This is the phone call I got this morning, verbatim.
me: HELLO (yelling now)
caller: Is your father home?
me: No, he’s not home right now. He’s dead.
Long, long pause here where I hear the caller breathing into the phone. Then, she hung up, and didn’t call back.
Plus, I do not sound like a kid, a teenager or a young adult. I sound like what I am – over 50 and angry. Daddy’s dead. He’s not in the kitchen, eating a cheese sandwich, hand signaling me that he doesn’t want to talk to the telemarketer on the phone.
Thanks for not calling back. Or maybe not thanks. I was going to impersonate a chicken if you had called back. Cluck.