The Blocked Call

Sometimes one doesn't even have to leave home to find someone that they want to kill. I just got back from the hospital, where I found my father in a sweet suite and doing much better. That improved my day quite a bit. Then I stopped at a spa on the way home and purchased a rug deodorizer and a bag of Ore-Ida french fries. The cashier and I joked to each other about the strange combination, and from there I came home. So far, so good.

As I was vacuuming the living room rug (yes, after deodorizing it) the telephone rang. Half of all calls received here are either bill collectors or political organizations for which I have an affinity, but not a cent to give. So I just hang up the phone a great deal. I'm sure you do, too. That "Caller ID" thing is wonderful.

Anyway, I put down the vacuum and looked to see who was calling. It was blocked, which will usually get you ignored, but I threw caution to the wind and picked it up just as the answering machine went on. The following is a verbatim record of the conversation, and the name of the guy turned out to be "Mr. Reilley." I will use my nickname, "Rone" (rhymes with phone) because it interplays better with "Reilley." This whole thing happened less than 20 minutes ago.

Reilley: Hello, Kenneth Lyle, please?
Rone: I'm sorry, he isn't here right now, may I take a message?
Reilley: Sure...let me give you my number...
Rone: Ah, what is this about?
Reilley: (ignoring me) 1-800-000-0000 (I didn't write it down)
Rone: OK. What is this about?
Reilley: It's an important matter for Kenneth Lyle. Do you know when he might be in?
Rone: He's in the hospital, I'm his son. Who are you?
Reilley: So when will he be in?

This is roughly where I snapped.

Rone: Well, if he survives it should be within the next month or two.
Reilley: Well, have him call me...could you repeat back the number I gave you? (Angrily) Did you write it down?
Rone: No, of course not, I know not who you are and what you want.
Reilley: Write my number down and repeat it back to me, please.
Rone: Are you out of your fucking mind? I will not, because I don't know what this is about or who you are, you asshole. For all I know, you're trying to sell something. Is that what you're doing, "Mr. Reilley?" And this is a "blocked" call, which makes me think that if you're not a telemarketer you're a bill collector. Is that what you are? Why the fuck would I write down the number for a bill collector that we've been avoiding? (Yelling) Huh? Were my father here, he would tell me to hang up on the asshole. That's you, you're the asshole. So let's try this again, I'll write down the number if you tell me who you are or what this is about...either one will do, "Reilley Boy."

Long pause.

Rone: (holding the phone up and screaming into it) What's the matter?!?! YOU NO SPEAKEY THE ENGLISH?"

Then I hung up on him.

After all that, I finished vacuuming, and my flat smells springtime fresh.