Over the past couple of days my serene world has been interrupted by wrong number calls to my cell phone. Each time the woman on the other end of the wireless connect is saying hello hello is Josie there? When I tell her she has the wrong number she apologizes and hangs up. But then she calls again hours later and we have the exact same conversation.
So who is this Josie gal and why does that Woman-caller want to talk to her?
All kinds of scenarios have invaded my imagination and have kept me thoroughly entertained.
I imagine Josie could be a drug dealer and the Woman-caller is looking to score some Acapulco gold, 4:20, purple haze, meth, vicodin, or some waffle dust. In a drugged daze the Woman-caller copied Josie’s number incorrectly from the bathroom stall wall.
I imagine this Josie gal could be a madam. The Woman-caller has fallen on economic hard times after losing her job at the local Walmart and has decided to join the world’s oldest profession. Men have always admired her double jointed hips, so why let the hips get old and rusty when they can earn some cash and help pay the mortgage. Unfortunately the Woman-caller lost Josie’s ad from the back of the porn magazine and is trying desperately to remember the number.
I imagine the Woman caller could be a potential stalker. Josie gave her a fake phone number after a one-night-stand of lesbian experimentation that wasn’t all that good. Luckily for Josie the tryst was at the Woman-caller’s apartment and not at Josie’s rent controlled apartment overlooking the ocean.
Could Josie be a dog owner whose ill mannered German Shepherd dog bit the Woman-caller when the Woman-caller was hiking in Griffith Park? The dog was illegally off the leash. There were wounds. There was blood. Aaah but Josie’s a selfish naughty dog owner and doesn’t want to take responsibility; hence, the wrong contact number.
As I travel through my day I find myself staring at the faces of woman who pass me by wondering if she’s Josie or she’s the Woman-caller. Sometimes I snarl at them all caught up in one of my scenarios. They look at me puzzled, and a couple times have flashed me the finger spewing a few choice words. I don’t care.
Imagination is fun.
So who is this Josie gal and why does that Woman-caller want to talk to her?
All kinds of scenarios have invaded my imagination and have kept me thoroughly entertained.
I imagine Josie could be a drug dealer and the Woman-caller is looking to score some Acapulco gold, 4:20, purple haze, meth, vicodin, or some waffle dust. In a drugged daze the Woman-caller copied Josie’s number incorrectly from the bathroom stall wall.
I imagine this Josie gal could be a madam. The Woman-caller has fallen on economic hard times after losing her job at the local Walmart and has decided to join the world’s oldest profession. Men have always admired her double jointed hips, so why let the hips get old and rusty when they can earn some cash and help pay the mortgage. Unfortunately the Woman-caller lost Josie’s ad from the back of the porn magazine and is trying desperately to remember the number.
I imagine the Woman caller could be a potential stalker. Josie gave her a fake phone number after a one-night-stand of lesbian experimentation that wasn’t all that good. Luckily for Josie the tryst was at the Woman-caller’s apartment and not at Josie’s rent controlled apartment overlooking the ocean.
Could Josie be a dog owner whose ill mannered German Shepherd dog bit the Woman-caller when the Woman-caller was hiking in Griffith Park? The dog was illegally off the leash. There were wounds. There was blood. Aaah but Josie’s a selfish naughty dog owner and doesn’t want to take responsibility; hence, the wrong contact number.
As I travel through my day I find myself staring at the faces of woman who pass me by wondering if she’s Josie or she’s the Woman-caller. Sometimes I snarl at them all caught up in one of my scenarios. They look at me puzzled, and a couple times have flashed me the finger spewing a few choice words. I don’t care.
Imagination is fun.
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