Busy Signal

Today, the offices of Weapon Mods were quiet. Ok, quiet, isn't the word...it was like we were bereft in the universe, floating along some ethereal plane, sole inhabitants of some nihilistic galaxy, pondering our regrets and hoping for a better...anyways. Suffice to say, when the phone did ring, we were all ears. Well, when we realized it was ringing that is, at first it was like when the alarm clock goes off in the middle of a dream...?

WM: Hello? Hello, this is Weapon Mods.

Caller: I have a problem.

WM: Er, yes? A problem?

Caller: Yes. I have a problem with blowers.

As you know, the only problem WM was having at the time was the fast-approaching bottom of the coffee cup.

WM: Ah...blowers?

Caller: You know, leaf blowers?

A pause.

Caller: They drive me crazy.

WM: I see, is there someone using one in your neighborhood? They have it going during Jeopardy, or something?

Caller: No, not that...so much. I just think they're lazy.

WM: The people using the blowers, leaf blowers?


Caller: Everything about them. The people, the...things themselves, it's all just very...lazy.

WM: Right. And it can't be good for the environment. They are gas-powered, right? I think so.

Caller: Yeah, as far as I know. Maybe there are some battery ones now, too. But for Chrissakes, get a rake! You know what I mean?

WM: I know exactly what you mean, you see these fat asses strolling around with their blowers,
like it'd kill them to do a little raking!

Caller: Right! You know, it probably would! They'd be into their third little...I don't know...leaf-raking motion and they would just die!

Here, Weapon Mods and The Caller share a brief laugh.

WM: And where are they blowing those damn leaves? Into someone else's yard!


Caller: Oh, yeah, oh yeah. And probably into some poor bastard's yard who rakes! Here's his guy raking-

WM: And then his idiot neighbor is blowing more leaves back into his yard!

Caller: Right! But the neighbor, the...the leaf-blowing guy, doesn't see what the normal, nice, raking guy has in his bag of leaves...

WM: Of course not, he's probably too busy, you know, blowing the goddam leaves around and-

Caller: Exactly, so, the raking guy, the nice guy, is leaning over and pulling a machete out of this bag of leaves.


The conversation seemed to be taking a certain turn. What's more, Weapon Mods began to think The Caller had a familiar voice.


Caller: See, the blower guy thinks the guy is just going to, you know, whack some more weeds, or whatever. But then, the raking guy, the machete guy? He's jumping the fence-


WM: The fence? Jumping the fence? You cut out.


Caller: Right, and he's just going at this guy with the machete!


WM: Wait, sorry. The...blower guy is going at the machete guy?


Caller: No, no...the guy with the machete is really fucking the blower guy up, I mean, he's screaming all over the place and, like, yelling, "please no no no, please...," but the machete guy just can't help it now, he's in this blood rage.


WM: Because of the leaf blowing?


Caller: No, because of leaf blowers. He really has no choice.


Something about how The Caller said, "has no choice." triggered some faint recognition in Weapon Mods. A spark of familiar, like suddenly recognizing the voice of the narrator of some credit card commercial.


WM:...Aimel?


Caller:...No.


Caller: And that's another thing that's lazy. Guns. Guns are very lazy. If people had to use real weapons? Then the murder rates would just plummet. Instead of this...impersonal...blam blam blam shit...


WM: Well, going after someone with a machete would be pretty personal.


Caller: Yeah, it was.


WM: Aimel?


Caller: I was...the voice...of Aimel, once.


Voice of Aimel: So, do you think we have a story? I mean, would you want to interview me, or anything? I think people would respond.


WM: I'm not....it's not that Weapon Mods doesn't agree with the fact that leaf blowers as a whole have a certain annoying quality to them.


For some reason Weapon Mods felt like Voice of Aimel had to be talked down from a ledge. The tone of the conversation had taken on some bizarre quality, charred smell of violence. And, it seemed like Voice of Aimel could find Weapon Mods just as easily as it was to call. The number isn't listed.


Voice of Aimel: I think this would be a great story.


WM: Have you done something?


Voice of Aimel: What do you mean?


WM: Have you done something illegal, details of which you're trying to garner media favor for? Weapon Mods doesn't pay for interviews, you know that, right? You might want to try Anvil Orbital Drop Station, or...what's the other one called....Blog in the Ointment?

Voice of Aimel: I don't want to be paid...

WM: But you do want something?

Voice of Aimel: To be thanked.

The phone was hot and greasy from being held to Weapon Mods's ear so long. It didn't ring again all day, and why would it? The number isn't listed.