please speak with Robyn?’
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my
ear ‘Get the right number!’ and the phone
was slammed down on me.
I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so
rude. When I tracked down Robyn’s
correct number to call her, I found that I
had accidentally transposed the last two
digits.
After hanging up with her, I decided to
call the ‘wrong’ number again.
When the same guy answered the phone,
I yelled ‘You’re an asshole!’ and hung up. I
wrote his number down with the word
‘asshole’ next to it, and put it in my cell
phone.
Every couple of weeks, when I was paying
bills or had a really bad day, I’d call him
up and yell, ‘You’re an asshole!’
It always cheered me right up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought
my therapeutic ‘asshole calling’ would
have to stop.
So, I called his number and said, ‘Hi, this
is John Smith from Verizon. I’m calling to
see if you’re familiar with our Caller ID
Program?’
He yelled ‘NO!’ and slammed down the
phone.
I quickly called him back and said, ‘That’s
because you’re an asshole!’
One day I was at the store, getting ready
to pull into a parking spot.
Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and
pulled into the spot I had patiently waited
for. I hit the horn and yelled that I’d been
waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored
me. I noticed a ‘For Sale’ sign in his back
window which included his phone
number, so I wrote down the number.
A couple of days later, right after calling
the first asshole (I had his number on
speed dial) I thought that I’d better call
the BMW asshole, too. I said, ‘Is this the
man with the black BMW for sale?’
‘Yes, it is’, he said.
‘Can you tell me where I can see it?’ I
asked.
‘Yes, I live at 34 Mowbray Drive, in Eagle
River. It’s a yellow house, and the car’s
parked right out in front.’
‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
‘My name is Don Hansen,’ he said.
‘When’s a good time to catch you, Don?’
‘I’m home every evening after five.’
‘Listen, Don, can I tell you something?’
‘Yes?’
‘Don, you’re an asshole!’ Then I hung up.
Now, when I had a particularly bad day, I
had two assholes to call.
Then I came up with an idea. I called
Asshole #1.
‘Hello.’
‘You’re an asshole!’ (but I didn’t hang up)
‘Are you still there?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ I said.
‘Stop calling me!’, he screamed.
‘Make me,’ I said.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘My name is Don Hansen.’
‘Yeah? Where do you live?’
‘I live at 34 Mowbray Drive, Eagle River, a
yellow house, with my black Beamer
parked in front, asshole.’
He said, ‘I’m coming over right now, Don.
And you had better start saying your
prayers.’
I said, ‘Yeah, like I’m really scared,
asshole,’ and hung up.
Then I called Asshole #2. ‘Hello?’ he said.
‘Hello, asshole,’ I said.
He yelled, ‘If I ever find out who you
are…’
‘You’ll what?’ I said!
‘I’ll kick your ass,’ he exclaimed.
I answered, ‘Well, asshole, here’s your
chance. I’m coming over right now.’
Then I hung up and immediately called
the police, saying that I lived at 34
Mowbray Drive, Eagle River, and that I
was on my way over there to kill my gay
lover.
Then I called Channel 9 News about the
gang war going down in Mowbray Drive,
Eagle River.
I quickly got into my car and headed over
to Mowbray Drive.
I got there just in time to watch two
assholes beating the crap out of each
other in front of six cop cars, an
overhead police helicopter and a news
crew.
No comments:
Post a Comment