Ah, crank calls...one of the more creative pastimes of the trouble maker. Along with a select few of my friends (you know who you are), I spent hours upon hours harassing poor innocent victims, trying to come up with new and innovative ways of wreaking this particular havoc. The three-way party line. Collect calls from pay phones. Reverse crank calls (where someone accidentally dialed my number and I played along with their situation).
Once I heard Longmont Potion Castle, I pretty much gave up. I can't imagine ever living up to such genius (though, on occasion, the bug still bites and I have to try something just to see if I've still got it).
This is a strange poem a wrote a while back in honor of my most prolific crank call era (circa '92 to '97, give or take). Most are from my own calls, but a few select ones were borrowed from others' calls. Hopefully those who will recognize these snippets will read this...if not, you'd better sleep with one eye open, 'cause I know where you live!
Enjoy...
MERLIN,
YOU FUCKING MAGICIAN
a
telephonic assault of vocal terrorism on
unsuspecting,
yet not always innocent, victims
mom!
pick up the phone!
oh
god, where are you?
at
the bus stop,
not
sure which one
beat
me up and
took
my shoes
i'm
the guy
with
the smurf doll
and
a carrot
dangling
from my head
bisexual--you
didn't know?
let's
meet at blockbuster
i'm
outside in the
big
red truck with the
no
fear sticker
un
burrito de cabeza,
ochenta
tacos con crema,
y
dos choco tacos
we're
coming by to
exterminate
the rabbits
i
don't wanna kill the wabbit
poison
me, i kill you!
sir,
we cannot serve
poison
noodles
kinko's
on h street
out
of transparencies
can
you hold please?
no,
I called you
who
called me?
how
the hell are we here?
this
is a cambodian
refugee
contest, you win
first
prize--a new child!
i
don't understand--
you're
saying my son
ordered
a boy?
to
claim your prize
come
to our office
dance
naked with skeleton
meet me at balboa park
the big fucking tree
bring the diamonds
it's
christmas,
call
me monday
when i'm sober
