Sybil Kibble is busy taking a dump after a long, hard day when her phone starts to play the “Gongs and Chimes” numbers station music.
“Oh not her again. She only calls when she wants something but never picks up when I need a friend.”
Sybil royal flushes her full house and returns LTL’s call.
“Hey my buddy Sybil Kibble! It’s been a busy-busy month with lots of running around to do, but I’m free today for just the next hour.” LTL begins to read off next month’s agenda until Sybil interrupts.
“But I’m not. I have business to take care of. Call me tomorrow.”
“Okay. But we didn’t hang out on Easter. I wanted you to come to church with me. JC’s the man!”
“I’m not free on Sundays anymore. How about I call you when I am free and we can take it from there?”
“Okay…but I only want to see you for a few minutes.”
“I will call YOU when I am free. Good night.”
The next day, LTL calls anyway — despite Sybil having expressed her wishes for her to wait, and gawd-forbid respect HER time — and she asks again if they can hang out.
“Are you mad at me? You haven’t answered my texts.”
“I’m busy. What’s up, are you OK, LTL?”
“Let’s visit.”
Worried about her friend, Sybil reluctantly gives in.
“I’m pretty tired but I can see you for a bit as long as you actually show up. When will you be down?”
“Get ready.”
“I will. How long will it be”
“Not long”
“Ball-park, one hour?”
“Oh less than that.”
The two disconnect and Sybil fixes up her face-frame, straightens out her black-and-white top and applies her makeup. The clock ticks. No sign from lazy LTL because she’s too busy farting around, so Sybil gets understandably fed up. Setting a boundary is hard but important, so Sybil makes it clear as daylight that she’s done waiting around:
“It’s been two hours and you said to get ready because you would be right down, but you never showed up. You live a half mile from me, if even that. I’m not waiting around on you anymore. I’m going to bed. Have a good weekend.”
Within ten minutes, someone relentlessly knocks on Sybil’s door while she is busy folding laundry in her bedroom, vertical blinds drawn to give her privacy from nosy neighborhood nitwits.
“Sybil!”
knock-knock-knock
“Sybil!”
knock-knock-knock
“Sybil!”
Ms. Kibble dons her headphones and cranks up the volume to the bird and squirrel videos her ma JK had sent her, literally drowning out the noise from the door-pounding and her phone being blown to bits by all the texts:
“I am here”
“I am by your door now”
“I cannot see you”
“I am already here”
“I saw you when you walked inside”
Time is money, yet LTL thinks only HERS matters. L drives home and texts Sybil “Good night.”
The following day, ennui’s calling but nobody’s home. LTL tries to call Sybil so she can make excuses, instead of apologizing because why do that? Only smart people take personal responsibility.
“I am pert near fed up with all the times L has done flaked out! You snooze, you lose.”
Sybil decides to gets inventive instead of even. She checks her itemized log to look up the number of hours LTL has wasted over the years and drafts up a bill, which she then mails to LTL’s house:
Needless to say, LTL fails to pony up, so Sybil sells LTL’s debt over to her debt collections farm Credit Recovery Associates so her team can hound her instead.
MoronicArts 