I got a message that my friend Jessica called when I was gone, and when I went to call her back, a man answered the phone:

"Hello?"

“Hello, this is Tom Duffy. Could I please speak with Jessica Kinley?”

The response I got from him was an ungodly, insane screech: “GET THE RIGHT FUCKING NUMBER!” ​ And he hung up.  That totally unexpected rudeness really pissed me off. 

When I checked Jessica’s number again, I found that I had mistakenly transposed the last two digits.  After hanging up with Jessica, I decided to call the first “wrong” number again.

When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, “YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE!”, and hung up.  I felt much better.  I wrote  down his number with the word “asshole” next to it and put it on speed dial.  Every couple of weeks, when I was having a really shitty day, I’d call him up and yell, "YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE!”, and then hang up.  ​It would always cheer me up.

​​One day I was at the store, all set to pull into a parking spot, when some dude in a black 2010 BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot​ ​I had been patiently waiting for.  ​I hit the horn and protested that I had been waiting for that spot for 5 minutes, but the asshole flipped me off and just walked away.  

Then, I noticed a “For Sale” sign in his back window, so I wrote down the number, and a couple days later (right after calling Asshole #1), I decided that I should call the BMW asshole as well.

'Hello, are you the man with the black 2010 BMW for sale?'

“Yes I am.”

“Is it still available, and could I come by some time to check it out?”

“Sure.  My address is 71 Greenwood Avenue in Bronxville.  It’s a red brick house on the corner and the car’s parked right out in front.”

“Sounds good.  What’s your name, by the way?”

“My name is Jack Daniels.”

“Say, when’s a good time to catch you, Jack?”

“I’m home every evening after six.”

“Listen, Jack, can I tell you something?”

“Yes?”

“Jack, YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE!"

​Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.  The next day, sudden inspiration struck!

I called Asshole #1:

“Hello.”

“YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE!”, but this time I didn’t hang up.

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah.  Asshole.”

He screamed, “STOP. CALLING. MEEEEEEEEE!”

“Make me, asshole.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Jack Daniels.”

“Yeah? Where do you live?”

“Listen, asshole, I live at 71 Greenwood Avenue in Bronxville.  A red brick house on the corner with a black Beemer parked in front.”

“I’m coming over right now, Daniels, and you’d better start saying your fucking prayers.”

“Oooooh! Listen to the tough guy.  Like I’m really scared, asshole.”  And hung up.

Next, I called Asshole #2:

“Hello?”

“Hello, asshole.”

“IF I EVER FIND OUT WHO YOU ARE…”

“You’ll what, tough guy?”

“I’LL KICK YOUR ASS, THAT’S WHAT!”

“Well, asshole, here’s your chance.  I’m coming over right now.”

Then I hung up and immediately called the cops, telling them that I was on my way over to 71 Greenwood Avenue in Bronxville to kill a registered sex offender who keeps exposing himself to my daughter’s 3^(rd) grade class at recess. 

Then I called Channel 7 Eyewitness News to report a civil unrest situation on Greenwood Avenue in Bronxville and things are spinning out of control.  Then, I got in my car and headed over to Bronxville.

I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the living shit out of each other, surrounded by 7 squad cars, with an overhead news chopper hovering over the scene, with a news crew reporting on the action. 

I feel much better now.