Call Me?

For Round 10 of our Three-Minute Fiction contest, we asked you to send a story in the form of a voice mail message. Our winner was “Sorry for Your Loss.”

Llama i i
iStockPhoto.com
Llama
iStockPhoto.com

The llama was not my fault.

Don't hang up!

You probably hung up.

How long is a voice mail message? Three minutes?

Look, you're going to have to call me back. There is no way I'm gonna be able to explain everything in three minutes.

You're not gonna call me back.

Ok, I get that. Maybe I even deserve it. If I was on a blind date with someone I thought was trying to steal my car, I wouldn't call them back either. Or listen to their message.

And I know the thing with Karl was confusing. That's his real name, Karl. He introduced himself as me because he thinks he's funny. He's a performance artist — I know, that explains a lot, right? The casual nudity at least.

I am a much more normal person than this, I swear. I have a boring college degree, I have a boring job, I have a boring car — yeah, I have my own car, for the record.

This is what I get for trying to plan a creative date. The way you were described to me, I didn't think the regular dinner and a movie thing would cut it.

I guess I didn't think it all the way through.

I should have warned you not to wear heels. But I don't think I can fairly be blamed for what that mime said to you. What kind of a mime talks, anyway?
Not to mention the pornographic balloon animals. That was not in the online reviews.

Can I also just say that my ex-girlfriend is not the best authority on what kind of a human being I am? And that I had no idea she works at that coffee shop? I never thought she was the kind of person who would do — that — to someone's drink. She's really changed.

I know, I'm not explaining myself very well. And I haven't even gotten to the llama yet. Or why that man seemed to think I was the guy from the internet video with the trampoline and the whipped cream and the cat. The guy in that video does look a lot like me, but I promise, I don't even have a trampoline. Or a cat. But I would have a cat — I like cats. Unlike the guy in the internet video, apparently.

I'm really sorry that when that little kid threw his ice cream at me, some of it got on you. You can send me the dry cleaning bill.

I'm sorry too that I laughed a little bit when your hair got tangled in the Ferris wheel. I laugh when I'm nervous.

And I swear, I had nothing to do with the skywriting. That might sound like a weird coincidence, but your name isn't that uncommon.

And I didn't know that you're lactose intolerant. Or that that word is a euphemism for — well, I think we both remember. Or that fear of geese is, like, a thing.

Normally after screwing up this bad I wouldn't even bother to call someone, because I got enough rejection and disappointment, you know? But the thing is, I think we really connected. One bright flash, right, a spark, when you looked at me and smiled. It was just before the goose chased you and you fell into the lake. That was Karl's goose. His name is also Karl.

Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is ... I really like you. So maybe, if you bothered to actually listen to this, you might ...

Call me?

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