There's a hole

Had a dream last night our apartment sprung yet another leak, this time in the ceiling above Mattson's bed. It was thunderstorming and several friends were over at our place drinking beer in the kitchen when it started. We push the mattress against the wall and put a bucket down on the floor, but it's coming through hard. Everyone is hush as I make the call to Parzad Feyrow*, our landlord.

Ringing. Ringing. No answer. That bastard. I decide to leave a message. I'm gonna go for it. I'm gonna do it all nasty like. I'm not going to hold back any of this latent anger. I'm gonna make it manifest in the worst message conceivable:

"Hi. This is Lee from 9073 Pioneer.* We've got another leak. It's in a different spot now. It's in the front room.

"Parzad, I'm so FUCKING sick. So fucking sick of living in this SHIT HOLE. Now you better get your miserly FUCKING ASS the FUCK over here right now and -"

But for some reason everyone listening has started laughing. And laughing loud enough that I know it's being picked up by the phone and being recorded in the message. I stop my rant and chuckle a little too. I hit the seven on the phone to erase the message and start over, but it's doesn't work. The voice mail box lady never speaks and the message has gone through, incomplete and with laughter.

We all keep laughing and go back to drinking beer.


*Some names and places have been changed to protect those parties involved