Phone By Sean Tarjoto

I was in the middle of a shower when my phone rang about twenty times before hanging up in front of my ear.

As I stood there, in my little puddle of soap and chlorine, contemplating installing the line closer to the toilet, I never once thought "Who the hell was that?"–a mistake on my part. I have no idea why it never crossed my mind, as such a reasonable and commonplace thought would on any other sky blue day. Instead, I was outraged. I was wet and cold. And my foot really hurt (because I’d bumped it against the soap rack on the way out and then hit the bathroom door.)

But then the really damn strange thing happened. The phone rang. In my hand. Off the hook. Like it’s not supposed to.

I thought, at first, "doorbell", but realized the annoying high pitched bell sound piercing my ear was in fact the thing hanging two feet across from my nose. I have a wall-mounted phone, you see, audio capability only. It’s a standard General Electric dark orange touch-tone button phone with the little slip under the plastic cover that holds the number of all your special acquaintances, or those people and places you feel must be dialed immediately with the touch of a button, like pizza or 1-900 numbers.

Yes, I have a very normal phone.

And thus, had no idea how to answer it while it was ringing off the hook. I thought, hmm, I could hang it up and pick it up a few seconds later. But that would’ve disconnected it any other day. So, I thought again, I could say "hello", but every time I tried that the phone would answer back with the lovely clang of metal bells.

I began asking myself whether this thing needed to be repaired or I needed to see a psychologist. Now, I’m no phone expert or AT&T chief executive or anything, but I knew for a fact that phones simply don’t ring when you pick them up. Or I thought I did.

And then, an epiphany. What if phones did ring when you left them off the hook? What if, the only reason no one believed it was true was because no one had ever decided to leave their phone off the hook, go to their neighbor’s house, and dial themselves up?

"Oh, hello, Bob, I was just wondering if I could use your phone."

"Oh, what’s wrong with yours?"

"Oh, nothing. But I do think there’s a global conspiracy tailored to leave mine off the hook whenever I’m alone with Doris so that some horny-ass government spy can listen in while we make passionate, noise-ordinance-violating love."

"Oh, sure, come on in."

This was a paradigm! A veritable plot twister. A slap on the face with my own hindquarters, kicked by my own steel-toed boot.

Whilst I stood pondering the intricacies of the situation, it continued blatantly into my eardrums. As I so idiotically stared out my window rationalizing the situation, some crazy guy with a camera was probably watching me stand around in a wet bath towel held only by my fat ass (and left hand). Well, whatever the case, I was getting cold and my toe was throbbing quite painfully now.

I decided my own body’s welfare was more important than any phone malfunction, wrong number, or guy with a really good soprano. And I was just about to hang up when suddenly the ringing switched to beeping. A busy-signal. You know, the beep-beep-beep-beep that reminds you that you aren’t the only person so-and-so’s given her number to.

So I became agitated, and naturally, appropriately, and perhaps even justifiably, blamed the phone. I hung up turning about-face with the little bell inside continuing to fade quickly into a dull silent thrum-thrum. Some idiot was prank phone-calling the wrong, freshly showered person.

I picked up the handle and dialed the operator.

"Operator." The operator whined.

"Hello, I need the number of the last person who called."

"Hold on, please." I held on, and let a grin surface across my suddenly drying features. Whoever had insisted they meddle with my shower time was about to pay severely. I heard the phone click and the operator sigh.

"Sir, we don’t have time for this…"

"What? Whaddya mean?" I yelped back.

"Sir, playing with the phone is a serious offense."

"What? Hey, lady, this is an honest question. Just gimme the number…"

The operator cleared her throat, obviously frustrated. "Sir…"

"Hey, what is this? Gimme the goddamn number or I'll file a complaint or something."

"Sir, the number is 541-292-7942…"

This, is what I aforementioned was so goddamn scary. Scary as hell. Because that was my number.