Daily Prompt: Someone or something you can’t communicate with through writing (a baby, a pet, an object) can understand every single word you write today, for one day only. What do you tell them? (Thanks for the suggestion, Chic Prune!)
Dear telephone. Welcome to my office. Sorry you’ve been living in the basement all this time. You look familiar. Judging by the layer of grime you had all over you I’m guessing I used you maybe 15 years ago? I can see the tape marks where I had phone numbers taped to your handle. That might have been way back when I actually used telephones for fun. Anyway, I hope you feel a little bit better living with us humans and not in that box full of cables and other grimy junk.
I’m afraid you’ll find your life here upstairs in my office just barely more exciting than it was in the basement. Alas, your only purpose here is to let me know my fax machine has a dial tone, and perhaps once or twice I may actually make a phone call using you, although you’ll probably find I’ll reach for my cell phone more often since it has caller ID, speakerphone and my contacts list.
I like your new ring, but I miss knowing whom we’re blowing off. The old phone used to announce the caller, who was usually someone called “Toll Free Call” or “Wireless Caller”. We don’t know anyone by those names, even if we were inclined to answer, which we aren’t. That phone is still sitting in the kitchen and probably still works, but lights are flashing and… well, it looks like a confused mess that we don’t want to have to sort out.
So settle yourself in and don’t get too freaked out by feeling like we need to be answering calls that you’re getting. I’m sorry that you have to go through this, but I’m not changing my ways. I guess I could unplug you if you wanted me to. Do you? Ok, you’re fine with being an unused instrument of meaningful connection to the world. Thank you for understanding.