Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Prank phone calls are simply opportunities to make new friends.

“Dayman, aaaaahhaaaaahaaaa fighter of the Nightman. . .”

Watching Dr. Who on the back patio at midnight when the wife is away for the weekend is a perfect idea. I recommend it to anybody.

A Seattle number eh? I get wrong numbers from time to time. Living in Redding and having a Seattle area number invites that sort of thing. I tend to assume that these mistaken calls will be more interesting than anything intentional so I pick up the phone.


I hear a man’s voice. It sounds like he’s at a party.

“Hello, can I help you?” expounding on my initial contact.


Normally I would continue with my episode and ignore what has happened but today I am an asshole. Today I dial the number.

“Hello” I hear.

“Yeah, you just called me?” I respond.


Who was that? Why did he call me? It is officially the AM so I assume it is some sort of booty call or prank. I’ve got nothing better to do so I dial again.

The number rings, several times, but then is picked up and hung up within a second. I like to think I am fomenting paranoia.

I dial again. This time it only rings twice before it is hung up. I’ve got all the time in the world. Something about oysters or opportunity or something like that.

I could dial again but I don’t. Perhaps I will wait until I inevitably wake up in four hours’ time and leave a message then. I would hear his voice. I assume that by the message I would at least know his name. Nevertheless I create one for him. Jared David Burrows. Yeah, that sounds like the name of somebody who would call me at this time.

Hello Jared, I’m sorry I couldn’t get a hold of you last night. I look forward to speaking with you soon. I have lots of time on my hands these days. . . you know what I mean. I’m sure I’ll speak with you soon.

Yeah, that would be a perfect message. I would blow his mind. Confuse the shit out of some stranger and get him to start checking his shadow. I like the idea of forcibly entering one’s dreams, strangers don’t ask my permission so why should I?

Then again, I tend to shy from adversity. Sure I still wake before seven, the stranger’s number stored in my phone. I am sure he is asleep now. Even if he is not, he probably lives at least seven hundred miles away and who gives a fuck what he imagines he might be able to do to me, I’m the one with nothing to lose here.

Even though it is getting light, I roll over and fall back asleep. We all have regrets: opportunities missed, chances neglected, might have beens that never will be. I guess this is simply mine for this week. We all have crosses we must bear.


Iscah Mara said...

a divining prediction:
you'll either get arrested or published, flogged or revered, exiled or exalted, left to die hungry in the streets or fed on the bellies of virgins.

Julia said...

Hello Andrew,
My name is Julia Kooy and I live in Minneapolis, MN. I got bored and Googled my last name and your blog showed as one of the top results.I apologize if this is weird, but Kooy just isn't that common of last name so i got curious and clicked around your blog for a while. I wonder if we're distantly related? Anyhow, keep rocking the Kooy name and your blog.
"Champion of the sun. You're a master of karate and friendship for everyone."

Kooy To The World said...

Oh my lord, you are a Kooy! I enjoy being googled (I like to think of it as being electronically ogled) so thank you.

I've seen "Kooy" on the side of a fleet of trucks and I'm not related to them so who knows if we are indeed related? My grandpa Ralph moved from Canada to Lynden, Wa I believe, and I think he was either born in the Netherlands or his parents were because he spoke fluent Dutch and would employ it every time a telemarketer called. If you want to check out any more Kooy love, my sister has a website for her jewelry

Kooy To The World said...

Oh, and my brother has what some may call flash fiction but what I call beautiful, drunken, poetic discourses with the ether at
Hell, everyone should check that out so I guess this comment is a public service.

Holy shit! I tried to Google my other sister, (suddenly my secret definition of googling is making me feel dirty) Raeben, because she supposedly has a dula/placenta preparation website and Google auto-filled my request with some guy named Raeben Kareem who stabbed somebody in the Midwest. Not only is it exciting that somebody else is named Raeben but I'm pretty sure my mom is wrong in saying that Raeben means "gentle lamb."

And now strangers can internet stalk my family.