UP THE TELEMARKETER

Greetings Hairballers,

With all the goings on in the world, I thought it was time to lighten up and take on our common enemy with a little monologue.

Enjoy and hairballs to them.

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UP THE TELEMARKETER©

        

FMHorner

         Hello?

         Yes, this is she.

         I’m so glad you called.  I needed to talk to someone. I’ve been terribly distressed ever since Edith had that incident on the sliding board and broke her trombone.  Well, it’s more bent than broken.  I told her she was too big to fit on that thing.  You should have seen the dust fly when it collapsed, the slide not the trombone. It looks more like a French horn now but Edith doesn’t know how to play one.

         She’s thinking of taking lessons rather than buying a new instrument.  I told her that will probably cost more but Edith says it will broaden her horizons.  She is the horizon given the size of her rear end but, of course, I would never say that.  Then you have to add in the cost replacing the neighbor’s kids sliding board.

         This whole mess has cut into our bingo time.  You don’t play bingo, do you?  No.  Too bad.  You could replace Edith on Thursday afternoons.

         Hold on, that’s her on the call waiting.

         Hello, Edith.

         Oh my, he did, you did, that’s awful.

         Have a double bourbon and lie down dear, it will calm your nerves.

         I know it’s only 2 o’clock in the afternoon, but this is a medical emergency.  Call me when you wake up.  I’m on the phone now with a nice young man who can fix your trombone.

         I’m back. That was Edith.  The music teacher said she didn’t have a French horn, just a busted trombone.  I could have told her that for free.  She tried blowing through the mouthpiece to show him and the bent slide thing flew off and smacked him upside the head.  Knocked him out cold.  Edith said he had a complete personality change when he came to--started screaming at her to get out and waving his arms.

         She’s all upset. Poor thing’s home swilling bourbon like there’s no tomorrow.  Did I mention that Edith drinks?

         Anyway, I told her you could probably fix that trombone of hers.

         You can’t?  You’re selling life insurance?  Well, why didn’t you say so? I don’t need any but you might want to call that music teacher.  

         Bye now.