Google Voice Poetry, Lesson 4.

The incorrigibly cute and angry Jeff Somers was kind enough to curse me out in a voicemail. Trust me, what he said would curl a dead man’s toes. Of course, what I did was… oh, nevermind.
But that’s not how Google Voice heard it:
“Mother Farrell” by Jeff Somers
Sean,
Mother Farrell,
you white,
in in my calling you on that too so I can.
Person you.
This is on the believable you.
God damn cock sucker cheeses each price.
I cannot believe this that I have to do this for you.
Jeff has since canceled on suggested whiskey outings. Twice.

8 thoughts on “Google Voice Poetry, Lesson 4.

  1. By “it” really gets to you, I assume you mean that Jeff keeps canceling on me, right? Because it does. And yes, in my gallbladder. In fact my gallbladder has never looked worse. I keep it in a jar on my desk.

  2. I had my gallbladder removed about eight years ago, and afterward the surgeon said, “Your gallbladder looked like a biker bar after a particularly rowdy Saturday night.”
    He was a good surgeon.

  3. I said I was sorry! SAVE THAT CEREAL!
    The actual text of my voicemail was as follows:
    “Hey Sean, Jeff here. Wondering when you’re going to return all my KISS records. You said you were just going to borrow them for a party but I never got an invite, and when I hang out outside your house all night sometimes I can hear you playing them.
    “Anyway: God damn cock sucker cheeses each price. Okay?”

  4. I don’t know what is more disturbing, the fact that you own KISS albums, or the fact that I borrowed them.
    Oh, and “Calling Doctor Love” is worn out. I’ve played it so much the record no longer has any grooves.

  5. You two have such an adorable little bromance happening. Does that make Janet something Cupid shaped? Jeff is very brave to admit he stalks you outside your house to listen to what you are up to.
    I do hope your blinds are drawn.

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