The telephone ring cut through the cacophony of noise emanating from Thing One in the front room. “NnnneeeerrrR… DOOF DOOF DOOF DOOF… NnnneeeerrrR…”
“Keep it down, Loob,” I implored politely of my child and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Have you looked out the window?” Thoughtful demanded by way of greeting. I hadn’t – it’s December and dark already; I hadn’t seen the point. Fortunately I didn’t need to. “Fucking fog!” he informed me.
I went to look anyway. A dense wall of white was revealed as I peeked through the blinds. “Jesus! That’s thick!” I confirmed into the receiver. “Who the hell would want to go out in this weather on New Year’s Eve Eve?”
“Not me,” Thoughtful Man said with the crackled sigh.
“Deadly! Deadly! Three O’Clock! NnnneeeerrrR… DOOF DOOF DOOF-”
“Loopy! Kindly shut the fuck up. I am on the phone!” I was sharper than I could have been but if I’d heard him call Deadly’s name once already, I’d heard it several dozen times. And I really didn’t need to hear it again at that precise moment. “How long you gonna stay out in this?” I asked Thoughtful Man tentatively.
I glanced at the TV screen showing smokey Battlefront skies as Loopy, now silent, zoomed through them, shooting at other WW1 airplanes…
*Oh is that what it sounds like? Thanks, Click. I usually only hear Looby’s voice…*
*Yeah he can have a problem with his volume control… Now stop interrupting… Where did I get to? Oh yeah, Thoughtful Man…*
“As long as I have to. I dunno, I’ll play it by ear, ” Thoughtful Man replied.
*Huh? He is not full of constant sorrow, Clicky… Okay, sometimes… mostly Fridays… /frowns… What day is it today?*
“Well, come home if it gets any worse,” I cooed down the receiver. “There’s no point you sitting around freezing your bollocks off, waiting for non-existent customers.”
Thoughtful Man huffed. “I’ll see how it goes. I’ll ring you later. Bye.”
“Okay then, bye. I love you,” I answered but he’d already rung off. I took one last look out the window, then turned back toward Thing One and ruffled his thick blonde locks. “Alright arseache, I’m off the phone now. Carry on.”
I returned to my Library couch to continue perusing the news.
The United States Department of State gained the metonym “Foggy Bottom” when it moved its headquarters to the nearby Harry S Truman Building in 1947.
*Just think. There’s going to be ‘Trump’s ‘Foggy Bottom’, Clicky… /squints… Song to end?*