So I’m sat at the old plantation (aka office) today, when I hear my phone ring. I peep the caller ID without breaking eye contact with the old man before me, because old people are all sorts of annoying when they feel in the least bit abandoned. It is a strange number, one of those that makes you wonder if there’s a new network in town you have not heard of. I don’t know what makes me pick up the call, but I do.
He: Hello… Joy? How are you?
Me: I’m fine…?
He: Why did you just push me aside, ehn? In fact, I’m so angry with you.
Me: *scanning the mental voice recognition database, finding no match* Err… Why, what did I ever do to you?
He: Why would you just forget about me… Do you even know who’s on the line?
Me: No, I don’t.
He: Can you imagine. It’s Great.
Me: *drifting to the memory of a Great with whom I was once in love, and bound to inexplicably by healthy cords of deep attraction. I mean, we never met, and I was young, but still…* Great?! Oh my gosh, WHERE DID YOU EVEN COME OUT FROM!
He: I’m telling you, you this woman.
Me: *forgetting eye contact with the old man, sliding into my ever ready heaux persona* But I thought you had a much sexier voice. What happened?
I pronounce it “haapnhnd”, a sign that I’m well and truly veering off the beaten track, heading into the dark underbrush of entendre and explicity I find so comforting. He didn’t hear me, and I had to repeat it in a cockier, more relaxed manner, scooching down in my seat and doing the boss lady sway in the armchair, totally oblivious to the old man who’s hissing impatiently at me, trying to catch my attention. But my attention has left the building. My attention is a young maiden, living on borrowed oxygen, suffocating in between calls from Great. And boy, could he call. Never before, or since, have I met a man who says, “Lemme just bla bla bla and call you back” and actually does. Long, beautiful calls filled with laughter and poignant longing and me trying to be funny so he’d do his sexy manly chuckle in my ear…
I am so super pumped that he called, even though its been years and I absentmindedly wonder what made him remember me…
He: Where are you now?
Me: Geographically, orrrr… Like in life?
He: Yes, geographically.
Me: Urm… Still here…
He: Are you in the office, maybe I can breeze in and see your beautiful fa…
Imagine, if you will, the sound of a fighter jet plummeting from a great height, to its certain crash amidst awaiting jagged and jutting mountains…
Let me be more relatable.
Imagine approaching your home after a gruelling day, smiling in some level of comfort because you have seen security lights blinking welcomingly at you, only to open your door to discover there is no power. It was gen all along.
In case you’re still confused, it was a different Great. A Great not so great at all, but of rather insignificant importance in and to my life, in any and all quantifiable ramifications.
And so I had to sit and smile stonily when, mere minutes later, the wrong Great walked in, expecting a king’s welcome.
I was not, dear reader, a happy bunny.
I know that technically, this is not much of a blog post. But it is a feeble attempt at exercising my obese, dangerously lazy writing hand. That’s got to count for something, right?