CELL PHONE NOISE
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Josh Meyers. DAMMIT. John Mayer.”
“What the hell was that message you left me?”
“Katy?”
“Who else would it be?”
“The number came up as Private.”
“Yes. I got a new phone and you are not allowed to have the number.”
“Aw, Katydoodle–”
“Don’t call me that.”
“–don’t be this way.”
“Why do you sound so weird?
“No reason.”
“John, take the phone out of your mouth.”
“Yes, yes: you’re right. Phone in my mouth again.”
“You do that a lot.”
“Doctor says it’s pica.”
“What are you eating?”
“Dude: killer diet. Got a new food guy.”
“How do poor people eat without a food guy?”
“No idea. Honestly, I haven’t thought about poor people in so long.”
“I drove past some today. Not fun.”
“They’re dour. So: what are you eating?”
“New thing: you mix juice cleanse with weight-gain powder.”
“Wow.”
“It confuses the body into losing weight.”
“John, I didn’t go to high school, but I know that’s not true.”
“Down three pounds!”
“That’s great, but we were talking about the mineral deficiencies.”
“I have no mineral deficiencies, I just enjoy licking chalk and eating clay from one specific bend in the river.”
“Y’know what: I don’t care if you get scurvy. I’m mad at you.”
“Aw.”
“I am broken up with you.”
“I know.”
“I am dating a fading movie star.”
“Right.”
“We are no longer having sex. I am having sex with my new boyfriend.”
“I know this. This is a fact I know.”
“He went to art school. He paints for me.”
“I painted for you.”
“You painted me. You put the paint right on me and it was latex house paint.”
“It was from the Ralph Lauren Home line.”
“John.”
“Fine, fine. I don’t want to have sex with you.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I watch you and Daytona do it?”
“Daytona?”
“Tampa?”
“Really? Mature.”
“You’re being unreasonable about this.”
“Unreasonable? No, John. I am being perfectly reasonable. It is perfectly reasonable to not let your old boyfriend watch you hump your new boyfriend. That position is in line with normal human thinking.”
“That’s culturally myopic of you, Katy.”
“When you remove the component of culture from discussion of human endeavor, you no longer have need to keep speaking. Man swims in culture like a fish in water; he can change his culture with great effort, but still lives within the memetic umbrella of an overriding ethos. To remove man from culture, continuing the metaphor, would be like removing the fish from water: not only fatal, but an act which negates the fish’s existence. The water needs to be, if the fish is to be; culture needs to be, if man is to be.”
…
“Okay.”
“I’ve been chatting with Wally.”
“You shouldn’t call him that.”
“He slid into my DMs.”
“Is he hitting on you?”
“No, he wants me to introduce him to the blimp I got for the tour.”
“He’s got a type.”
“Yes. So do I. Tall and douchey. My last boyfriend was, and this new one is. And the old one can’t watch me have sex with the new one.”
“How about I just watch foreplay?”
“No.”
“Is it that I’m in the room? Is that what’s making it weird? I got cameras and microphones.”
“No.”
“Just the camera.”
“No.”
“Just the mic.”
“No.”
“Courtroom sketch artist draws it for me.”
“No.”
“Next door with a hotel glass up against the wall.”
“No.”
“Parrot in the room and then I get the parrot and it does imitations of you two doing it.”
“No.”
“Deaf guy watches and interprets in ASL.”
“What?”
“That’s just racist against the Deaf, Katy.”
“No, I had walked away from my phone because I hate you.”
“Aw. Hey, I never asked what that tattoo meant.”
“I don’t speak Sanskrit.”
“You just got random Sanskrit words tattooed on yourself?”
“No, it’s Sanskrit for ‘I don’t speak Sanskrit.'”
“Well played.”
“Ancient Indians think I’m hilarious.”
“When did you get that?”
“When I was married to Russell Brand.”
…
“Wow: tall and douchey.”
“Momma like what momma like. Now stop being a weird perv. You wanted to be a hippie, go have sex with barefoot women.”
“Ew.”
“Goodbye, John.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“What if you and I have sex while Gainesville watches?”
DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANYMORE
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