My boys like to play little tricks on me with my cell phone. For example, they’ll change the the ring tones without telling me.
CLERK: Who’s next?
BONNIE: (points) That gal, over there.
(A tinny version of “When the Saints Come Marching In” starts to play. It goes on. And on.)
BONNIE: (amused) Excuse me, ma’am, but is that your phone? No? (a little louder) Somebody’s phone! It’s ringing!
(The other customers look at their phones, and then at Bonnie)
BONNIE: Hunh? Oh! (grabs her phone) Heh! Sorry. My boys. Changed the ringer thingy! I keep telling them not to… Ahem.
Their favorite trick, though, is to change their phone number IDs. Right now, when Squirt calls me his caller ID shows up as “Santa Claus.” Tiger, however, prefers an ID with a little more authority.
CHECKOUT CLERK: That’ll be $158.86. On the credit card?
BONNIE: Yes, thank—
MECHANICAL VOICE: CALL FROM! JESUS! CALL FROM! JESUS! CALL FROM—
BONNIE: Sorry! (fumbles for the phone) Normally I wouldn’t answer in the middle of a transaction, but he never calls me unless it’s something important.
CHECKOUT CLERK: Yes, that’s what I’ve heard.
BONNIE: No, uh, heh! You don’t understand. It’s my son.
CHECKOUT CLERK: Really!
BONNIE: (into the phone) You and I are going to have a big talk when I get home, young man!