soapboxdiner

Anger management

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I had forgotten to make. I found the number and diealed it. A man answereed, saying "Hello". I politely said, "This is SBD. 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 nmber 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, "Your 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, "Your an asshole!" It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID came to our area, I though my therapeutic 'asshole' called would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is Mary Smith from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with the Caller ID program?" He yelled, "NO!" and slammed the phone down.

I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an ASSHOLE!"

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some buy with a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting for the spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a 'For Sale' sign in his car window... so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial now), I thought I had better call the BMW asshole, too. I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?" "Yes, it is."

"Can you tell me where I can see it?"

"Yes, I live at 1802 W 34th St. 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 replied.

"When's a good time to catch you, Don?" "I'm home every evening after five."

"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"

"Yes?"

"Don, you're an asshole." The 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 them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I came up with an idea. I called Asshole #!

"Hello."

"you're an asshole!" (But I didn't hang up.)

"Are you still there?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Stop calling me!" he screamed.

"Make me."

"Who are you?" he asked

"My name is Don Hansen."

"Yeah, where do you live?"

"Asshole, I live at 1802 W 34th St, a yellow house with my black Beamer 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 realy scared, asshole."

Then I called Asshole #2.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hello, asshole."

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, today's your lucky day. I'm coming over right now." Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying I lived at 1802 W 34th St, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.

Then I called Channel 13 News about the gang war going down on W 34th St.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th.

There I saw two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew.

NOW, I feel better.

6:22 am - 11.20.03
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