Sorry for missing another week; here is your story as requested.
by Dan Schwartz
I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions. In order to live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions.
Here's what I did:
I took a telephone, I put it in my hand. I pressed the buttons until it made the sounds I liked. I tried to make songs, but they were mostly atonal and boring.
I tried all the seven letter words I could think of: 1-800-PROBLEMS, 1-800-EARACHE, 1-800-CUPCAKE.
If I got a business I said, "I would like to buy several products."
If I got a person in their home, I had to think very fast. I would say, "I am on fire!" or "My house is gone!" or "I have been poisoned!"
And they'd say, "Are you sure?"
Or, "Who is this?"
Or hang up.
I never got to talk to anybody more than that. Sometimes I'd hang up. Sometimes I couldn't think of anything good enough to say.
Accidentally, I called someone I knew. I showed up on their caller ID. "Why are you calling me?" he said. "Why are you doing this?"
That night, while I was somewhere else, he broke into my house and smashed all my telephones with a croquet mallet.
Now I don't talk to anyone.