Call Me.


I bet your day didn’t start with an answerphone message of two old people repeating your phone number to each other as if they’re trying to work it out.

Mine did. I picked it up first thing, while I was making a cup of tea. It’s pretty perplexing. It’s also hilarious. So much so, I’ve saved it. I'd like to keep it forever. I’d share it here, if it weren’t for the fact the whole world would then know my number. If it can be deciphered from the two elderly voices, who certainly seemed to struggle with it.

What makes it more confusing was it was left at 6:57am. Who’s discussing my contact details that early on a Saturday morning? Why are they being passed around? I don’t know many geriatrics. I can’t think of any who’d have my number. At least two do now. One had it before. It’s confusing.

I’ve since retrieved the caller’s number from my voicemail provider. I don’t recognise it. I tried Googling it, but it brought up no results. I could call it, but I’m scared. Who knows what I’d unleash. I might end up in a Colin-Farrell-in-Phone-Booth situation. It could bring about the apocalypse. Instead, I’ll wait until they call me back. If they don’t die first. This didn't sound far off.

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