If you call, I'll bleeping kill you...

I had a message on my voice mail the other day that went exactly like this:

“Bob, this is Bill. Hey. I.. am calling you ‘cause uh ah I’m like really run down and I’m going home to take a nap. And if you CALL, I’ll fucking kill you. All right? Because you have knack for doing that. All right. I’ll talk to you later. Bye Bye.”

I took that as a challenge. I had no intention on calling him at all this morning, but since he called and told me not to, I decided to call him anyway. The message was sent at 9:23 am. When I heard the message it was only 9:40. I figured I could still get in touch with him before he took his name. So of course I called.

The phone rings at his house number.

Audrey answers, “Hello?”

I immediately felt bad because I didn’t know she was home, so I quickly asked, “Is Bill there?”

“I’m sorry. He’s taking a nap.”

“Oh. Sorry,” I quickly say. “I’ll try him later. Sorry.”

Later, I get the expected call from Bill at about 11:00 am.

“Why in the fuck did you call me?”

“Well, I thought that since you were going home that I could catch you before you went to bed. I got the message at 10:25. I called you at 10:40.”

“Do you think that it takes me 15 minutes to get home from work?”

“No,” I said. “I just thought that I might get you before you went to bed because I was going to ask you something.”

“What did you want to ask me?”

“I was going to get the new Gorillaz CD and I was just checking if you were going to get it.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Do you want a copy of it?” I asked.

“Umm.. Sure. Is that it?”

“Basically,” I said. “I’m sorry that I woke you up. I actually wasn’t going to call you, but your nasty message prompted me to call. You should have just left a message like, ‘I’m going to take a nap with Audrey. Please don’t call.’ That’s all you had to do. You just kind of asked for it.”

“Sorry I asked for it.”

“No, I’m sorry that I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I got three different calls after you called so the nap was a wash anyway.”

“Why didn’t you turn off your ringer,” I asked.

“All three of them?”

“Yeah.”

“Look I got to go ,” he mutters. “I don’t want to burn up my minutes on my cell.”

“Ohh… I’m… sorry… I didn’t … mean… to… take… so… long… on the… phone….”

Bill sighs. “Are you about done?”

I laugh. “Yeah, I’m done.”

Bill hangs up. Just when I was thinking that this was over and that any hopes of messing with Bill would continue were slim, I get a surprise.

Bill calls back in the afternoon.

“You know who’s funny?

“Who?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Bob. He is fun-neee. So funny. I tell you. Ho boy. He is hysterical.”

I start to laugh, “What are you talking about? What did I do?”

“Oh, you know. I told you that I wanted to get off my phone because I don’t want to burn my minutes and you go, ‘Oh. I’m…sorry… about… that…. I… don’t… mean… to…’ and you keep me on the phone and go ‘blah blah blah’ and ‘I’m so funny’ and whoop-dee-doo and la-dee-dee.”

I laugh and say, “I’m sorry.”

“When you say that you want to get off the phone because you don’t want to burn your minutes, don’t I let you go?”

“Well, yes.”

“Well, stop it! It’s not funny.”

“Oh, come on! It’s a little funny. Get a sense of humor.”

“Get a sense of humor! You all of people don’t have a sense of humor about this!”

I laugh again.

“Look. I was speaking slow because it was a reference to the Simpson’s episode where Homer calls a football betting line and they go ‘in… the… game… between… Denver… and… Cin… (Cincinatti) ci… Cincinatti) natt… (Cincinati)… ti…’ I figured that you of all people would get the reference and find it funny.”

“I’m just laughing,” I say, “because I was just writing up something about this today.”

He fumes, “I knew it! Great, another one-sided blog story!”

I defend myself by saying, “I had no intention of calling you today, but you kind of asked for it when you sent your message. I had to write it down verbatim.”

I read him the message in the same tone and cadence that he used. Bill hangs up.