Calling a friend...

... and somebody else picked up the phone.

Over the phone the voice is yelling: "Who is this?"
-- Er... Cecyl.
-- Oh! Are you fucking my wife, Cecyl? Are you the motherfucker who is fucking my wife?!

Obviously, that was a bad time to make that call. Or my reputation precedes me. Oddly enough, I'm in the clear this time. Go figure. Also, there's this great feeling. The same you experience while being searched by a custom officer when you know you've just stopped doing drugs.

"No, sir. I am not."
-- Why are you calling then? I've seen this number before; it's not the first time you call her.

Well, actually, it is. He's bluffing. I keep it to myself though. Also, I don't tell him that I know the name of the motherfucker who is actually fucking his wife.

"I'm calling from work, sir. This is a professional call."

It goes on like that for a while. Him calling me a motherfucker and me being like, Well, I beg to disagree, sir. The thing is, since my friend is also my coworker and cell phones tend to display names of incoming calls, I don't want the cuckold barging in at my workplace all drooling and barking if I hang up on him before he understands he got the wrong guy. Still, I'm careful nothing I say can be used by him against my friend.

"Yeah, Cecyl, I remember you. You were the guy in the black suit talking to my wife the other day. What were you talking about?"

Cuckolds... they always think they are the first ones in mankind's history. It's so annoying.

"Look, this is getting embarrassing. This is a professional call. I have no idea what you talking about and I don't want to know anything about it. It's none of my business. So I'm going to hang up and we'll pretend this conversation never happened."