© Cindy Beck, 2009
(Keywords: Cindy Beck, phone, telephone, telemarketing, pranks, Magic 8-Ball, humorous writing, humorous blog, humor blog, funny, smile, laugh, humor)
My husband, Russ, likes to pull pranks on our family and his favorite one involves his alter-ego, Rolayne. For example, he might call his sister on the phone and when she answers, he’ll raise his voice to a falsetto and say, “Hi. This is Rolayne. I haven’t seen you in a while, honey. What say we put on some lipstick and head to a disco club? By the way, girlfriend, would you like to buy some sweaty gym socks?” Before Russ’s sister has a chance to stop laughing and catch her breath, Rolayne keeps saying weirder things and adding in more bizarre sale items.
Rolayne is a legend throughout Russ’s family and that “woman” has offered to sell—among other things—burned out light bulbs to our son, and used baby diapers to Russ’s mom. Each time Russ does it, I get up off the floor, wipe tears of laughter from my eyes, and say, “One of these days that will backfire on you.”
Really, am I clairvoyant, or what? My psychic advice is so much better than what Russ would get from a Magic 8-Ball.
Before I go any farther, though, let me give a little background information. My cell phone has ringtones assigned to specific callers. The tone assigned to our son, Dave, started with a metallic twang that caused me to catapult out of my chair, burning my forehead on the overhead light. Being a quick learner, I changed the ring after five or six months.
Fortunately for the sake of blog fodder—but unfortunately for Russ—the ringtone for all the other calls still sounded similar to Dave’s old tone. And the other day when my cell phone rang, Russ answered it …
College Kid: Hi. I’m interested in your rental home.
Russ: Okay, and when were you looking at renting?
College Kid: This summer. Can you tell me how much you charge?
Russ: (thinking the caller is Dave, taking revenge for the burned-out light bulbs): 5 million dollars a weekend.
College Kid: Oh!
Russ: And how many people will be renting?
College Kid: There are two of us.
Russ: Well, the amount I gave was per person.
College Kid: (No words. Long, dead silence.)
Russ (pausing as a dim, but environmentally-conscious, energy-efficient, mercury-filled light bulb blinks on over his head): Umm … who is this?
College Kid: Jeff Swanson*
Russ: Sorry. I thought you were my son.
College Kid: I’m not your son.
Russ: So, you were really looking at renting?
College Kid: Not any more.
I have to say that even though Rolayne hadn’t meant to show up, it was her finest hour.
*This is not College Kid’s real name. Please note that no college students were injured, maimed, or otherwise harmed in the events leading up to this blog—although, there is a student who’s probably walking around in a daze. And let me reassure you that I didn’t make the phone conversation up, either. Just call Rolayne at 1-800-I-Sell-Sweaty-Gym-Socks and ask her.
What's playing in my head: It Might be You (Theme song from "Tootsie") by Stephen Bishop.
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