The call.

The rolls of thunder rattled the windows as they crashed immediately overhead. The weatherman had forecasted it for yesterday and, as usual, got it wrong. It came tonight as Debbie babysat for the Hendersons. Not that it bothered her, after all she was 17, an adult now. Only kids got bothered by thunder, didn’t they?
She tiptoed upstairs and peered round Tommy’s door. He was fast off, with his little blue teddy under his arm and the rainbow night-light casting a faint yet comforting glow across his crib.
The telephone rang down in the hall and Debbie pulled the door to quietly before going to answer it.
“Hello.”
For a second or two there was no answer, then the sound of breathing, heavy and laboured.
“Who is this?” She asked.
Again no answer, but the breathing
“Hey, Is this a dirty phone call?” Debbie chuckled, sitting on the bottom stair and grinning from ear to ear.
“I’ve heard about these.” She said. “But I’ve never actually got one. Suzy at school has had three, but not…”
The caller gave a sharp cough, then a low and rasping voice said. “I know where you live.”
“Oh, yes!” Debbie chirped. “Where’s that then?”
“I can see you.”
“Oh, so what am I wearing then?” She eased to the edge of the stair and blew a kiss to the hall mirror on the opposite wall.
“A sweater and jeans.” The caller growled.
“Wrong!” Debbie scalded. “Try again.”
“Skirt and blouse?” He offered.
“Wrong again.” Said Debbie. “Try a blue dress.”
“Blue dress?”
“And wrong again.” She laughed. “You’re not very good at this are you?”
“I know you’re alone.” The caller said gruffly.
“Well,” Debbie began.”It depends what you call alone. If you’re talking adults, then strictly yes, but there is Tommy upstairs though he’s only two. He’ll be three next week though and he’s such a….”
“Hey!” The caller snapped. “I am trying to make an obsene call here.”
“Sorry!” Debbie apologised. “Carry on.”
“Right.” He said.”So I do the threatening talk bit and you act all scared, o.k.?”
“O.k., but I’m not the least bit scared. In fact I can’t wait to get to school tomorrow and tell all my friends. I’m so excited.”
“No. You are not!”
“I’m not?”
“No!” He was getting a little rattled. “You’re 17 and scared, right?”
“Right.”
“Then do it right and stopped ruining it.”
“O.k.”
He did a quick summing up. “Right, so I know where you live, I know you’re ALMOST alone and I know what you’re wearing…”
“Well, actually.” Debbie corrected. “You still haven’t guessed the what I’m wearing bit. You did say..”
“I know what you’re wearing!” He growled.
“O.k, o.k.”
“Now” He gave a heavy sigh and continued, his voice low and eerie, slow and debated. “I’m going to come and get you. I’m going to slit your throat and I’m going to…”
“Oh.” Gushed Debbie. “I’m so glad you’re into all the slitting the throat stuff. My friends have only had rape threats and the heavy breathing bit. They’ll be so jealous.”
“Are you listening?” He griped. “You are so ungrateful. I did three last night. Two screamed and hung up and the third sobbed all the way through, but you, no, you have to be different. You have to talk all the way through it. I’ll bet you’re a pain in the cinema. You’re the one that gabs all the way through, then tells everyone the ending I’ll bet. Well I’ll tell you what, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call someone who appreciates a decent obscene call…..”
The line went dead.
“Hello.” Said Debbie. “Hello.”
She replaced the phone on the hook disappointed. “Damn storm.” She told her reflection. “Looks like the lines are down. Just when it was getting interesting.”


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