Phone Bill

This piece of foolishness is a follow-up to the post: Gregory

It's been two weeks now since I found out that my rock's name was not Gregory, but Willis. To be honest, I don't think he really looks like a "Willis". In my mind, Willis is a name for someone who could play in a DieHard movie.

And although Willis would certainly induce a great deal of pain if he was hurled suddenly at someone's head, he is neither photogenic nor athletic enough to star in an action-thriller movie.

Ever since I found out his name is really Willis, I've been careful to stop calling him Gregory. The change has been extraordinary. Now my rock is eager to chat - in fact, I would say he's downright talkative.

"Hey Willis, have you got my phone bill?" I asked him yesterday.

After a pause he said, "Hey, what's this phone call to East Timbuctu?"

"Just visiting with my cousin Ethel."

"For forty-five minutes? Do you have any idea how much that phone call cost?" He sounded a bit aggrieved.

"So?"

"So, I'm also sitting on your 2007 budget figures, and I guarantee we don't have money enough to be throwing around like that."

I glared at him. He seemed impervious to my stare. "We?" I demanded.

He didn't shrug, but I'm sure if rocks had the ability to shrug, he would have. "I live here too, you know," he said.

"I don't see you doing much to increase our net worth," I replied. "You want to start talking about our money, I suggest you get a job."

"I already have a job."

"Really? What are you? A brain surgeon?"

Sarcasm is lost on rocks - even intelligent ones like Willis.

"No, stupid. I'm a paperweight."

I hadn't exactly thought about it like that. I suppose, technically, he was working for me.

"You know the book of Leviticus, in the Bible, says not to withhold your neighbor's wages," he continued piously.

Leave it to Willis to bring in the heavy guns. The book of Leviticus. Considering carefully my options, I realized there was only one solution to my unfortunate dilemma.

I'm going back to calling him Gregory.

This post was written in 10 minutes.

Gregory

Gregory is a rock. I don't mean he's a pillar of support in times of trouble, or any such metaphorical nonsense. No, I mean it literally. He's a rock.

I was out walking on Hill Street when I saw him. I'd like to say there was something special about him that attracted my eye - some luminescenece, some pattern of coloring or shading of dark and light. But there was nothing about Gregory that made him leap out from among his peers, except this one thing: he was smooth and flat on the bottom, and nicely rounded on the top.

The perfect paperweight, I thought as I picked him up and jammed him into my jeans pocket.

Why I named him Gregory, that's anyone's guess. I don't even remember if I had a childhood friend named Gregory - a couple Gregs, and I suppose Greg was short for Gregory, but I never thought of them as Gregory.

But this rock - he was definitely a Gregory.

For three weeks I kept him on my desk, between the computer and the printer. Every morning I would say to him: "Good morning, Gregory, it's a beautiful day today," or "Hey Gregory, can you believe how hard it's raining out there? Good thing you're in here where it's dry, huh?"

To each of my inquiries, Gregory would, with the arrogant indifference that only a rock can express, remain silent and still.

When I needed a paper that Gregory was holding down, I would say, "Pass the electric bill, please," or "Hey, Gregory, have you got my paycheck?"

And still, Gregory would remain strangely mute.

On the bright side, Gregory would never complain when I left for the day - no whining and complaining "You never spend enough time with me," or "Is your work more important than me?"

For three weeks he sat there on my desk, between the computer and the printer, saying nothing. And then, at the beginning of the fourth week, I think something snapped. It was right after, for the four hundredth time, I called him Gregory.

"My name," he announced with more irritation than I have ever heard from a rock, "is Willis."

This post was written in 11 minutes.

This foolishness is continued here: Phone Bill