So, wrong numbers are pretty high up on my list of phone calls I enjoy. Yesterday I got a really good one.
My phone rang, so I answered it.
Me: Hello?
Quavery old woman voice: Lois?
M: No, I think you have a wrong number.
QOW: Oh, I'm sorry. Is Lois there?
M: No, I think this is a wrong number.
QOW: Well, I was trying to reach David, really. I have a question for him.
M: I think this is a wrong number. This is my cell phone, and I don't know any Davids. (Not strictly true, but I don't know her David, so it's OK.)
QOW: The question I had was, how much did his gas bill come to?
M: I really couldn't say, because I don't know David.
QOW: Oh, is this a wrong number?
M: Yes, I think it is.
QOW: Oh, sorry to bother you. Goodbye.
M: Thank you. Goodbye.
You are seriously, messed up-dly too nice. You couldn't have effected a British accent and said that it would 12 bob tuppence, guv'nor? Or that Lois had just left for a waitress in Reno? Or that the gas bill was now subject to interest, compounded continuously, and so was going to be $800 - and that by tomorrow it would be $950 and her credit rating would be around 300? You are a sad, feeble minded little person.
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