Anger Management Redux

Occasionally, when you had a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know — take it out on someone you don't know.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I've forgotten to make; so, I dug up the number and dialed it.

A man answered, "Hello."

I politely inquired, "This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?"

Suddenly the voice yelled out in my ear; "GET THE RIGHT F***ING NUMBER!" and the phone slammed down on me.

I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.

When I re-checked Robyn's number, I discovered that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.

After talking to her, I decided to call the "wrong" number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE!!!" and hung up.

I wrote his number down with the word, "asshole," next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE!!!" It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "asshole calling" days were over. So, I called his number and went, "Hi, this is John Smith from Pacific Bell. Sir, I'm calling to see if you're interested in our Caller ID Program?"

He yelled, "NO!" and slammed down the phone.

I quickly called him back and yelled, "THAT'S BECAUSE YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE!!!" and hung up.

One day, I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I've been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me.

I noticed a "For Sale" sign on his back window, so I wrote down his number. A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole too.

I inquired, "Hello, is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"

He replied, "Yes, it is."

I asked, "Can you tell me where I can see it?"

He answered, "Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Boulevard, in Fairfax. It's a yellow rambler, and the car's parked right out in front."

I asked, "And you are mister?"

He said, "This is Don Hansen."

I asked, "So, when's a good time to catch you, Don?"

He said, "I'm home every evening after five."

I went, "Listen, Don. Can I tell you something?"

He said, "Yes?"

I said, "Don, you're an asshole!"

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial as well. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.

A couple days later, I came up with a really neat idea. I called Asshole #1.

He said, "Hello."

I said, "YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE!!!"

(But I didn't hang up.)

He asked, "Are you still there?"

I said, "Yeah."

He started screaming, "STOP CALLING ME!!!"

I said, "Make me."

He yelled, "WHO THE F*** ARE YOU?"

I said, "I am Don Hansen."

He said, "Oh yeah? Where do you live?"

I replied, "Asshole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax, a yellow rambler. I have a black Beamer parked in front."

He said, "Don't you move. I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers."

I shot back, "Oh yeah? Like I'm really scared, asshole," and hung up.

Then I called Asshole #2.

He answered, "Hello?"

I said, "Hello, asshole."

He too, started screaming, "IF I EVER FIND OUT WHO YOU ARE..."

I cut in, "You'll what?"

He screamed, "I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!!!"

I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."

Then I hung up, went to a public payphone and called the police, declaring that I was going over to 34 Oaktree Boulevard in Fairfax to kill my adulterous gay lover. After that, I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Boulevard in Fairfax.

After that, I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax. I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other, before six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and hordes of news crew.

Ahhhh... I feel much better.

Anger management really does work.