So I’m at the dollar store with mom a few months back and she spies these pink cell phones and decides to buy one to support Breast Cancer. It’s a good cause, and it says it’ll be so easy to move your number, set it up. A snap, plus it comes with a Cadillac full of minuets and a camera, and, well, it’s pink. So she buys it. I was for it because fundamentally I am a cheap kind of guy and I would end up with her old phone which is perfectly fine it’s just old. It’s been perfect for four years. No problems. Just ate minuets and pooped data, or phone calls. Bad analogy there but you get the idea. So, great phone, just old and a new one beckoned. I would bet there are people reading this who have almost gotten into relationship problems using that same reasoning. Funny the double standards we have, eh?
So she buys the phone, we go home and I go to work on the computer because other than going to church once a week and chasing horny tom cat’s away from my Fred cat that’s about all I do. So I typed away for a few minuets but I kept hearing these sighs, and mutterings, so finally I said… “Uh, Mom… Everything okay?”
Lets set the record straight I knew everything was not okay, but I was hoping for an answer like “I’m taking this $#@%^ phone back it’s junk!” Yes. I was actually hoping for that answer. Instead I got … “I can’t figure it out. I’m doing exactly what it says…”
“Okay,” I soothed. I am a man. I know how to fix these things and most of the time I don’t even have to read the manual. I didn’t say that. I have learned not to say it because it just turns out to be that one time when I can’t do it and I look stupid. So I took the phone and spent the next hour doing all the same things mom had and getting nowhere.
“$#@**%# Phone,” I said.
“I told you,” Mom agreed. “There’s a number to call.” She held up a piece of paper and I couldn’t help wondering why she hadn’t given me the piece of paper earlier when I could have possibly used it. But then I reminded myself that I never would have used it anyway.
“Hmm.” I frowned as I looked over the number. “So. You have a phone that doesn’t work and they give you a tech number to call.”
“Well you have the other one.”
“Yes. But what if I didn’t?”
Mom shrugged and I realized the stupidity of my own question, still, didn’t it sort of make sense? Isn’t it sort of like offering a drunk a drink while he waits? I don’t know. Reluctantly I punched the number into the other cell phone, pretty much jammed the end of the cell phone halfway into my brain and waited.
I touched on this the other day. I had never had to call tech support in the last ten years. There is no Tech support in prison…
“No. There is no tech support in prison. Stop calling here you moron.”
“But I’m in prison!”
The phone stopped burring and a Voice came on the line. Computer voice. Push one for billing issues, two if you’ve had an affair with a politician, three for technical support. I pushed three but I didn’t push it fast enough because the whole thing played again. I ended up having to call back and immediately press three.
Now, let me say this delicately, why would you get a job in tech support in America if English is not your first language? And why would a major company hire you. After thirty seconds of trying to understand the woman I gave the phone to mom hoping the kindred spirit thing would kick in but no, she couldn’t understand her either. She gave me back the phone. Apparently womaneez doesn’t cross the language barriers easily.
It must have been about two hours later and the third string of numbers the woman had given me before the phone finally began to work.
“You are being happy with your experiences?” The tech asked me.
“Are you serious,” I asked?
“Yes. Of Course. Serious is what I am being.”
“Oh God,” I said aloud. “Have you ever heard this?”
“Yes? I am Listening.” She obviously thought we had bonded.
I hung up. Mean, I know.
Two days later there was a recall on mom’s coffee maker. I called tech support.
“Yes? I am being happy to be taking your call.”
“Never mind I’ll buy a new one.” I said
A week later my new laptop croaked. I called customer service.
“Yes? I can be helping you?”
“What? Do you work for the coffee maker place?”
“No. That is my sister, Sari.”
Take a look at Crime Time: Crime Time is a compilation of many of my crime stories; some written under pen names, some written under my own name. They range from very short, a few thousand words, to nearly novel length. Take a look if you are a crime buff, Dell…
by Dell Sweet 2017 all rights reserved foreign and domestic.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living persons places, situations or events is purely coincidental.
Portions of this novel are Copyright © 2010 – 2015 Dell Sweet. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and or distributed without the author’s permission.
Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.
This material is licensed to this blog diygk.com and no one else.
This material is copyright protected
This material is NOT edited for content
I shifted in the chair and then looked at Doctor Meiser. He motioned for me to continue and smiled reassuringly.
“I was the designated driver, I had two drinks early and then I drank coke for the rest of the night. The girls danced all night while Bobby and I sat at the table and talked about how much our lives had changed since we were little kids growing up in the same neighborhood. The last dance was a slow dance and we all got up to dance. It had been a long day. It felt so good to hold Ann close as we danced…”
We left early morning after last call and headed out of the city. As we sat idling at a crosswalk, Ann and Sarah giggling and talking excitedly, a young woman with mascara running down her too-pale face staggered into the crosswalk, stumbled into the passenger side fender and sprawled across the hood. After a brief second she straightened back up and made her way around the car. Her long black hair hung listlessly around her face as she finally negotiated the car and the rest of the crosswalk. I shook my head. The light changed and I put her out of my mind.
The traffic was light going out of the city. The girls talked back and forth; Sarah leaning over into the front seat Bobby smiling and looking happier than I had seen him in a very long time. I left the city, merged into traffic on the river road and headed for home. It was all so normal until it happened.
The tire blew in an area where there was a slight drop off from the river road. It drops down there into a grassy area with picnic tables right alongside the river, like a little park. Bobby had said something, I lifted my eyes to the mirror and the tire blew.
The wheel spun in my hands just like that. One second fine: I could feel the road in the steering wheel as the tires passed over the expansion joints in the concrete. Thump… Thump… Thump… It could lull you into not paying attention and I have wondered if that was what happened, if it lulled me into relaxing. The next second my world came unglued.
Thump… Thump… Bobby spoke… Thump… I raised my eyes and the wheel was torn from my hands, spun through my grasping fingers leaving its heat stinging against my palm. Gone before I could catch it.
Because the road dipped and the land fell away? Maybe, I don’t know. The tire blew on the passenger front right at the entrance of the little park so there was no guardrail to stop the car. The wheel spun, the car dropped off the road, became airborne and as I was turning I saw a tree coming for the passenger side of the windshield. I tried to get the wheel back and steer, but I was airborne I couldn’t get the wheel, I couldn’t steer. And there was no time anyway. We hit the tree hard with the right front, slued sideways in the air and then the car continued on and dropped into the river.
I was ejected through the driver’s door which sprung open as the car hit the tree. The car slued to the right, the same side it hit on: The door popped open, the car slued again, I would’ve hit the door and stayed in, but since it was open I fell out onto the ground in a sitting position. The car flipped end over end once and then dropped into the river. I watched it all in slow motion from my seat on the ground.
I sat stunned for a few seconds and then began to look for Ann. Then Bobby began to scream.
Loud… In pain… In a panic.
When I looked I saw that the car was sinking into the river: It was also being carried away with the current. The car was nose down. Since Ann was not with me I realized she had to be in the car: Maybe trapped from the damage to that side.
I dove into the water just as the car sank out of sight. Bobby surfaced in front of me, trying to grab my arm, blood flowing from a wound on his head. I pushed him away, fought when he tried to hold me. He suddenly let go and I managed to get past him so I could reach the car, but I never caught sight of the car again after it sank. I had no idea where it had gone. I dove, but the water was black and depth-less. Each time I dove it was farther to get back to the shore, the current was carrying me away…
“The last time I made it to the shore, coughing and choking two bystanders got me and held me. I fought, but I had no real strength left. I sat, weary, my mind locked away from me someplace and waited for the day to be over with.” I looked up at the doctor. I hadn’t even realized that I had been looking at the floor. Not making contact with him at all.” I fell silent reliving it.
The doctor suddenly spoke in the silence.
“It doesn’t matter, Joseph. Don’t look at it like you are telling me…”
It amazed me that he seemed to have read my mind, but I suppose he was used to people looking away or staring at the floor as they spoke.
“Don’t think you have to meet my eyes. Just look at it as you are telling the story to yourself… As if you didn’t know the events…”
He nodded at me. I nodded back and began again…
“The divers hadn’t found the car until the next day, over two thousand feet further down river from where it had gone in, stuck on a sandbar that jutted out from an island in the center of the river.
Ann had been killed instantly, so they said; crushed when the car hit the tree.
Sarah had gone through the windshield, as she had been leaning over the front seat. They found her three weeks later washed up over twelve miles downriver.
Bobby had been killed instantly they had explained to me. The force of the crash pushed him into the driver’s side rear door. As the car spun off the tree the front of the car dropped down, hit the top of the picnic table just right, flipped it up into the air and back. Bobby’s head was pushed out the rear window because of the force of the crash. The broken table hit his head and he continued on into the water, most probably dead before he landed. They found him later in the day. By that time I was in the hospital: Sedated; with my scratches and broken thumb.”