A Worm I Am

I leave the worst phone messages. I go off on horrible tangents that must leave people wanting to bash their phone recorders with a tire jack just to shut me up. I leave my call-back number numerous times like it’s some kind of cheesy radio ad for car windshield repair. “Call 1-800-ROS-HILL…blah blah blah. Don’t forget!…That’s 1-800-ROS-HILL!” And off they scurry to the garage, to get that tire-jack, crow bar or shotgun.

Why can’t there be a delete option to safeguard me from sending my convoluted messages? A delete option would protect anyone’s voice message box from being corrupted by my tortuous ramblings. In fact, as sophisticated as voice recognition software programs are these days, an automated voice could say, “Dude. Really? You’re really going to leave that message? Please press 1 to delete that nightmare.”

Here are three types of nightmares that I would not rule out as potential disasters for me to leave on people’s recorders:

The Ridiculous Rambling Apologetic Message:

“Hey, this is Ros. I can’t believe I forgot our training session. I am so sorry! I got your message and I’m sorry you’re so upset and called me a worm. But my dog, Spitfire, got out and I had to find him. He only has two legs but man can he run! Anyway I know I’ve missed four other appointments and, believe me, this never happens. Not sure what you meant by worm, but I guess a worm I am. This will not happen again. I’m putting Spitfire in the attic so he won’t get out. I can keep him there all day if I need to. I mean I did it once to my son when he was five. Really can’t be much different. Sorry for being such a worm. I’ll see you Thursday at 4:00. Or was it 3:00?… Wednesday? Um…bye.”

The Pitiful, Disastrously Sympathetic Message:

“Hey, this is Ros. Just calling to say I’m sorry to hear that your cat is dead. I mean died….I mean passed away. I didn’t know Truffles all that well, but I remember he…I mean she had great cat eyes. So cat-like. And now time has closed those eyes. But God will always hold bright torches to guide us into dark caves. Torches that shine into infinity, lighting up endless caves. And that is where you shall find Truffles—in a cave with the same eyes she always had. Peace be with you. Truffles is peace. Oh, and do you still have that frying pan you borrowed? Gotta go. Bye.”

The Nothingness Message:

“Hey, it’s Ros. Just calling for nothing. What’s up? I’m good. Call me if you’re bored. Text me if you want. I can text you or not if you wish. Just lemme know. Or call. Bet you’re busy. I’ll call back in a bit or later. Bye.”

Nightmares worthy enough to scare off any friendship. Guess I need to start writing what I’m going to say on index cards. But then I’ll just sound like some kind of poorly rehearsed, amateur telemarketer who is intent on being the king of all worms. For any of you out there who might be a recipient of future phone messages of mine, I would like to send out a sincere apology for what is headed your way. It’s the least I can do.

As for now, I need to go. I have an appointment I need to be at in 20 minutes.

Hmmmm….Oh no!…the backyard gate is open!

“SPITFIRE!!!?”

Copyright Ros Hill 2016

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