The story of a man and his dog...

I really hate it when people call you with the wrong number and then get all kinds of disgusted and rude when you tell them it's the wrong number like it's YOUR fault. My perpetrators usually come in the form of uneducated hicks or ebonic tongues that do nothing other than annoy me. And this is exponentially more fun when you don't have a land line and have used the SAME cell number for the past 5 years. When this happens, I'm generally still nice but there is that extreme occasion where the mood catches me right and I mess with them because they just won't drop it.

Case in point, tonight's call. The wonderful pillar of society calls my cell phone. This was our conversation:

Me: Hello
Ignorant Hick: Ah, yeah, is Angie there?
Me: No, I'm sorry you must have the wrong number.
IH: Huh? Isn't this 4567?
Me: Yes, but there's not an Angie here. Sorry man.
IH: Well, I just called THIS number 'bout an hour ago and talk to her.
Me: Well, I'm sorry, because I've had this number for over 5 years and it's assigned to my cell phone.
IH: Who is this? Let me talk to Angie. (In a rather unpleasant tone)

Now, I have two basic options: Simply hang up the phone or fire back. I've had a long day. Game on.

Me: You know what buddy, you might as well forget it, because Angie doesn't want to talk to you right now.
IH: (Getting angry) Why the hell not? Who is this?
Me: Because she's tired of your shit. This is Tyler Durden (from the movie Fight Club. It's the first thing that popped into me head).
IH: Put Angie on the G-D phone!
Me: You know what buddy? Angie is going to stay with me for a while. In fact, I have to go now because we need to finish unpacking her car and moving her stuff in. Oh, and she's taking the dog too. (I just guessed at that one. All rednecks have mutts tied out back of their houses.)
IH: Bullshit she is. I've had that G-D dog since before I knew her. He's my dog!
Me: Well, not anymore. Because tomorrow he's going to the vet to be neutered. I'm tired of him humping my leg. (At this point, I'm almost cracking up.)
IH: Look, I don't care if Angie wants to move in with you. We need a break. Tell her that's ok, but I just want my dog. (Awww. He's now gone from angry to almost being in tears about his dog. No doubt with the influence of alcohol.)
Me: So your dog means more to you than Angie?
IH: Hell yeah. She even knows that.
Me: Ok. I'll tell you what. Angie and I will talk about it tonight and we'll give you a call tomorrow. And Angie says go to bed and sleep it off. Call her when you're sober and apologize for everything. She says that's the only way you're getting him back.
IH: Ok man. Be good to him.
Me: I will. Later

That just goes to show you how nothing comes between a man and his dog.

See there. Now with any luck this fool will call this Angie person and apologize for whatever he did and everyone will live happily ever after. I swear, I'm like the Batman of the telecom industry.