Mon. Sep 26th, 2022

The phone. Of course, the phone. Ringing its contemplative and inviting hum. A vapid, empty gesture. I know that, no matter what, I will stand my ground, tell them what I think, tell them what I need. 

 

I grow tired of the countless days of “hum”s and “ha”s. I need ACTION. I need my life! To settle for anything less is to be a coward. To offer less is to be inhuman. 

 

The ring stops and the other end comes alive through the many holes of the speaker, its hissing ceaselessly droning in my ear. 

 

The procedure begins.

 

I tell them what I need, they tell me what they think I want to hear. 

“I’m sorry but you have to wait a bit longer for your 01101100 01101001 01100110 01100101 00100000 01110011 01100001 01110110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101101 01100101 01100100 01101001 01100011 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110. We are trying as hard as we can to give you [BULLSHIT] but we need another week for [NOTHING] to get back to us so that we can get you your 01101100 01101001 01100110 01100101 00100000 01110011 01100001 01110110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101101 01100101 01100100 01101001 01100011 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110. Call us again later.”

 

“NO!” I shout. “I want to live, not survive! I want to be without the burden of this hardship in my mind, on my body, within my soul! I wish to walk among my fellow man and woman as EQUALS not as EQUAL ENOUGH! Why must I beg for my life over this damned receiver?! Why must all who are less than equal suffer through the degrading, dehumanizing, humiliating, ‘humbling’ ordeal of begging. BEGGING. Over this damned phone?!”

 

“I don’t know if I can help with that. Let me get my supervisor.”

 

Silence.

 

“Hello, how can I help?”

 

“What maligned BEAST do you feed?!” I shout. “What power hungry, scum-fucking MONSTER do you and I serve?! Is my slow death satisfying some urge to prolong my injustice of an existence to some otherworldly (or other money’d) rat-bastard of a businessman?!”

 

“I don’t know if I can help with that. Let me get my supervisor.”

 

Silence.

 

“Hello, how can I help?”

 

“Is this some SICK JOKE?! What man, woman, MONSTER thought that this would do? That hundreds, thousands, MILLIONS of people begging over these damned phones slowly dying would satiate the masses?! Why must your spectre of DEATH reap millions from the dead and dying?! Why can’t it kill me now instead of later?!”

 

“I don’t know if I can help with that. Let me get my supervisor.”

 

Silence.

 

“Hello, how can I help?”

 

“HAND YOUR DAMNED SUPERIOR THE DEATHGRIP, THE NOOSE AROUND MY LIFE. TELL HIM TO GET IT OVER WITH AND CUT OUT THE MIDDLE MAN! TELL HIM TO PULL LIKE HIS LIFE DEPENDS ON MY DEATH AS MUCH AS HE VALUES MY LIFE.”

 

“I don’t know if I can help with that. Let me get my supervisor.”

 

Silence.

 

“Hello, how can I help?”

 

“I want to live.”

 

“I don’t know if I can help with that. Let me get my supervisor.”

 

Silence.

 

“Hello, how can I help?”

 


Edward Park is a fourth-year Secondary Education (English) major. EP909756@wcupa.edu

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