I got this call tonight…
Me: ‘lo?
Freakish Caller: Hey [insert real name].
Me: Hey. What’s up?
FC: I just wanted to let you know that I’m in bed. Naked. Thinking of you.
Me: Wha? Who the [insert expletive] is this?
FC: Sleep tight, baby. [hangs up]
I’m torn between laughter and the sudden urge to vomit. And now I’m afraid to go back to sleep ‘cause I have icky thoughts in my poor, innocent mind. I wish my friends weren't so freaksihly determined to freak me out. [cries]
Well, you could pray the Rosary to dispel the icky thoughts, but I suspect you'd rather have the icky thoughts
[ponders making a few prank calls of her own...]
Do it! Start with Trigger, since even when he has nothing to do with it, he still has to be at fault, right?
SK
Dylanfanatic
Illusions fall like the husk of a fruit, one after another, and the fruit is experience. - Narrator, Sylvie