Monday, July 11, 2005

A Note on the Call

Focus, Jim, focus. It will be done in just a second. No big deal. Just think how happy everyone will be once it’s done. Now just go through what you’re going to say. When he answers, what are you going to say? What if it isn’t a guy? What if it’s a chick? Oh, man, I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. Why do I have to do it?

Jim peered at the telephone all shiny sitting in its little cradle taunting him. He hated that phone. It seemed to snicker when he walked by. He played with the coins in his pocket trying to summon up the courage to do what needed to be done. He glanced to the refrigerator where he kept all of his lists.

Feed the dogs. Check. Vacuum the family room. Check. It says nothing of the phone call. What if I just didn’t do it? It would serve them right.

He stomped his clumsy feet in defiance and shook his big Teutonic head. The phone still didn’t move.

Okay. I am going to write it all down. Then I’ll just read it. I can read it. Right? I’ve done that before. No big deal. C’mon, Jim. Toughen up!

His monstrous hands reached for the cold-water knob on the faucet in the kitchen sink. The cool water dribbled out and swirled around harmlessly before falling to the drain. Jim cupped the coolness and splashed it briskly into his face. Refreshed and invigorated, he wheeled around and faced his nemesis grabbing it by the throat and placing it firmly against his ear. His resolve seemed steely and his sausage-like fingers quickly pounded out the number.

Here goes nothing. It’s ringing. Oh, my holy simole, it’s ringing. Steady, Jim, steady. Focus. A girl answered. Good thing I prepared for the chick. She’s talking. She’s talking. How long is she going to talk? Focuuuusssss. Okay, big boy, it’s Showtime.

Jim flexed his knees and rose onto his tippy-toes. An ox dancing a ballet. His nerves steadied and he blurted it all out.

“I’d like two large pepperoni pizzas, a medium combo and two orders of garlic cheesy bread.”

The sweet smell of success.

I rock.

**I wrote this in response to a prompt at the Alchera Project. I actually had a lot of fun trying my hand at something a little different here. I hope you all enjoy it.


Blogger PractiGal said...

I know people who have phobias like this. I can't relate, though I sure got anxious reading your piece! Nice job!

12:39 PM  
Blogger Shaleen said...

Definitely enjoyed it. : D

2:28 PM  
Blogger kenju said...

I had no idea it would end like that! Good job; I DID enjoy it.

5:09 PM  
Blogger Better Safe Than Sorry said...

thank goodness it was pizza, i was beginning to worry it might be chinese

7:14 PM  
Blogger Indigo said...

Very enjoyable! I love it when you try something new.

8:38 PM  
Blogger Anita said...

I love this piece!

I hate to admit it, but for a long time I really had a problem with the telephone. I was honestly nervous to make a hair appointment. Finally, when I got my first real job, I had to make so many calls that I got over it. But those first few months on the job were very painful. I still dislike the phone to this day.

2:50 AM  
Anonymous Pearl said...

That's so fun. It kept me guessing and made a smile for an end. Wonderful!

6:24 AM  
Anonymous john cowart said...

You hit the nail on the head with this piece.

I go through this process with every phone call. And when the thing rings... I actually say a prayer before I pick it up.

I think I'd rather visit the dentist than make a phone call.

Pathetic, isn't it.

6:24 AM  
Anonymous Grandpa Jones said...

Okay, K I am sorry that I forced you to love sports, I am sorry that I wanted you to go into law, you have a great talent with words I would hope that you will find a way to make a living with it.......

7:46 AM  
Blogger The Wife said...

This is actually a lot like K's life. We fight about who has to call the bank, the insurance company, make Dr.'s appointments. Now thatt I think about it, it is usually me:)

10:22 AM  
Blogger Lucy Stern said...

I don't mind the telephone at all. The only time I shy away from it is if I have to call a repair man; that means that I have to spend money I don't want to spend. Now order pizza, where's the phone.
You do have a way with words and that is one of the reasons I come over to read you. I must say that you don't have to make a living doing it to have fun. If my husband wrote for a living, I would never get to talk to him. When he starts writing, you just better leave the room, "He's concentrating". Don't talk, don't even walk into the room. No, I think he better just write for fun.

5:22 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

As hard as it is to believe, I agree with Grandpa Jones. You write incredibly well. Can you give us a link to your online book. Perhaps you could even include it in your blog roll.

4:47 AM  
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1:31 PM  

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