I called the helpline. "What's the capital

I called the helpline. "What's the capital of ex-Upper Volta, aka Bukina Faso?" It was a trick question. The answer is Ougadougou, but pronounced Wagadugu. "Are you suicidal?" said

the smooth operator with a Sade-sounding voice. Whoops. Wrong number. But since I had her on the phone already, I went along with it. "I might be," I replied."Meet me for a drink?"

The woman at the other end of the line said, "The time is six fifty-five p.m." She was playing coy. She dared me to beg her. I like strong women, so I covered the phone with my mou

th and breathed in a raspy breath "PlEaASSEEESEE LAdDDYy". I coughed a few times to give the impression I was ill. The woman breathed back in the phone, but this time impersonating

Charles de Gaulle. Who knew that I'd be getting this kind of accomodation on the pricy 800 number. She continued, breathing heavily into the phone.

"Just one night Mme. I don't need much room. My bag's small." Her breathing became rapid. A bit nervous about whether she could accommodate me I asked "Think you can squeeze me in?

In my heart i realized that I want to take actions against the heartless woman ,I was thinking "Should i stab her with my knife or punch her with my punch'

I resolved to stab her with my punch. I stabbed the heartless woman but my fist went straight through her. A ghost! I should have known, after all she was heartless.

"If only I'd punched her with my punch," I cried into spectral fires, bemoaning the immediate ghostly devaluation of my home's once-solid property value.