rang five times and Sam answered.
“Hello?’ said the voice of Sam.
Willy took a deep breath, and shouted into the phone “You’re an Asshole!” This time, he didn’t hang up; he sat there waiting.
“Who is this?” asked Sam.
Willy, having disguised his voice, smiled to himself. “Wouldn’t you like to know, you big dumb SOB!” said Willy.
The voice on the phone was angry. “I don’t know who this is, but you better hope that I never find out!”
Willy hung up the phone, and smiled contentedly. He laid his head down on the pillow that night and slept the sleep of a happy man.
For the next week Willy tormented his neighbor, calling at all times of the night, shouting obscenities into the phone, reveling in the anger of his Sam’s voice. Willy felt empowered. Sam was feeling Willy’s wrath, and Willy was enjoying every minute.
Then one night Willy heard a knock at his front door. He got up from his easy chair, walked over to the door, and opened it. There stood Sam. Sam was not smiling. “May I come in?”
Willy didn’t know what to say, so he simply said “Sure.”
“I have been getting harassing phone calls the past few days.” Said Sam. “Caller Id didn’t show anything but a number. I talked to my bodies in law enforcement and they said that it was probably a burn phone.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your troubles.” Said Willy. He was not going to confess, he knew that burn phones were untraceable. He sat down, looked at Sam, and smiled. “Sorry to hear about your trouble. I understand burn phones are untraceable, so you won’t be able to find whoever is doing this. What do you plan on doing about it?”
Sam took the seat opposite Willy, and stared at him from across the room. It was disconcerting, but Willy held fast. “Actually,” said Sam, “burn phones can be traced. My buddies pinged the phone, and tracked the location using cell phone towers to determine its real-time location.”
Willy stopped smiling; sweat broke out on his brow. He sat staring at Sam, like a deer in the headlights just before it is pulverized by a semi.
Sam stood up; he was a big man, towering over Willy, with big arms and flat stomach. “I don’t know why you did it, but it will stop now.”
Willy said nothing; he just shook his head up and down.
Sam looked down at Willy. “I could have you arrested, but I think that we should handle this between just the two of us. Don’t you agree?”
Willy said nothing; he just shook his head up and down.
Sam reached down, and lifted Willy easily off his chair with one powerful arm. “If I get one more phone call in the middle of the night I will be coming back.”
When Willy awoke he was laying on the floor of his living room. He tasted the blood in his mouth, and his jaw hurt. Sam had conveyed the message, and Willy had received it. There would be no more late night phone calls. Willy’s quest to fulfill the Seven Deadly Sins had backfired, blowing up in Willy’s face once again.
He’d been right in his philosophy: Life was the endurance of pain or hardship, in fact, all life was pain and hardship; if something was going to happen it was most likely not going to be for the good. He had learned his lesson, or rather, a new lesson; Life was a cosmic joke, and he was the butt of that joke. Or, to put it another way, everything was one big fat-ass joke, and he was the asshole. He would not continue his bucket list. He had approximately 3 months to live, and he chose to live them in whatever peace there was in this life of turmoil. Envy and Pride, the last two SDS’s on his list, would have to go unfulfilled; he didn’t think he could survive any more fun.
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