It is 4 a.m.
I am alone downstairs, when all of a sudden, in the kitchen, I hear someone saying, “Hello? Is anybody there? Hello?”
“Hello,” I reply, and walk in.
No one is there — except for my cat, Virgil, who is sitting on the counter.
I shoo him away, think it must have been the thunder, or the early hour, that confused me.
Then my roommate’s phone rings, and goes to voice mail. Rings, and goes to voice mail. Rings, and goes to voice mail.
Finally, I walk into the kitchen, grab his phone off the counter, and say, “Hello, this is my roommate’s phone. Can I help you?”
“Is everything OK?” a man asks.
“Why wouldn’t it be,” I reply.
“I got a call, heard strange noises, then a muffled voice calling for help.”
I assure him that everything is OK, and he seems satisfied. As I place the phone back on the counter, I realize:
GOD DAMN IT VIRGIL YOUR ASS JUST SCARED THAT POOR MAN HALF TO DEATH.