About Me

I feel the wanderlust and the call of the open highway. Which is good, because I drive cars for a living. But I'm a writer, and someday hope to once again make my living using my writing skills.

Monday, February 18, 2013


As I was driving through Flagstaff, Arizona over the weekend, this is what was going through my mind:
My boss Riff sure is an ass.  He treats me rudely, and owes me a lot of back pay that I don't know when I'll see.
I've got to get off the road.
When will I go to Richmond again and see my old flame Karen.  We have some unfinished business.
Should I go visit that crazy driver Andy in rehab?  The Doctor did say I saved his life.
Why are so many customers so frakin' impolite and inconsiderate when I try hard to be nice?
Did I insult my good friend Frank in Birmingham by not loving his very first short story that he trusted me to read recently?
I've got to get off the road.

I was on my way to Montana, and was deciding how much further to drive for the day when my cell phone rang.  "This is Bill," I answered.

"Hello Beverly," said a woman with a nasal voice.  Sounded like she was from the Bronx.

"No, this is Bill."

"Bill?  Where is Beverly?"

"I have no idea."

"Can you find out please, it is important.  We have business."

"I don't know Beverly."

"What are you talking?  This is Beverly's phone, and if you answered it then you must know Beverly.  Unless there's some kind of monkey business going on here."

"No ma'am, no monkey business."

"Then what?  Explain yourself."

I hesitated.  "Well, I am Bill Thomas, and this is my cell phone."

"And where is Beverly?" she asked in a much more demanding tone.

"I don't know.  Not here."

"Are you sure?  Can you please look around for me?  This is important business."

"I just looked around and I assure you she is not here."

"Bill, don't kid a kidder, I know you didn't just have time to look around the entire house.  I wasn't born yesterday."

"I'm in a car."

"You're driving?  Oh for goodness sake.  Is it Beverly's car?"

"I don't know Beverly."

She cleared her throat, and then spoke in a measured manner.  "Then I can only conclude that you've stolen her phone and her automobile."

I could see this was going nowhere, except in an endless circle.  "What's your name, Miss?"

"That's none of your business, and I think its pretty presumptuous of you to ask."

"OK, my cell phone number is 205-888-8999.  Is that Beverly's number?"

"Yes, it is the number I dialed.  205-888-9999."

"I see the problem right there.  Beverly is 9999 and I'm 8999."

There was a long silence.  "Then this isn't Beverly's number?"

"No ma'am."

"And what is your name?"

"Bill Thomas."

Suddenly her voice was full of sunshine.  "Bill how are you, this is Maddie Frye from special realty financing.  How would you like to re-finance your house for 0% interest, no kidding and no strings attached?"

"Uh, well, I don't own a house."

"No?  Well, what about your parents, I'm sure that they own one.  They won't want to pass on a re-fi on their house for 0% interest."

"Both of my parents are deceased."

She grunted.  "Well if that's the case, then this whole conversation has been an utter waste of my time."  Maddie hung up on me.  I put a Jimmy Buffett CD into the car stereo and slipped off into a Margaritaville state of mind.

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