Fiction_Prank Caller

Sheila ate some pills. She used her spit to swallow a handful of goods. Moments earlier she exited from the Pike Place Medical Clinic where Lorne worked as a secretary.

"Pike Place Medical Clinic, this is Lorne," he said, answering the toll free line.

Sheila sat next to the sickies awaiting their medicine in the clinic lobby.

"Oh really," Lorne mouthed with a yawn. "Yes, one moment."

Lorne magnificently rolled his green eyes into the back of his skull. His mouth opened just enough for his right finger to go in, signally a barfing gesture. He used the push cap on his ink pen to transfer the call.

Lorne looked at the silent phone with disgust as he spun around in his fancy chair.

Sheila enjoyed Lorne's performace as she exited the clinic. Down the sunless street in Post Alley strutted a tickled Sheila who came upon a "public payphone". She dialed the toll free number.

"Pike Place Medical Clinic, this is Lorne."

"Kike-face hepatitis prickle?"

"Um," Lorne said. "One moment?"

Lorne put Sheila's random call on hold. He released a quick peck of a smile. "Hepatitis prickle?" he said to himself. "Did she not understand me or has my mush-mouth gotten worse?", he thought.

Lorne picked up the line.

"He's, uh, in a meeting. Who may I ask is calling?"

Sheila silently flashed a mouthful of glee. Her white teeth sparkled and her cheeks ripped like crackling wax. "Oh dear," she said in a rather high voice, different from her previous monotone. Sheila cleared her throat and spit on the curb. Her new voice was very sexy, very tantalizing.

"Tell Dr. Pumper-niggle-towski that I need him. I love him. He must return my call, stat."

Sheila fell over with laughter. Her stomach clinched tighter than a baby hole. Her soccer legs kicked up and down.

Lorne looked across an empty clinic with a dizzy stare. In his mind he attempted to quantify the exact number, within a lenient margin, of crazy women he would encounter before snapping like a supermodel ankle on a shotty Asian runway.

"First of all, saying stat doesn't really make me want to do anything faster. Second, unless I know your name, I won't be able to deliver your message to Dr., uh, blimpy-duckle-titts-son."

"Is that so?" Sheila said with a smidgeon of status.

"So," Lorne said. He stressed the o for a few annoying seconds. "Sooo."

There was static on the line. Haunted signals of echoing nothing. Mute.

"I think you're cute Lorne. I'd love to come and fuck you."

Lorne's eyes bugged out like a pooping turtle. He dropped the phone. Somehow one of his shoes became tangled in the dangling cord. Sheila giggled through four seconds of classical music before the line went dead.

Sheila walked back into the clinic and took a seat in the back of the wacko jail where she conspicuously locked in her new toy Lorne. A call jumped like a salmon in a stream, caught quickly by the grizzly paw of old Lorne.

"One moment," Lorne sighed.

Sheila pranced up to the counter just as Lorne put the call through. He brandished a face of insanity when his eyes caught hers. He fell back into droll receptionist mode. "Pike Place Medical Clinic" he said as if he were on the phone.

"Hi. I'm here for Dr. Crackle-daggle-googoo."

Lorne's eyes bugged out like a combusting pimple on the back of a freshman.

"One moment," he said before freezing into a vessel of concrete.

Sheila pulled out a stick of fruity smear and smudged it across her thick wet lips. Lorne remained stone as the phone light up with aggressive red lights.

"Well, when you see the good doctor, tell him that I'll be in my office."

"Your office."

"Yeah, the phone booth in Post Alley. Tell him I'm trippin balls on some new sample pills and desperately request the thick cock of Dr. Hump-me-pink-arse-ole."

Sheila busted out of the clinic and shot towards the phone booth she called an office.

Lorne looked around the office for someone to tell, anyone to enjoy this strange moment with, but could not find another breathing thing. The phone rang.

"Pike Place Medical Clinic."

"Dr. RIMJOB-CANCER-FOUNDER-SON PLEASE!"

Sheila was screaming and crying and slobbering something awful.

"One moment."

Lorne put Sheila on hold for a few seconds before cutting the line. He looked at the big black machine. He noticed a red flash before hearing the ring of the bell on account of his enormous eyes. They were so big when he was born that the doctor called him retarded.

"Pike Place Medical…"

"Don't hang up on me Lorney baby."

"Who is this?"

"I can't talk to you right now sugar-tiger. I need the doctor."

"Dr.?"

"Dr. Bowser-loofy-poot-toot!"

"Look, I'm afraid that I can't."

"Sorry?"

"I'm not lonely enough to leave my desk and lose my job, just for some strange bang," Lorne said.

"You bastard."

Sheila began to hit the phone against the back of the booth. Lorne, sipping on his cold coffee, pretending to conquer the daily word jumble, shrieked like a boiled lobster when Sheila ran into the clinic with the severed phone in her hand.

"Where is he? Where is Dr. Smiggles-biggles-dickles-breath?"

Sheila hit Lorne on the head many times with the decapitated phone.

"I have problems that require immediate attention. I need help! I don't like you," Sheila cried. "You lied to me on the phone. I watched you make faces at all of the callers too. You're mean, mean!"

"I thought it was funny, when you said the doctor's name like that."

"Dr. McSkittle-dobbie-dip-dip-daboo?"

"Yes, that!"

"Bang me Lorne. Knock my socks off like a son-of-a-bitch."

Lorne lay barely recognizable in a swamp of his own blood. His big boulder eyes were swollen shut with dried red. The wires from the phone rested in his throat like spaghetti. Sheila unraveled his belt and slid his beige trousers down. Lorne was wearing a tight pair of undies. Despite his recent beating, he was extremely aroused. She grabbed it and put him in her mouth.

"Say it," she commanded.

"Say who?"

Sheila came up for air.

"Say the doctor's name!"

Sheila went back down.

"Dr. Himmer-porky-tutu-tan?"

Sheila sucked harder and harder with every silly name. Lorne came in her mouth. She got up and spit his stuff all over the phone. It stuck there like some magnet goo. A red light flashed and a buzz came on.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Sheila asked, wiping her mouth as she stepped towards the exit door.

"It's probably some insane person looking to use you for her for sick pleasure."

A wasted Lorne twitched his limp body back into his pants. The phone buzzed again. Sheila stood in the threshold of the open door.

"See you soon."

Lorne lifted his battered head to watch her leave the clinic. His grotesque bug eyes captured her sinister grin as the door slammed shut. He got up to answer the phone.

"Pike Place Medical Clinic," he said, longingly wondering if she would call again.


PRANK CALLER.


JASON ANFINSEN
APRIL 17, 20008
SEATTLE AMERICA