“Hello, how can I help you?”
Dead, like Juliet rotting on Romeo's corpse, someone says “Alpha... Bravo... Charlie...”
“Do you want to talk about a claim?”
“Delta... Echo... Foxtrot...”
Mike hangs up. “Bitch.”
“Everything okay?” Charlie asks.
“Just some drunk hopped up on whiskey. Oh, here we go,” Mike turns back and answers automatically.
“Golf... Hotel... India...”
“This isn't funny, please stop wasting our time.”
He hangs up, but the phone rings again. “Hello... listen, you're not impressing anyone!”
“... Kilo... Lima...”
“Shit.”
“Mike, watch you're language. Call Oscar to report it, yeah?”
“Sorry Charlie.” Mike can't dial out; the phone goes again. He hangs up without answering. It rings again.
“Hello?!”
“Papa... Quebec...”
“Fuck's sake, stop!”
“Mike!”
“Sierra... Tango... Uniform...”
“Look, Charlie, report this? I can't get a call out...”
Charlie nods and calls out. “Oscar, got a problem with a phone. Victor, X-ray, November 147. Yeah, Mike keeps getting prank calls.”
“Yankee... Zulu...” Suddenly the line dies. The hollow tone echoes. No call comes back in.
“They've given up.”
“Oscar's blocked them anyway but they were calling you specifically. Do you recognize this number?”
Mike looks at Charlie's note. “Shit, yeah, that's my fucking house!” Mike runs out, panicking.
No-one knows what happened. He and his girlfriend are still missing; all they found at his house were teeth...
Thursday 1 October 2009
Sunday 9 November 2008
Oh my Pogon!
Plod, plod, plod my feet went against the pavement, as I walked from the bus station to the Post Office. My mind was fixed on the Arsenal vs. Man U match to come (SAMIR NASRI! SAMIR-SAMIR NASRI!) as I ascended the quite ludicrous valleys of Bradford.
"Excuse me," someone said in the tone that indicates they want something from me that isn't help or directions. I, being in a good mood for once, did not ignore this intrusion into my life, this liminal message, and turned to my greeter.
He was a plain, red-haired American, wearing a plain, black suit and a backpack. I was wearing all black, carrying a black laptop bag and poorly shaven; we were almost pure contrasts.
"Yes?"
"Do you want to know about the closeness that Jesus Christ can bring to your family?" he said in his amiable American accent. It was then I noticed his name tag, which proclaimed him as being from The Church of Latter Day Saints.
I, annoyed, walked away. It took me a second to think of the perfect retort, by which time it was too late to give it; 'Why, do I look as though I need to be brought closer to my family? Does the fact that I'm wearing black and have a facial piercing mean that I must come from a broken family?"
The feeling passed, especially when Arsenal beat the Mancs, but I still resent the implication which religious advertising, as it were, makes; that people cannot be happy or settled without an invisible beard in the sky, and all those who uphold the Pogonocracy have wonderful, happy lives.
Bollocks, I say; bollocks.
I've realized that I come across highly anti-religious in this blog, but I'm really anti-fuckwit (my girlfriend's word. Great, isn't it?). It just so happens that the most vocal fuckwits are extremely religious...
"Excuse me," someone said in the tone that indicates they want something from me that isn't help or directions. I, being in a good mood for once, did not ignore this intrusion into my life, this liminal message, and turned to my greeter.
He was a plain, red-haired American, wearing a plain, black suit and a backpack. I was wearing all black, carrying a black laptop bag and poorly shaven; we were almost pure contrasts.
"Yes?"
"Do you want to know about the closeness that Jesus Christ can bring to your family?" he said in his amiable American accent. It was then I noticed his name tag, which proclaimed him as being from The Church of Latter Day Saints.
I, annoyed, walked away. It took me a second to think of the perfect retort, by which time it was too late to give it; 'Why, do I look as though I need to be brought closer to my family? Does the fact that I'm wearing black and have a facial piercing mean that I must come from a broken family?"
The feeling passed, especially when Arsenal beat the Mancs, but I still resent the implication which religious advertising, as it were, makes; that people cannot be happy or settled without an invisible beard in the sky, and all those who uphold the Pogonocracy have wonderful, happy lives.
Bollocks, I say; bollocks.
I've realized that I come across highly anti-religious in this blog, but I'm really anti-fuckwit (my girlfriend's word. Great, isn't it?). It just so happens that the most vocal fuckwits are extremely religious...
Tuesday 4 November 2008
Aren't you interesting?
The abbreviation n't is a very curious one; it saves the writer a mere white space and two-thirds of an o and so isn't what one could call efficient (except in the occasional call like won't, obviously). The speaker is saved a few milliseconds as they run the two words together, but the abbreviation really affects speech.
I'll start with an obvious example;
"Don't do that!"
"Do not do that!"
The first sounds playful, happy, as though you're asking someone to stop tickling you; the second is your mother warning you against poking your brother with a 1:32 model of the Bat Mobile.
Including not into a sentence adds weight to the message: "We are not going to the park," "You shall not pass," and "I have not got any hash." You read the word not with a certain, aggressive inflection, and really I should have italicized each one.
However, there are some cases where the word not just doesn't fit in a sentence where n't does; the abbreviation makes the sentence sensible, where as not makes the sentence clunky: "Aren't you cold?" as opposed to "Are not you cold?"
"Is not it Thursday today?
"Have not you got the keys?"
The sentences just don't seem right, despite making complete grammatical sense, and you would certainly be suspicious of someone who talked like that. I guess it's just because of how we're used to speaking, but it's certainly a curiosity, ain't it?
I'll start with an obvious example;
"Don't do that!"
"Do not do that!"
The first sounds playful, happy, as though you're asking someone to stop tickling you; the second is your mother warning you against poking your brother with a 1:32 model of the Bat Mobile.
Including not into a sentence adds weight to the message: "We are not going to the park," "You shall not pass," and "I have not got any hash." You read the word not with a certain, aggressive inflection, and really I should have italicized each one.
However, there are some cases where the word not just doesn't fit in a sentence where n't does; the abbreviation makes the sentence sensible, where as not makes the sentence clunky: "Aren't you cold?" as opposed to "Are not you cold?"
"Is not it Thursday today?
"Have not you got the keys?"
The sentences just don't seem right, despite making complete grammatical sense, and you would certainly be suspicious of someone who talked like that. I guess it's just because of how we're used to speaking, but it's certainly a curiosity, ain't it?
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