I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had
forgotten to make. I found the number, and dialed it. A man
saying, "Hello?" I politely said, "This is Bill, could I
please speak with Robin Carter?"
Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that
anyone could be so rude.
I tracked down Robin's correct number, and called her. (I had
transposed the last two digits of her phone number.)
After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number
again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an
asshole!" and hung up.
I wrote his number down, with the word 'asshole' next to it, and
put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying
bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell,<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>
"You're an asshole!" <o:p></o:p>
It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'asshole'
calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi,
this is John Smith from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to
see if you're familiar with the caller ID program?" He yelled,
and slammed the phone down.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an asshole!"
So, one day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a
parking spot. <o:p></o:p>
Some boy in a black BMW cut me off, and pulled into the spo t
I had been patiently waiting for. I hit the horn and yelled that I
had been waiting for the spot.
The idiot ignore me. I noticed a "For Sale" in his car window,
So, I wrote down his phone number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I
had his number on the speed dial by now), I thought I had better call
the BMW asshole, too. <o:p></o:p>
I dialed and someone said, "Hello?"<o:p></o:p>
I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"<o:p></o:p>
"Yes, it is."<o:p></o:p>
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"<o:p></o:p>
"Yes, I live at <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /><st1:Street><st1:address>1802 West 34th Street</st1:address></st1:Street>. It's a yellow house
and the car's parked right out front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Don, you're an asshole!" Then I hung up, and added his number to
my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.
But after several months of calling t hem, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I came up with an idea: I called Asshole #1.
"You're an asshole!" (but I didn't hang up).
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Asshole, I live at <st1:Street><st1:address>1802 West 34th Street</st1:address></st1:Street>, a yellow house with my black Beemer parked in front."
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."
Then I called asshole # 2:
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello Asshole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."
Then, I hung up, and immediately called the police, saying that I
lived at <st1:Street><st1:address>1802 West 34th Street</st1:address></st1:Street>, and I was on my way over there to
kill my gay lover.
Then, I called Channel 7 news about the gang war going down on <st1:Street><st1:address>West 34th Street</st1:address></st1:Street>. Then I got into my car and headed over to <st1:Street><st1:address>34th St.</st1:address></st1:Street>
There, I saw two assholes beating the crap out of each other in
front of 6 squad cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew.
NOW, I feel better.