That infuriating and mysterious battle between two common household objects --- both made of white porcelain --- which causes untold headaches, especially if there's only
one person in the house at the time. You know the drill --- the telephone can be "silent" for hours, yet as soon as you
plop down on the toilet and are in the middle of a lengthy crap, THAT'S precisely when the 0%!$&#@ phone decides to ring, and so you have to awkwardly jam a tissue-wad up your
butt and hold it there while you
penguin-strut with your trousers down around your ankles all the way across the living room to grab the receiver with your messy hand, only to either (1) have the caller hang up just as you are lifting the receiver, or (2) have it be just either a telemarketer or a
bill-collector who'd dialed the wrong number, anyway, or (3) have the caller be a bored/
crybaby/mooching neighbor who had nothing important to say/ask, but just called to shoot the
breeze, whine about his miserable life (which he could easily improve if he'd just start being more responsible/diligent), or ask for a
ride, assistance with some ordinary task that he really could accomplish himself, or the loan of money/a vehicle/tools. So you'll have totally
wasted your time/effort --- not to mention half a bottle of Lysol to disinfect the phone afterwards --- to answer the phone that time, when the call turned out to be non-urgent and so you could have just let the answering
machine take it.
Judge: Next
case --- throne
vs. phone. Phone, you are hereby accused of intentionally waiting to ring until your owner goes to take a
dump. How do you plead?
Phone: Guilty as charged, Your
Honor, but I can't really help it... I am unable to ring if there is nobody calling, and if there is a ring-signal sent through the telephone wires, I have to ring whether I want to or not. I don't like to bother my owner anymore than he does; I'm just doing what I was designed to do; it's the inconsiderate callers who should be the real defendants here.
Judge: Good point ---
case dismissed.
