Sunday, July 1, 2007

Ring Three Times

I have a buddy who rings my phone three times and then hangs up before it goes to the machine.

I know exactly who this person is, once my phone rings three times and stops before it goes to the machine, because nobody else I know on this planet does that "ring three times and hang up before it goes to the machine" thing.

Not even my totally insane-o stalker ex-girlfriend does that.

Naw, she's got two modes of operation, she either waits until I answer the phone and then she hangs up, or she fills my answering machine with that fake-ass country music that city-people listen to (which I've always hated, which just proves how insane she is).

Anyways, this buddy of mine rings my phone three times, and then he hangs up.

But I wonder if he realizes that I have to practically jump out of my chair on the first ring and run to the phone in order to pick it up before the answering machine gets it.

And who cares if the answering machine gets it anyways?

Do you think I'm the kinda guy that'd actually be foolish enough to save those half-completed answering messages on there so that the top secret government death-ray spy satellites can pick them up or something?

Well isn't it some kinda paranoia thingie?


Well what the fuck are you making me jump out of my chair for, then?

Are you trying to train me to pick up the phone before it rings three times?

'Cause man, I don't wanna talk to all these guys that want money for the Annual Police Cancer Kid Country Line Dancing Halloween Party or whatever they're selling when it turns out it wasn't you calling me.

Let alone my old depressing-ass stalker or something, shit man, that junk leaves me in the same mood as you'd be in if you got a phone call from your dead pet dog.

And I know it ain't Critter or the Real Life Dwarf or Linst or any of them guys, 'cause they're all con artists and carnies and shit, guys that had telemarketing jobs and sold used cars and all that when they were kids, they'd wouldn't pass up the chance to have the sound of their own deep and melodious over-the-top voice-stylings recorded by some godawful hideous piece of Orwellian machinery.

And even my mom, who is a technology-hating wood elf that lives in a mushroom crawling with small furry animals, will suffer the stupid thing just 'cause she knows I'll pick up if I'm around.

Well, its just a little strange, is all I'm saying.

Yah, about as strange as the way I refuse to pick up the phone until it goes to the answering machine heh.

Oh hey, I tried calling you once, man.

Yah, I called you twice, left a couple messages on yer stupid little GI Joe Communications Officer Handset, too.

Yah, you never called back.

Yah, long time ago.

So that's that, man, I lost yer number for the nine millionth time when that didn't work heh.

Yah, it got shuffled off somewhere.

Yah, well, I gotta call and ask my mom (which is still the only phone number I can remember) for my brother's phone number every single time I wanna call him, so its not like my number-losing thing is personal.

Yah, you gotta remember that I was a systems-engineer programming telecom guy for a long time, man, my thing with passwords and numbers and stuff is horrible, my head is full of numbers swirling around in there like a cloud of angry bees.

And I never wanted to be a guy like that anyways, I'm always gonna be a hippy-love-child, and much more of a wood-elf type guy at heart, I don't like trapper-keepers and scribbling important little notes in schedule-thingies and calculators and civilization and all that shit.

Yah, its not that I don't need that junk to feel like I matter, its that I don't need to feel like I matter at all heh.

Well, whatever, naw, its cool, you can just keep doing that "ring three times and hang up before the answering machine picks up" thing you do, that's fine.

Naw I'm serious, just keep doing it the way you do it, that's fine, that's just your way of doing things, who am I to tell ya different, y'know?

Yah, sure, we all got weird little shit like that.

But you know what would be a great addition to yer thing?

If you rang three times, hung up, and then called me again so I'd have a chance to get out of my chair and pick the damn phone up on the second time.

Yah, see, that'd be like our secret code, so the mind-ray satellites or whatever yer worried about can't figure it out and stuff.

Of course, if I don't pick it up the second time, then you know they got to me or something, and you should probably burn all yer documents.

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