The Cell Phone

The Cell Phone

I never liked ‘em anyhow. Told you I didn’t want one, but you insisted. Company policy, you said. Damned nuisance. Go beeping when your doing 90 down the pike. Then you have to pull to the side of the road to take the call. Time savers you said. Hell, time wasters are what they are. In the five months I had it, never got a call that didn’t waste my time.

Now you say I’ve got to cough up 100 bucks to replace it. We’ll see about that. Listen again, carefully, to what happened.

I drove down to El Paso, to attend the funeral of my Grandpa Harley. Had to leave suddenly, and forgot to take the damn phone out of my coat pocket.

Now Grandpa Harley, -- he ain’t my favorite. Crotchety old man. Never had a nice thing to say to me in his whole life. ‘cept last year when he remarked about my long hair being so cute. He was probably just being sarcastic. But family is family so I’ve got to put on a long face and attend the funeral.

We get there and all the women are blubbering and the guys are red eyed and serious. The wife and I go up to the open casket to pay our last respects. Mom is standing there and says, “Give him a kiss goodbye.”

I turn, sure as hell hoping she isn’t talking to me. Well, she sure as hell is talking, --- straight to me. It’s not what I want to do, but my wife nudges me with her knee and points with her shoulder toward Grandpa Harley.

I lean over and plant a kiss on Gramps forehead. I’ll never know who liked it least, him or me. Then we went and sat for the funeral. After hearing when he was born, and what a wonderful life he lived with everyone loving him, and a little of that ashes to ashes stuff, it was time to put him in the ground. The casket was closed, and pallbearers came forward. The minister prepared to lead the procession up the aisle to the hearse.

Then from inside the casket came this buzzing sound. A sign of life. Two pallbearers bolted, knocking over vases of flowers. The minister turned - holding his cross aloft as if warding off evil. Women wailed and swooned while their men ignored them and sat, eyes riveted on the coffin.

The funeral director sprinted down the aisle followed by two assistants. Quickly they undid the latches and swung the cover open. Reaching inside he pulled out the cell phone and held it up. Everyone quieted down and the cross was lowered. There was only the buzzing sound. With nimble fingers he turned the darn thing off then placed it in Grandpa’s inside coat pocket. I started to get up but the wife pulled me back into my chair.

Still today I don’t know if that phone slipped from my pocket, or if that old man in one final act of meanness filched it from me during that kiss.

In any event, now you know where your damn cell phone is, and if you want it so bad, YOU can go down to El Paso and get it.

Story ID:	862
Written by:	Dick Dunlap (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Story
Location:	El Paso USA
Year:	1998