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For a Good Time, Call…(Or, What’s the Number for 911?)



*Ring, Ring, Ri*

“Hello Mr. Hunt. Your mission, shou…”

“Wait. Wait, Hold on..Gotta…gotta catch my breath here…Whew!”

“What are you doing Mr. Hunt?”


“You ready now?”

“Sure, go for it.”

“Thank you. Now, Mr. Hunt, your mission sh…”

“Wait a minute. Don’t you want to know why I was running around the entire city?”

“Not especially. Mr. Hunt. What you do on your time is your own business. Besides, from I’ve heard, you’re an avid runner. You practically never walk.”

“Well, that’s true, but…”

“May I finish please Mr. Hunt? I Don’t have all day. I need to brief 007, in ten minutes, Spy Kids in 45 minutes and Austin Powers in an hour.”

“…”

“Now, as I was saying, Your missi…”

“Let me stop you right there, friend.”

“This is highly unprofessional!”

“You want to know what’s unprofessional? This whole thing here. Who was the jackass who came up with the idea of calling me on a payphone?”

“I’m quite sure I don’t know and I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“It sure as shit is, Mister Phone-Voice Guy. Do you know how many payphones there are in Toledo?”

“I have no idea, 300?”

“Twelve! Twelve damn phones!”

“Well, Toledo can’t be that large, it is Toledo, after all.”

“It’s 84.12 square miles, with a population of 287,208! This place is too big to pull these shenanigans on a guy in his early fift…, uhh, mid-forties.”

“Mr. Hunt, the Impossible Mission Force does not partake in shenanigans. Now if I can just get this over with…”

“’Get on this over with’ my scrawny, Scientologist ass! I busted my kidney with all this running! And you don’t even want to know how raw my nipples are right now.”

“Sigh. Look, I’m sorry Mr. Hunt, but that’s really not my department. Now if we can…”

“Shove it. Take a wild guess as to how many payphones there are in America.”

“I…”

“Wanna know? I looked it up, because this whole thing is bullshit. In 1995 there were more than 2.6 millionpayphones in this country. Know how many there are now? One hundred thousand! That’s quite a drop, wouldn’t you say? You’re more likely to get hit by lightning on the day you win the lottery than find a phone!”

“I told you, Mr. Hunt, it’s not my department to come up with these things, we have a whole section devoted to that. You’re lucky the call wasn’t in a submarine.”

“You people spend all day on your bulbous, fish belly-white, flabby buttocks, ordering us field operatives around like we’re frickin’ trained monkeys. Not giving a damn what we have to go through on a regular basis. I had to physically touch Philip Seymore Hoffman! Imagine having to lay hands on that doughy physique. I practically dipped my hands in lava afterward, just to feel clean.”

“Enough of this! We need to do this before the damn phone self-destructs.”

“Smart move guy. Let’s make it 99,999 payphones in this country. Is this all part of your sick scheme to rid this great nation of all our coin-operated telephonic devices? I’m on to you.”

“YOUR MISSION, MR. HUNT, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO AC…”

 “Nope.”

*Click*



This post first appeared on Eighty-Four Glyde, please read the originial post: here

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For a Good Time, Call…(Or, What’s the Number for 911?)

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