Free Andy Stevenson vs. The Lord of the Loins by Kage Alan

call was dead air, too. Yes! Third call, dead air. I was going to bed happy tonight! Fourth call ... a voice. This wasn't just any voice, either, but rather the strained sound belonging to an extremely mentally unstable, inebriated and deranged member of the Frank Sinatra era.
    "Andy!” The voice blared through the speaker at me. “You know damn well who this is! This is Grandma, and I'm not calling back a fifth time. You can call me!” She struggled hanging the receiver up at least four times before getting it right, and the slew of foul language still coming out of her mouth would make Sam Kinison blush.
    All I wanted was a little happiness and peace and quiet this evening. Was that too much to ask for? The phone rang, and I threw my hands up in defeat. Maybe nothing was ever peaceful and peace was just an illusion. Swell, now I was annoyed and depressed. The phone continued to ring, so I summoned whatever self-control I still possessed and picked it up.
    "Hello? Hi, Mom. Oh, classes are fine. Yeah, everything's great. I'm meeting lots of new friends, going out ... getting drunk and laid a lot on the weekends. No ... No, that was a joke, Mom. What do you mean, which part? No, I haven't been drinking. Mom ... Mom! Stop cheering. I haven't been doing that, either. There's nothing wrong with me. I've ... I've got my writing, my work ... and ... and ... my writing. I just don't need the hassles of a relationship right now, and sex without one doesn't hold any value for me. Excuse me? What do you mean it's therapeutic? I don't care what you read in Reader's Digest . No, I know you're trying to be helpful and I appreciate that, but there's nothing wrong. I'm fine. Besides, sex never cured anything. No, I'm not talking from experience. Mom, I'm not proliferous. What? No, I said it right. Yes, I did. No, I'm not promiscuous, either, whatever that is. How many times do I have to tell you that everything's fine?
    "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm lying. Everything sucks! I'm flunking out of school, my professors hate me and the women won't even look at me. I guess I'll never get married, and I'll suffer from dead semen backup for the rest of my pathetic life. No, I don't need to talk to somebody! I was being sarcastic. What? Sarcasm. It's a humorous and biting ... Dead semen backup? It's when ... What do you mean use my hand? Dad? When did Mom give you the phone? She's complaining that I don't make sense? She just doesn't understand sarcasm, that's all. Sarcasm. It's a humorous and biting ... Oh, never mind.” I decided to change the subject. I still had an elderly next-door neighbor back home who loved me!
    "How's Mable? What do you mean she's pissed at me? I didn't do anything! Well, okay, I might have done that. All I did was suggest ... What? She believed me? God, there's one in every town. Look, all I told her was that if she didn't let the summer air out of her bicycle tires and put winter air in, they'd explode. It's not my fault if she thought I was serious. Have I ever said a serious thing to her in my life? I take it you told her the tires wouldn't explode? The gas station attendant did? Okay, so she found out. What's the big ... Well, what did she take it up there during a blizzard for? Yes, I might have exaggerated things a bit. Frostbite? She can't possibly blame me. She called me that? Yep, she's blaming me.
    "Oh, speaking of someone who's pissed, Grandma called. Oh, she told you? I don't think she liked the message on my machine. She told you that, too? What else did she say? That I need discipline? Tell her not to tease. No, don't tell Mom to tell her. Because she won't get the humor in that. Yes, I was being funny. No, you're not wasting your money. I'm not going to grow up to be a comedienne. Yeah, I'll talk to you both later. Love you, too. Bye."
    Okay, time for a recap. What wasn't working in my life? My alcoholic grandmother was annoyed with me, my elderly neighbor back home was blaming me for her frostbite, my mother