Ring! Ring!

Years ago, when I was still with the ex, I had just moved into a new apartment which meant getting a new phone number as well. Not long after our service was established, we started getting messages meant for the person who had our number before us. I believe that his name was Louis, and whoever he was, he clearly led an interesting life. One message informed us that our Ford truck had been repossessed. Once I had to explain to a lawyer that I was not Louis and that Louis' number was not longer Louis' but ours. I once got a message from "Carter" telling me the time, date, and location of the next "event," which, as my friend with very naughty proclivities explained to me, was a member's only sex party. I think the best message we got, however, came from some bank, I can't remember the name so I'll call them "Bank of New England." The voice of the woman leaving the message had a thick, Long Island accent and you could tell from her tone that she was tired and detached. She'd already left countless messages like this one and it was nothing more than routine for her... until she got to that one piece of information which made her pause, cough a bit and then rush it out a bit to quick, betraying her discomfort: "Hello, Mr. Lopez, I'm Shiela cawling on behalf of the Bank of New England regawrding a purchase you made earlier today at... Nasty Pig. You were chawrged $8.97 when it should have been $89.73 so the difference will show up on your bill as a separate purchase. Thank you and goodnight." One day, I'd like to meet Louis. You know... to give him his messages.