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Learning the Evils of Speakerphone
by: Swanky

Rating: PG-13
Summary: This is for everyone out there who has ever wanted to hear the other end of a phone conversation. Sometimes, it's better not to know.
Author’s Notes: This was written for my crative writing class. The assignment was to take a dialogue, just the dialogue, and then write a story around it, and the dialogue that I used was an IM conversation between my best friend Rhys and myself. I am the roommate in this- just so you know how messed up my thinking process is... ;o)

~*~

Learning the Evils of Speakerphone


She’d been on the phone for a while at that point, laughing so hard she was crying. In hind sight I damn myself for even wondering who she was talking to. She has always been a bit strange, and I know that combining her with any of her friends often scares me. And still I found myself wishing that I could hear the other end of the conversation. And so I did it; I asked her who she was talking to. I knew I was in trouble as soon as I heard the speaker phone click on. I should have just kept my mouth shut…

“Rhys, say hi to my roomie,” she turned from the phone to flash me a bright and terrifying smile.

“Hi, Roomie!” Rhys sounded far away and static broke her words. “Oh my god, Albertus Magnus has the religion class I need! And Issues of Sexual Morality, that could be fun…” There was no mistaking the suggestive tone of her voice, even through the pops and crackles of the phone. “Do it with me, please!”

“I don't think I need that one...” I watched as she climbed back on to her bed. I knew it was futile to hope she would turn off the speaker phone before continuing her conversation. I also knew without a doubt that I did not want to hear the rest of the conversation when she turned to me and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively before continuing. “And the two of us together, in that class? Are you trying to scar as many teachers as possible throughout your college career? OH! I have a quote to use in a story!” Silently I admired Rhys’ ability to follow her train of thought when it jumped tracks so quickly. “Just heard it today: ‘Don't look at me like that, it’s disrespectful.’ What do you think?”

“Pen, pen, I need a pen…”

“I take it you like it then? Ooo! I love this song! So you think you can love me and leave me to die? Oh, baby, can’t do this to me baby! Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outa here.” My Theatre History teacher had once told the class that musical theater was unrealistic by its very nature because people do not burst into song during real life. Apparently he had never met my roommate.

“I want to do a psych independent study. Then I could do one of these fun experiments I’m always dreaming up” I sat wondering if my roommate would take the bait and return to talking about school. Somehow I doubted it.

“Hehehe! Could we try the one where we tie men to chairs naked and keep them in a constant state of arousal?” I knew it.

“Hahaha, and we could get willing volunteers… there's enough dumb college males willing to agree to give us a good test size.”

“Haheheha!”

“What if they had to sit in a row, tied to the chair, with blinders and collars, so that they couldn't see each other, but they knew they were there?” I was swiftly finding out that Rhys had as dirty a mind as my roommate, if not worse.

“We are sooo fucking mean.” My roommate held out the so, her face turned up towards the ceiling as she spoke, making her look like a singing choir boy; praising the Lord above with the joys of music.

“I think this is why they won't let us do psychology…”

“You think? Another one bites the dust, bump bump bump, another one bites the dust!” And she was singing again.

“Ha! Another one rides the bus!” And so was Rhys.
Hey! I'm gonna sit by you!” I watched in wonder as my roommate collapsed in silent laughter on her bed, baffled as to how a person could be that hysterical over an Al Yankovich song. Then I realized that the high pitch buzz coming from the phone was also laughter. I must have missed the pop culture class where Weird Al was explained.

“So would it completely scar Dr. Barone if I decided to write a heavy BDSM story for class?” At this point I realized the Rhys’ thought process was as difficult to follow as my roommates.

“HAHAHAHAHA! OH MY GOD!” With that howl of laugher my roommate threw her self back down on the bed and tried to muffle her laughter in her pillows. It really didn’t help any.

“Or would he be up for it?” Rhys continued over my roommates ringing laughter. “`Cause that's what your quote has me thinking.”

And as quickly as she had burst into the laughing fit, she stopped again, a slightly perplexed look on her face. “Really? `Cause I was taking it in a whole different direction.” As the song shifted, my roommate began to hum, still considering Rhys’ idea for ‘The Quote’. “Really… Fat bottom girls you make the rocking world go round...” Quietly, she absent mindedly began to sing again. “I guess I can see that, too, though…”

“Imagine” Rhys began with a wistful air to her voice. “Dr. Crane, you know, the Scarecrow, tied down on his stomach, naked, looking back over his shoulder, with his big blue eyes, staring at you, saying that.” She let out a sigh so long and drawn that it almost seemed like the phone began to sag off the desk.

“Yes well, he's your thing, not mine. I'll take Liam over him any day.” My roommate rose from her bed, her calm restored, and moved across the room to stare at her Batman Begins poster. “And batman himself... mmmmm” She was almost drooling, reminding me of Homer Simpson when faced with doughnuts. “You know, I've had a thing for Christen Bale since I was little, just not that big of a thing `til that movie…”

“Cillian strikes me as... impressionable and… delicate, much more my speed.” Mr. Burns would have been proud of the menacing tone to Rhys’ voice.

“You do so love to corrupt...” For the first time since the speaker phone had been put on, there was a lull in the conversation. I could hear the beginning of one of my roommate’s favorite songs. Just as the lack of conversation in the room grew to be unbearable, my roommate swiftly turned away from the poster on her heel and began to sing at the top of her lungs, “I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride to ride my bike! I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it where I like! Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle!” She plopped down hard in her orange mushroom chair and, humming quietly to herself, she began picking at her old, dilapidated afghan.

Suddenly, Rhys’ voice came through the phone, quiet, practiced, and calm. “Bleeding in the dark, the cell was cold and black, driven to unconsciousness, the stripes on his back, he heard a voice call out his name, his mind began to clear, in the darkness Paul replied, ‘Silas, I’m here’”

My roommate looked at me with awe. “Wait, what?” Her eyes glazed over in a silly grin for a moment before she snapped back to attention, almost scowling at the phone. “Is that from the bible? Please, tell me that is not from the bible.”

Rhys didn’t answer, but continued in her slow measured pace. “Oh my brother Silas, today when they were beating us, I thought we were going home. That when I opened up my eyes, I was gonna look at Jesus' face, but here we are together, in this dreadful place... but I will praise the lord, I will praise the lord, I Will Praise the Lord”

She jumped up from her chair, her eyes wide in shock and stormed over to the phone. I thought for sure she was going to pick it up at last, now that I needed to know what Rhys was talking about. “Worse!” She cried, placing her hands on her hips, but leaving the phone in it’s cradle. “It's Christian rock isn't it?”

“No matter what tomorrow brings, or what is has in store, I will praise the lord” Came Rhys’ voice, unwavering, ignoring my roommate’s questions.

“Rhys!” I couldn’t understand why my roommate was yelling, or why she would be so frantic over Rhys’ strange behavior.

“No,” Rhys’ voice seemed confused, as if she didn’t know what had my roommate so up set either. “It’s just Christian pop-y type stuff. Soft rock sort of deal”

“Oh my God! I just had dirty thoughts inspired by Christian SOFT rock... I am SOOOOO going to hell...”

“Dirty thoughts, eh?”

“Hey,” She began, casting an accusing glare at the phone. “I'm talking to you, and you spew out that first couple of lines, what the hell did you expect? I thought of BDSM poetry…” Her voice trailed off and her face turned bright red. I had never seen my roommate in such a state. Nothing embarrassed her. Ever. And yet, there was no mistaking it when Rhys began to laugh, a loud thick full bodied belly laugh. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. “I need a smoke,” she said quickly, grabbing her coat and hat off the hooks.

“Ok, give me two minutes to pee and I’ll meet you,” Rhys choked out between gales of laughter. A moment later the laughing stopped and the loud persistent ring of the dial tone filled the room. My roommate picked up the receiver and dropped it back into the cradle. Then she swiftly made a bee line for the door.

“I’ll be back in a while, hon.” And as the door closed behind her I heard her mumble “My roommate must think I am the spawn of Satan. BDSM poetry out of Christian pop, right under her crucifix even…”

~*~
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