(© Joseph A Polega)
Her cell phone started buzzing after
midnight, just as Cindy drifted off to sleep when the Late Show interview with
Jacob from Twilight proved less stimulating than she thought it would have
She snapped awake immediately. A call at
this time of night usually delivered bad news.
The good always seemed to wait until
Her phone was on the highest vibration
setting so Cindy snatched it up before it tumbled off her Ethan Allen bedside
The light from its LCD display pierced a
narrow swath through the darkness inside the bedroom.
Incoming text message from: Unknown
Cindy frowned, fearing that the recent slew
of telemarketing calls inundating her home phone had now infected her cell. She
hit the "view" tab on the touch screen and the message filled it in big block
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! WILL I SEE YOU LATER?
The message was intriguing and Cindy
tinkered with the idea of sending a playful response as if she were its
intended recipient. But it was getting late and with a conference call looming
over her head in the morning Cindy though it prudent to delete the message and
return to her pillow.
Her eyes were barely closed before the
phone began vibrating again.
There was another message from Unknown.
WHAT’S UP? WILL I SEE YOU LATER?
Wanting to nip it the bud, Cindy slid her
phone open and began pecking away at the small keyboard; which proved difficult
in the dark. She had not texted enough to truly master the art of blind
Sorry. Wrong number. G’Night.
With the phone back on the nightstand,
Cindy got out of bed and walked out to the bathroom. While sipping some water,
she thought about the messenger – and about how long it had been since she had
a man in her life to wish her a happy birthday.
She cursed herself for sounding too much
like her mother whose inquiries about Cindy’s social life, or lack thereof, had
proved a constant irritant.
She had Butch and he was enough. The
Labrador’s snoring drifted across the hall from his place at the foot of
When she returned to her bedroom, the
phone was buzzing again announcing the arrival of a new message.
This dude cannot take a hint, Cindy
thought to herself growing tired of the intrusion.
She climbed back into bed and adjusted
several of the pillows to her liking. Then, after pulling up the comforter, she
picked up the phone to view the latest text.
WHO IS THIS?
Cindy imagined the sender sitting alone
in the dark, pants down around his ankles, giddy with excitement at the chance
to interact with an actual live girl instead of some cheap plastic fuck doll.
She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction and was about to shut off the
phone when it went off again in her hand.
Cindy jerked up with a start allowing
the phone to slip from her grasp.
Hesitantly, she picked it back up and
stared at the new message indicator with a slight tremble in her hands. The
"view" tab stared up at her – she found it suddenly menacing. Cindy pressed it
before she lost the nerve.
I WANT TO TALK.
"Well, I don’t asshole." She announced
to the room. Butch looked up at her with some sense of canine concern before
flopping back over asleep.
Her fear turned to anger as she rapped a
reply into the keyboard.
Cindy slammed the phone shut then turned
it off completely, having had enough of the mystery sender. She put it in the
bedside drawer next to her car keys, Ipod, and unused box of Durex condoms.
Butch grunted down by her feet as Cindy
stretched out across the bed. She closed her eyes but knew immediately that
sleep was not going to come.
[ Continue to page 2 ]