It was a crazy place to live, no one could deny that. Although it had its benefits, 5 people in the same apartment often had its difficulties too…..

Chuck walked into the apartment, after a long day at work. There was Maple, on the phone as always. Harry and Ted were in the corner, playing cards, as usual. Neither of them had had real jobs in about 2 years. Myrna was making use of the shared bathroom, hogging it up as usual, preparing herself for a night on the town.

“Hey guys” said Chuck. (line) “WASSUP MY BROTHA?” said Ted looking up from his hand. “How was the day at the office, honey?” he snickerd. “It was fine, Ted, it was fine” Chuck mumbled sharply. He was slowing becoming annoyed with his fellow roomates.

He glanced over at Maple. There she was, jibberjabbering away. She spent most of her day on the telephone which often caused the others, like Chuck, to miss important phone calls. Even though they had the “call waiting” option, Maple seemed to not know how to utilise that function, by simply putting her conversation on pause, to answer what might be an urgent messagae for someone else. She was also lousy at giving messages. Once Chuck’s foot doctor had called him to remind him of an appointment, and Maple, being the genius she was, promptly told him “The soot de car is where he left the ointment.” Maple was not a bright gal.

“Any messages for me today, Maple?” he sighed, almost wishing he hadn’t asked the question. “Anyone call?”

It took a few seconds to register with Maple, that Chuck was indeed talking to her. “Huh? What? Oh yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said glancing down on a note pad by the phone. (line) “SOME ONE STUPID CALLED…SOMETIME TODAY…ABOUT SOMETHING TRIVIAL.” Then she went right back into her conversation on the telephone.

Chuck sighed. He slowing walked over towards Maple. Maybe she had a brain after all? Maybe she wrote down the actual message and only repeated it that way? Maybe it was too much to hope for he thought? He looked down at the notepad. It read: “Blah blah someone stupid… blah blah whatever time it is now……. blah blah please tell chuck it’s important he gets this message about blah blah something dumb blah blah.”

Chuck could almost feel his heart stop. He could feel his blood pressure rising. This would make the 20th important message he’d missed this month due to Maple’s incomptence at taking notes in addition to her addiction to jibberjabbering all day on the phone, hours and hours at a time. He wanted to choke her. He really wanted to bloody choke her. But he didn’t. (line) “OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! WILL YOU HANG UP THE PHONE?” he shouted. Maple was momentarily speechless. He looked directly at her, holding the message in his hand. “Um….” he stammered. “Do you even…. remotely…. even just a little bit, ….remotely,… at all…. remember what the message was about?” She briefly paused her conversation, to crack her bubblegum and say, “What?! I already told you. It was someone stupid about something dumb. Okay? I don’t re-mem-ber!” Cracking her bubblegum again she quipped, “Okay i told you okay? Like oh my god, what-ever.” Then she proceed to finish up the conversation.

(line) “THIS IS GREAT. THIS GIVES ME HOPE. THANKS.” Chuck said quietly, sarcastically as he crumpled the paper in his hand, then tossing it onto the floor.

Maple looked up again, “You know,” she started, “I did vacumn today. I hope you’re not going to leave that there.”

Then she went back into her conversation, “Oh my god wait till you hear what my selfish, RUDE roomate just did, like after i cleaned all day!” she said to the party on the other end, continuing to babble on and on and on.

Myrna took that inopportune time to walk out of the bathroom, all dolled up, asking for a critique of her outfit of choice for that evening. “Soooooooooo,” she said excitedly, “how do i look??!” Myra was a bit stuck on herself most days.

(line) “MUST BE CASUAL SEX DAY AT SCHOOL……… KIDDING!!” chucked Harry, with Ted snickering along.

“Oh my god, you’re such a pig Harry! This is modest and tasteful as well as super stylish! Is your mind always in the toilet?” she said harshly. “What? it was just a joke?!” said Harry defensively. “But you do look like a trollop” he chuckled, “and that’s putting it tastefully.”

Looking up from her conversation, Maple giggled, “Oh my god your not seriously gonna wear that are you?”

Just then, Maple noticed something a little sparkly glistening from Myrna’s ears. “Oh my god…. are those my earings?” Maple and Myrna hadn’t quite been on speaking terms since the argument they had at “Big Joe’s Bar and Grill” several weeks back. Myrna had inadvertanty stolen Maple’s boyfriend, Chet E. Gomaniac, the most popular guy in town, and in doing so, had made Maple the social reject of the year. “I’ll call you back!” Maple said hurriedly nearly dropping the telephone. Chuck had never seen her put down a phone so fast in her life. She rushed over to Mryna. (line) “OMG. FIRST YOU STEAL MY POPULARITY, THEN MY EARRINGS!” she said indignantly.

“Au Contraire, these are my earrings!” Mryna quipped, “Get over yourself!”

As the girls argued and the boys played cards, throwing in an occasional obnoxious comment or two to keep the row going, Chuck thought to himself these were all the very reasons he had wanted to move out. But then he thought, if he did leave, so would his entertainment. So he sat back in the chair, trying to make sense of Maple’s phone message, thinking who could possibly have telephoned, listening to the bickering. It was good to be home.

Some kid in baggy pants sauntered up, kind of crab walking Martin thought.

“*Wassup my brotha? You must be Martin?” he spoke in a staccato speech which Martin figured was supposed to be a rap.

“Ah, dude, you’re not…” Martin looked at his appointed tour guide wonderingly.

“*Au contraire mon ami,” the other kid barked. “I am french, so therefore I can be whom I please, ya dig?”

“Err…but isn’t that an English accent?” Martin asked.

“Australian mate, but hey, here ya get to be free to be whoever you are, know what I’m sayin? I’m Doug.”

The pleasantries over, Doug led Martin through the crowded halls. He had dropped the rap voice in favour of his real one, but kept it low so only Martin could hear him.

“See Marty, nobody in this school is who they appear to be. Watch those girls over there mate.”

Martin did so, his eyes finding a group of young girls gathered around a locker.

They seemed to all be blond, even the very same shade…and all dressed very similar. The one in the centre of the crowd was blissfully chatting into a phone.

Another blond came out of nowhere, shouldering others out of her way until she planted her feet in front of the phone talker.

“*Oh for crying out loud! WILL YOU HANG UP THE PHONE!!”

The phone talker raised her eyes, said a few more words, then closed the phone with a snap. The other girl’s eyes grew wide with fury as she looked her up and down.

“*OMG. First you steal my popularity, then my earrings? And now…like, that’s my phone!”

“Like..oh is it?” the second one replied, sounding very bored. “Like, OH so it is. That reminds me, like.. *Someone stupid called…sometime today…about something trivial.”

“Whoa,” Doug chuckled. “*Must be casual sex day at school…KIDDING Bro! That crew there, not one of them is from California. In fact, all five of those ladies are from the mid west. The only thing they know about acting like stuck ups, comes from TV. Like I said, nobody is who they pretend to be..get my drift? This is a School for the Arts after all.”

Martin was still staring at the impending cat fight. “*This is great. This gives me hope. Thanks.”

Doug must have missed the sarcasm, for he just slapped Martin on the shoulder, started crab walking again, and carried on with the tour.

Martin could only follow along, wondering why he had ever thought leaving the farm would be a good thing. At least there he knew a cow would always be a cow..and not one of them were dyed blond.

boredom cure.

“Now is not the time to have a phone conversation. Hang up.”

SHE always gets frustrated the minute a friend wants to talk to me. I ignore her. Every phone call, to me, is important.

“I said, ‘hang up.’”

I heard that if you respond to them it only encourages them. So I keep yapping, “Are we still on for tonight?”

“Oh, for crying out loud! WILL YOU HANG UP THE PHONE?!!! That’s it. I have been more than pleasant! Get out of my classroom!”

*Shrug* Whatever. I don’t care anymore. “James, hold on a sec.” I cradle the phone in my left hand and grab my backpack with my right. I crane my neck to survey the whole room. Justin is asleep in the corner again, but my b*tch teacher never yells at him. Ruth and Theresa are text messaging each other; no one cares about them. But everyone has to get on my case about anything I do. I can’t even have a friendly phone conversation!

“Hey loser, get off the phone!”

Sarah.

Need I say more? She sucks at life, and that b*tch is always on me about something. I’m so tired of her. She twists her hair and mocks me valley-girl style, “Um… Someone stupid called… sometime today… about something trivial,” then her gaze turns cold, “no one cares enough about an amoeba like you to call. We know no one is really on the phone.”

“Au contraire, Hoe Bag. This is someone VERY important,” I snap.

Where is my teacher at this point? Flagging down my principal in the hall. She never hears when I get ridiculed. No one ever hears. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m so done with this.

“James, we’re on,” I slam my cell phone shut and head for the classroom door. I don’t need this!

My principal is standing by my teacher at this point. They’re whispering a little too close. “Ooooh, must be casual sex day at school…kidding!” Don’t worry, I really mean it. And I sing that ‘kidding’ part contemptuously. The whole school knows they’re f*cking. “I’ll meet you in your office,” I say to my principal, and turn the corner abruptly…just in time to duck into the girls’ bathroom.

“OMG! First you steal my popularity, then my earrings!” Tami takes a swing at some other “popular” chick. Those blonde b*tches are so stuck on each other they don’t realize what’s about to happen! I don’t need to be a witness to a fight.

Peeking to make sure no one is around, I pop out of the girls’ bathroom and slip into the boys’. James is waiting there for me…with a gun.

“We’re on,” he says, and hands it over. Then he pulls another out of his pants.

“This is great. This gives me hope. Thanks.”

You thought I was gonna do that sir mixalot thing didn’t you…..I don’t think so.

So, hello. My name is, like, Jenny. And this is my diary.

Like, today is September 14th and school started two weeks ago, right? Well already my bff Rachel is so getting on my nerves, you know? I mean, the chickie borrows my earrings and marches right through school on the first day with her ears glittering, teeth shining, and the boys all talk to her, you know? And now she won’t give the earrings back! Oh my God! First you steel my popularity, then my earrings! Au contraire Ho!

I mean you shoulda seen this girl! Dressed up in a black mini, short halter top and FISHNET stockings! OMG! Must be casual sex day at school….KIDDING! What a tease!

So today I like called the ho and said look Rachel, I need those earrings back. I’m so trying to catch Ryan Bodding in my web, you know?

So there I am on the phone, and my little brother Bobby is so getting on my nerves. He’s in the background like, “get off the phone Jenny, we have to call 911”, and “Come on Jenny, Grandma set her hair on fire with the bic lighter!”. My Gawd he can be such a pain, you know? I mean Grandma doesn’t have much hair left anyway for God’s sake. The old bag looks better now anyway.

Finally Bobby was all like “Oh for crying out loud! Will you hang up the phone!”

So I did. But I smacked him first. I mean, seriously, what a weenie, you know?

So there’s grandma, her melon all smoldering, you know, and stinking up the living room, and my mom looks at me and says, “you need to get off the phone sooner, Jenny.” And I’m all like, “If I had a private line, we wouldn’t have this problem. Oh that reminds me, mom. Someone stupid called….sometime today…about something trivial. He said his name was like, Maury Popovich or something?”

And she like freaks. “Maury Povich called? Are we getting on the show? Oh my God, Jenny, you couldn’t get me?”

And I’m all like, “Chill mom. He sounded like a total goob, you know?”

So like, she’s still mad, you know, but whatever. At least she won’t talk to me.

But hey! Rachel called back and said that Ryan Bodden likes me! OMG! This is great! This gives me hope! Thanks Rachel, you cheap ho!

So anyway, what a busy day! I, like, can’t wait till tomorrow!

“Boo!” hissed Morty from the studio audience. “WORST radio talk show EVER!”

“Au contraire,” cooed Mademoiselle Ursa, adjusting her mink shawl, “eet is very, how you Americans say, “bitchun”?

“Our next caller is named Al, and he’s calling from inner city Burbank,” said Gus, punching a few buttons that put Al live over the air. “Wassup my brotha?” asked Gus.

“You assume I am some juvenile miscreant,” fumed Al, “when in fact I am a Ph.D in European novels of the 20th Century. So do desist in calling me your ‘brotha’, and let me expound upon the contributions of a little known German novelist by the name of —- “

“This is great, this gives me hope, thanks,” said Gus flatly, disconnecting Al. The audience cheered, save for Morty.

Mademoiselle Ursa sensed his anger, and teasingly stroked the man’s hair.

“You must accept zis turn of eevents, you lovable fool,” she urged, “you hed your chantz, and zee producers liked Gus bettair. Poor, poor, leetle man……..”

“Oh for crying out loud!” boomed Morty, standing up in his chair and shaking his fist at the studio, “WILL YOU HANG UP THE PHONE!!”

This only resulted in Morty being tackled by station security, who threw him down the fire escape. When he recovered in the University’s lecture hall hours later, his bruised face was being tenderly washed by Mademoiselle Ursa, who had removed her shawl, hat, and dress, revealing her tantalizing figure clad only in a silken nightie and stockings.

“Must be casual sex day at school,” grinned Morty. A look into the radiantly cold French woman’s eyes told him his attempt at humor had failed worse than the Maginot Line.

“KIDDING!” he grinned.

“Fool,” uttered Madamoiselle Ursa, shaking her head, “no sooner zan you get dragged out of zee studio, zan Gus …he brings me up on zee stage.”

“What?”

“And he iz all like, “OMG. First you steal my popularity, then my earrings!” He thinks he iz so funny, that man. And I remind him zat I, am not WEARING ear-rings. He not be so funny then.”

“What happened next?”

“He getz all flustered, yes? He starts screaming, and saying I am hurting hiz program. I only say zat HE is a poor excuse for a man, and zat’s when he spillz his coffee all over me, on purpose. Yes?”

In the next hour, Morty listened on as Mademoiselle Ursa recounted the confrontation. Both quick in tae kwon do as she was in wittiness, the French woman soundly pummeled Gus senseless, as the audience went wild. Removing her dress was the coup de grace, as she needed it dry cleaned and pressed following the wild scuffle.

“So I am now the rightful host of the radio call-in show?”asked Morty, hopefully.

“Do not be zee eediot, you byootiful eediot,” chastised Mademoiselle Ursa. “I am zee one who haz zee star power now. Now go pick up my dress, eet is almost ready.”

Morty left, nodding sympathetically to Gus who lay crumpled and battered in a dumpster outside.

“Don’t forget the starch,” mumbled Gus, nursing his broken nose, “no, wait…she HATES starch.”

END