Why Me?

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"Hello," said the telephone cheerfully into Dortmunder's ear, "this is Andy Kelp."

"This is Dort—" Dortmunder started to say, but the telephone was still talking in his ear. It was saying:

"I'm not home right now, but—"

"Andy? Hello?"

"— you can leave a message on this recording machine—"

"It's John, Andy. John Dortmunder."

"— and I'll call you back just as soon as I can."

"Andy! Hey! Can you hear me?"

"Leave your message right after you hear the beep. And do have a nice day."

Dortmunder held both hands cupped around the mouthpiece of the phone and roared down its throat: "HELLO!"

"eeeepp"

Dortmunder recoiled from the phone as though it were just about to explode, which he half expected it would. Holding the receiver at arm's length, he watched it mistrustfully for a few seconds, then slowly brought it closer and bent his ear to the earpiece. Silence. A long, hollow, sort of unreeling kind of silence. Dortmunder listened, and then there was a faint click, and then the silence changed, becoming furry, empty, and pointless. Knowing he was all alone, Dortmunder nevertheless asked, "Hello?" The furry silence went on. Dortmunder hung up the phone, went out to the kitchen, had a glass of milk, and thought it over.

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