The Phone Call

Funny thing about getting cracked in the skull. You sleep a lot. Which might not be a good thing, but I'm not so sure I feel safe going to a doctor right now.

Last night's phone call was from someone named Janet. This, I ascertained, only after a serious of yeah's, umm's, and sure's from my side of the conversation. I wish I could remember why I never invested in caller ID. That would have saved me some trouble.

Anyway, Janet could tell that something was a little askew and made it clear that she was coming right over.

Not sure how I feel about this, so I told her that it might be too dangerous in case the bad guys came back. I assured her that I was OK and that maybe we should meet in a day or two, when I felt better.

She pissed and moaned about it, emphasizing how important everything was without being terribly specific, but finally relented.

Truth is, I could care less if those guys come back. I needed some time to figure out if Janet was the friend she seemed to be.

I swear, if some guy with a cheesy moustache named Teddy shows up at my door, I'm having myself committed.