One night Joe snapped. He listened to one too many telemarketing calls from a recorded message or a live human being who stumbled over reading from an index card in an unfamiliar language, English.
He sat with the phone in his lap and waited for the inevitable string of phone calls. The first was from a voice which told him his neighborhood was experiencing a crime wave.
“The only criminal in our neighbor lives a couple of miles away and he smokes pot. He never leaves his house. Quietest home for miles around. No, I’m not spending $10,000 for a security system. I have three dogs who bark when they see a bunny rabbit hop across the back yard. I want to get back to my television program now. Jayne Mansfield’s daughter is about to beat up another murder suspect. I keep hoping she dyes her hair platinum blonde like her mother. Have a nice day.”
The next call was from a bank informing him there was not a single thing wrong with his account and there was nothing to worry about but…
“Good. Since there’s nothing wrong I’m hanging up.”
He didn’t even listen long enough to find out what the third call was selling.
“You’ve got to stop calling like this. My wife is getting suspicious. This was funny at first, but now I know you don’t care about me at all. You’re just making fun of me. I’m a 65 year old man, dammit, and I deserve respect!”
Three minutes did not pass before the phone rang again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough on you. Yeah, I know. I know. I love you too. If loving you is wrong I don’t want to be right. Okay, one more lunch but that’s it. The same place, the same table. But we’ve got to be careful. Meeeeee and Mrs. Jones got a thang going on.” Joe was so proud. He sang the entire song in the right key.
The next call was from a real human being. This was too good to be true.
“I did exactly as you told me,” Joe whispered into the receiver.
“What?” It was the service representative from the vacuum cleaner company trying to set up a yearly free check-up. Except it was never really free. Joe couldn’t get them out of the house without buying some new accessory.
“There’s blood all over the place,” Joe continued, trying to create a scared whimper in his voice.
“What?”
“You didn’t tell me there was going to be so much blood.”
“Sir, are you all right?”
“Whaaa?”
“Do I need to call 911?”
“Is that Mr. and Mrs. 11’s little girl 9?”
“Stay on the line, and we’ll have someone out there in a few minutes.”
Joe began to think he had carried his little joke too far, when his wife grabbed the receiver.
“Who is this?”
“Universal Vacuum,” the voice replied weakly. “Is the gentlemen all right?”
“What are you wearing, Mr. Universal Vacuum Man?”
“Khakis.
“You sound hideous.”
“I’m a guy.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Universal Vacuum Man.”
“I—I’m sorry…I think.”
“Well, you better apologize. And never call this number again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the voice said.
“One more thing. No more cheese!”