Out to Get Me
“I have enemies,” he said in hushed, fearful tones. “There are people out there . . . relatives . . . neighbors . . . co-workers . . . who take great pleasure in causing me pain and suffering. I have no doubt that they are the ones behind this.” The caller spoke with such solemn earnestness that I involuntarily started choking with laughter.
After I stopped hacking up phlegm, I wheezily replied, “Um, okay . . . and do any of these people work for the electric company?”
“No, not that I’m aware of,” he confessed, “but it wouldn’t matter. My enemies have a great deal of influence in this town. They have ways of getting at me . . .”
I tried to reassure the caller that misreadings occur frequently, and suggested that he take a meter reading now and report it to the electric company. That way, the company could compare his reading with the one they took, and see how far apart the two are.
“I’m not going anywhere near that meter,” he wailed. “That’s probably just what my enemies want me to do. For all I know, they booby-trapped it, and I’d be blown to kingdom come!”
Fighting back more riotous, snorting laugher, I informed the caller in my most deadpan voice that this issue was well outside of my jurisdiction. I urged him to contact law enforcement if he felt that someone was trying to kill or maim him by tampering with his meter.
“I already have,” he hissed, “but they wouldn’t investigate either! It’s clear to me now that this conspiracy is even larger than I thought. All of you are in league with my enemies!”
And with that, he hung up, robbing me of my chance to reply, “Curses! Foiled again! But we’ll get you next time, mark my words . . . .moooahhbwahahaha . . . BWA-HA-HA-HA . . . BWA-HA- *ack, koff, hack* . . . damn . . . *wheeze* . . . fucking cigarettes . . ."