I was too dirty for the obscene phone caller.
I’d heard all about him from my neighbors in the dorm who had their ears assaulted by his nasty words. I knew his modus operandi, so by the time he’d let his fingers do the walking to my phone, I was ready.
I don’t know if he was trying to offend or arouse me, but his trite descriptions of what he wanted to do bored the hell out of me. I had to read Dostoevsky that night; I wasn’t in the mood for the nonsense. After listening far too long, I ended it with one sentence:
“Is that what you do to your mother?”
Click. Dial tone.
And with that, I had out-obscened the obscene phone caller. His fingers would dial no more.
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