I walked by it again today, but opted not to throw it away or even acknowledge it. My plan is to leave it there until the phone company delivers a new one in a few weeks. I like to think that the same person will deliver it, and upon reaching my porch, he'll notice that I've neglected to take my previous book inside. He'll find it strange at first but will eventually dismiss it as happenstance. Perhaps the homeowner is on vacation or something, the deliverer will deduce. He'll then carry on with his business, but little will he know, I'll be watching him.
The second phone book will stay put right next to the first one, and neither one will be touched or even looked at, that is until two weeks later when the deliverer arrives at my house again. This time will be different though, this time he'll remember me. Around the time he reaches my driveway, his memory will strike him. "This is the house that didn't pick up their last phone book." he'll say to himself, as he hikes slowly up the walkway to my front porch, and then he'll see it. He stops dead in his tracks as his gaze meets the phonebooks, still in the same place he left them weeks before. He drops off the newest book, and quickly vacates the premises. He finishes up the day's work and tries to brush it off, but he can't. It's all he can think about. He lies awake in bed all night, unable to sleep, thoughts racing through his head...Why won't that guy pick up his phone books? Doesn't he have any phone calls to make? How will he know the numbers?
The next few days, the deliverer calls in sick. He simply can't muster up the usual enthusiasm he needs to bring people their Yellow Pages. His boss calls him to check on him, and the deliverer assures him that everything is fine. "It's just something I ate", the deliverer will explain to his boss. "I'll be OK"
After 6 days of faking an illness, the deliverer returns to work telling tall tales of how he'll never eat fish again, and how he's glad to be back to normal, but although his coworkers buy his story, he feels far from normal. For today is the day he returns to my neighborhood. Today is the day he's been dreading for two weeks. He fills up his satchel with phone books and reluctantly heads out. He finishes up all his deliveries saving my house for last. He says a little prayer to himself as he begins the ascent up my driveway, which somehow seems longer than before. Each step met with a pounding heart beat. As he reaches the final stretch of walkway, he closes his eyes for a second. With sweaty palms and trembling hands the deliverer nearly drops his satchel as he arrives at my porch to see what's been torturing him all these nights. There in front of him lie three phone books, a bit weathered and clearly untouched. A single tear slides down his face as he struggles to comprehend the absurdity of the situation. He begins to walk away a defeated man, but then stops and decides enough is enough. He turns around and knocks at my door to demand an answer.
That's when I answer and we have the following exchange:
Me: What?
Him:(Trembling) Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but I have some deliveries for you. You see, these phonebooks here, they're for you. I brought them here for you.
Me: Yeah, well I don't want them. Take them away!
Him: But sir, I don't understand. Without these books you won't have access to anyone's phone number. Don't you need them?
Me: No! No I don't
Him: (Sobbing) Please sir, please just take them. Why won't you take them?
Me: (Exasperated gasp) Alright you really wanna know?
Him: Yes! Please tell me. Help me understand!
Me: It was 20 years ago. I was just a boy... (Taking a deep breath)
My father had just come home from an arm wrestling convention where he placed 5th in the national circuit, but was obviously disappointed with his performance. My mother and I tried reassuring him of his masculinity but our efforts were futile. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a stack of phone books from that one drawer everyone has in their kitchen that consists of expired coupons, phone books, and magnets and shit. He began tearing phone books in half, to prove to us that he was still a man, but halfway through tearing a third book, he collapsed from a heart attack. My mother ran to get a phone to call an ambulance, but she slipped on the phonebook pages that were scattered everywhere, and landed on her head. Both my parents were now lying there in front of me dying, and I had no idea what to do. I was just a boy. I grabbed the telephone and attempted to call for help, but didn't know what number to call. Worse than that, I couldn't find the number, because all of my phonebooks were ripped up and the numbers were indecipherable. My neighbors found me two days later laying next to my parents in the fetal position, sucking my thumb.
I still think about that fateful day every time I see one of these books. Don't you see? Phonebooks murdered my family. Why must you remind me of my anguish. Why? ( Tears rolling down my face)
Him: (Visibly shaken) Dear god! I'm so sorry. I had no idea.
Me: I forgive you. Now go in peace. Also take your books please.
The deliverer will then scurry away back to the phonebook headquarters where he will tell his colleagues of my unfortunate hardship. The manager flags my house as a delivery free zone, and all of the delivery men comply with the new restriction...
And that is my plan to get the phone companies to stop delivering me phonebooks.
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