Monika Basile's Blog: Confessions of a Bleeding Heart - Posts Tagged "panic"
Because Everything is Scary in the Dead of Night
The phone rings at 12:46 p.m. My heart leaps in my chest. I am shaking. There has been an accident is my first thought. I reach for it and see who is calling is not someone I talk with much and I wonder why. Voice mail picks it up before I can answer. I’m tired and roll back over and fall instantly asleep until the bleep of an incoming message wakes me up again.
I stare at the phone and figure that I better listen. It must be important. It must be very important for someone to call at this hour. I press the voice mail and hit speaker so I can hear well. And here is where the darn imagination gets going…
“Oooohhh. Ummmmm. Ahhhh. Owww….” I hear a woman’s voice. My blood turns to ice water in my veins. Is she hurt? What is going on? I hear a man’s voice in the background. He sounds angry.
Oh my God! She called for help! She is trying to get help and hit my number by accident! Oh God I better call the police! I hang up the voice message and flick on the lamp. My body trembles as I go to dial 911. I realize I don’t know her address off hand.
Wait! What if that wasn’t a cry of pain and one of pleasure instead? I better listen to the entire message…
A repeat of the ooohhh’s and ahhh’s and I listen further. A man’s voice, “I can’t believe he did that! I am going to kick his…”
And her voice interrupting, “Leave him alone!” and more groaning and moaning and some heavy breathing. What the hell is going on? I am up and pacing now, listening intently. Afraid I may be missing someone’s secret code of begging for help.
He is yelling now. Oh God she must be in trouble or is she having a wild kinky night? Which is it damn it!!!
She is louder now, “What do you expect? He can’t be normal being around us.” And more moans and more groans but I think not passionate ones. “Don’t leave the bedroom door open. I’m cold.” And “Ahhh and owww!”
Finally I hear her speak again. “Jack! I love you but you are just bad…”
Oops. I am eavesdropping on a very private conversation.
“Jack-o-lantern!” she shouts as if she is also wincing in pain. “You are a bad, bad, bad boy.”
I go to hang up the voice mail and as I stare at the phone, embarrassed and feeling stupid, I hear one final sentence, “You are so lucky you are so cute because you are such a bad cat tripping me like that.”
Ta da!
A voice mail lasts three minutes. Three minutes with a thousand scenarios rushing through my brain. But not once did I consider the danger to be coming from a feline. An ax murderer yes, but a kitty? Nope. My imagination just isn’t wild enough for that.
Monika M. Basile
I stare at the phone and figure that I better listen. It must be important. It must be very important for someone to call at this hour. I press the voice mail and hit speaker so I can hear well. And here is where the darn imagination gets going…
“Oooohhh. Ummmmm. Ahhhh. Owww….” I hear a woman’s voice. My blood turns to ice water in my veins. Is she hurt? What is going on? I hear a man’s voice in the background. He sounds angry.
Oh my God! She called for help! She is trying to get help and hit my number by accident! Oh God I better call the police! I hang up the voice message and flick on the lamp. My body trembles as I go to dial 911. I realize I don’t know her address off hand.
Wait! What if that wasn’t a cry of pain and one of pleasure instead? I better listen to the entire message…
A repeat of the ooohhh’s and ahhh’s and I listen further. A man’s voice, “I can’t believe he did that! I am going to kick his…”
And her voice interrupting, “Leave him alone!” and more groaning and moaning and some heavy breathing. What the hell is going on? I am up and pacing now, listening intently. Afraid I may be missing someone’s secret code of begging for help.
He is yelling now. Oh God she must be in trouble or is she having a wild kinky night? Which is it damn it!!!
She is louder now, “What do you expect? He can’t be normal being around us.” And more moans and more groans but I think not passionate ones. “Don’t leave the bedroom door open. I’m cold.” And “Ahhh and owww!”
Finally I hear her speak again. “Jack! I love you but you are just bad…”
Oops. I am eavesdropping on a very private conversation.
“Jack-o-lantern!” she shouts as if she is also wincing in pain. “You are a bad, bad, bad boy.”
I go to hang up the voice mail and as I stare at the phone, embarrassed and feeling stupid, I hear one final sentence, “You are so lucky you are so cute because you are such a bad cat tripping me like that.”
Ta da!
A voice mail lasts three minutes. Three minutes with a thousand scenarios rushing through my brain. But not once did I consider the danger to be coming from a feline. An ax murderer yes, but a kitty? Nope. My imagination just isn’t wild enough for that.
Monika M. Basile
