Ignoring the ‘to die for taste’ of Belgian Chocolates I am gorging myself on in the morning I catch a glimpse of my own face in my room mirror. A combination of anguish and petulance helps to create a particularly demoralizing self image which in turn sends more Belgian Chocolates down my throat. I am going to have to make a seriously difficult phone call right now.
Staring at my Philips CD640 Cordless Phone Twin Pack with obvious reluctance I am itching to find any excuse to delay this phone call. Perhaps I need to methodically rearrange my musical CD collections both alphabetically and chronologically, or perhaps I need to bake a meringue pie for my neighbor in a spirit of friendliness and generosity, and maybe, just maybe, I need to go get a new hair cut to match my mood for the New Year, perhaps a furious red Mohawk.
None of these seem to be a good enough excuse to getting me out of making this particularly stress inducing phone call I need to make. For a moment I think I hear the sound of doom falling upon me until I realize that it’s just me grinding my own teeth. I pick up the cordless handset with one sweeping motion like a Matador flashing his cape. It feels strong and light in my hand both at the same time. Slowly number by ominous number I dial.
The phone rings a few times, each ring with me resisting the urge to slam down the phone and run to my bed and jump under the covers. Then just as I was about to throw the phone out of the window in fear someone picks up.
“Hello?” in a sleepy rather confused voice.
“Dad, ummm, it’s Johnny, Johnny Catch..?”
“Yeah I think I recognize the voice of my one and only son kid, what’s wrong, why are you calling at such a God awful time, are you drunk again mate?”
“No Dad, it’s just that…I ummm…”
“Oh no, not again, don’t tell me it happened again, this is the third year in a row!”
“I know Dad, I know… I just, I wasn’t thinking…well you know…”
“I’m coming over. Hang tight kiddo.”
I put down the phone softly. The LCD display shows the time and date. Once again, another New Year marred by my antics. I look up through the large hole in my ceiling where the smoldering remains of my roof once was where the M5 rocket firecracker made its way through and set the roof on fire.
All I wanted was fireworks for New Year. Ah well, at least the whole house didn’t burn down, and my phone still works.