Screeching and Whistling on the Telephone Line

I despise telemarketers. I understand they've just got a job to do, but that doesn't mean their job should involve me. Lately, I've been receiving a call from some telephone number in Oregon, at least three times nightly. Every night. Let's just say the call comes often enough that it piqued my interest enough to determine that the (248) prefix was assigned to Oregon.

I've decided that if I can't stop the calls, I'll make the caller suffer. So, every time this number pops up now, I stand from my chair, fill my lungs with air and emit an ear splitting SSSSSCCCCCCRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCHHH!!!!

My wife witnessed this last night and began rolling on the floor laughing. Claiming that not only was the sound frightening, but that my face contorted in a maniacal manner, she had tears streaming down her face, banging the floor in hysterical laughter.

She then shared with me that her late Aunt Frances shared my detest for telephone buggery and employed a similar strategy. First, allow me to share a few facts about Aunt Frances. Although I never was blessed enough to meet the angel on earth, I've been filled with enough stories to paint an accurate picture of the woman.

Frances never married.

Frances lived with her sister Marie, who strangely enough never married either.

Frances and Marie had a snow white pomeranian named Tiny.

Frances and Marie wiped Tiny's ass after he did his business.

Tiny had a place at the dinner table, complete with his own placesetting.

Frances and Marie lived to be VERY old and were most likely whisked past the undecideds lined up to see St. Peter, and were given a personal audience with Christ himself.

It's the goodness and purity that make the story my wife told so funny.

Apparently, when a telemarketer would call Frances, she would grab her whistle (right near the phone mind you), and not just any whistle. No, this whistle was provided to Frances by Oscar - Meyer. It was a wiener two inches in diameter and five inches long. She'd wrap her lips around the wiener and blow. Not gently mind you. Frances wanted to get the telemarketer off, so she'd blow with everything she had! If the first blow didn't do the trick, she'd blow again! The wiener blowing climax would end in a stream of excited, spurting language. It was then, and only then, that Frances would pull her pursed, bruised lips away from the wiener. No wonder she got so many calls!