Good Morning, Shorty

I’m fighting a chest cold. I really tired and my voice sounds like I’ve been smoking three packs a day for the last 20 years. So, perhaps I wasn’t in the best mood when I received a phone call at 5:36 this morning. Yes, my phone rang at 5:36 a.m., waking me, my daughter (who was sleeping next to me), and the dog up.

Me: Hello?

Asshole Caller: Yeah . . is,sdff sd;aspi wetheere serhsa there?

Me: What?

Asshole Caller: Yeah . . . this Shorty’s number?

Me: NO.

Asshole Caller: Oh. Sorry.

I snapped the phone closed, said a few swear words under my breath and put my head back down. The phone rings again.

Me: HELLO.

Asshole Caller: Yeah . . . this Shorty’s number?

Me: NO. Same number.

Asshole Caller: This ain’t Shorty’s number?

Me: NO!

Asshole Caller: Oh. Sorry.

I snapped the phone closed again and said a few swear words out loud. My daughter, who does not like to be awakened AT ALL, starts to whine and groan. I tell her to go back to sleep before all cranky hell breaks lose. We are almost back to sleep when . . . the phone rings AGAIN.

Me: HELLO??!!??

Asshole Caller: Yeah . . . this Shorty’s number?

Me: Yeah . . . here you go.

I put the phone up to my daughter’s face and say, "Here . . . someone wants to talk to you. Talk to them." I have fully anticipated the long screechy, wailing, whiny, scream that will come out of her mouth.

Daughter: NOOOOOOOOO!!!! I DON’T WAAAAANNNNNAAAAA TALK ON THE PHONE! NOOOOOOOOO!

Asshole caller hung up. And never called back.

Behold . . . the power of a crabby three year old.