GOT TO LOVE THOSE PHONE CREATURES

April 09, 2026

by Rusty W. Mitchum

The other day I was asked to rerun a story that I had written back 27 years ago. Yep, I’ve been writin’ this junk for that long. Heck, longer. This comin’ July, I will have been writin’ for the Lindale paper some 34 years and they haven’t fired me yet, but I’ve been expectin’ it anytime now. Anywho, I had to look to find this one. It was written so long ago, I didn’t even remember it, so chances are y’all won’t either. It is one of my Phone Creature stories.

A Phone Creature is what I call those telephone sales people who call you when you’re eatin’ or watchin’ TV, or any other time you don’t want to be disturbed. Well, for several years now, I’ve turned that annoyance into what I consider fun. Instead of hanging up, I talk to them. No, I don’t buy what they’re sellin’. I control the conversation, and let it flow to whatever my warped mind wants. My wife thinks it’s stupid and embarrassing, and she will even leave the room while I’m having this fun. Anywho, I got a call from one of the creatures the other day, and I’m gonna let y’all eavesdrop in on the conversation.

The phone rang and I picked it up. “Yellow,” I said. Then there was a pause. “Yellow!” I said louder. Then I heard a click. This is the first indication that you’re probably fixin’ to talk to a phone creature. Then a voice said, “Mr. Rusty Mitchum, please.”

“What?” I yell into the phone in my old man voice.

“May I speak to Rusty Mitchum please!” the creature said.

“You got ‘em!” I said, “But you’re gonna have to speak up. My hearin’ aid ain’t a workin’ too good. You see, I mistook it for one of those horse pills that blame doctor give me for my rheumatism. Oh, I got it back the next day, but it ain’t worked right since.

“Uh, I see,” said the creature.

“What!” I yelled.

“Mr. Mitchum! I’m Melissa Hammond with MCI!”

“FBI!” I said. Then I held the phone away from my mouth and started talkin’ even louder as if I was talking to someone else in the house. “Maw!” I yelled. It’s the FBI. You ain’t been pullin’ them tags off of them seat cushions again, have you?"

Then the creature yelled. “No, Mr. Mitchum. MCI, the long-distance company!”

“They’s callin’ long distance too!” I yelled.

“No, Mr. Mitchum, I ain’t…..I mean, I’m not calling about your cushions.”

“Oh,” I said. Then I yelled, “Never mind, Maw! They ain’t callin’ about that.” Then I started talking into the phone again. “Well, if you ain’t callin’ about the seat cushions, I bet you’re callin’ about Carl.”

“Sir?”

“I bet Carl escaped, didn’t he? And now he has the FBI after him.”

“Mr. Mitchum,” the creature sighed, but I didn’t wait for her to say anymore. I continued.

“Carl’s escaped!” I yelled across the room. Then I waited a moment and spoke back into the phone. “Maw said she ain’t seen him.”

“Mr. Mitchum……”

“He was always breakin’ out of places,” I interrupted. “Why when he was just a little feller, and we’d lock him in the closet, it wouldn’t be no time till he’d break out.” Now, this really got the creature’s attention.”

“Your son?” she asked.

“Heck no!” I said. “You think I’d lock my son in a closet? It was my wife’s sister’s boy. We took him over after his daddy died in a freak circus accident.”

“Circus?”

“Yep. Carl’s daddy was known as the Elephant Eared Boy, although he weren’t no boy. He was a full growd man. He had these great big ol’ ears. They were about the size of half a dinner plate.” I really had her interest now.

“How’d he die?” she asked.

“Well, when Carl was about five or six, Newly, that was the Elephant Eared Boy’s real name, was on the circus train and they was aheaded to someplace up north. Well, for some reason, or another, he wanted to look outside, so he stuck his head out the train winder. That train was a goin’ mighty fast and the wind caught Newly’s ears and they beat him to death.”

“Do what?” said the creature.

“Yep,” I sniffed. “It was tragic. Tore ol’ Feeby up. That’s Newly’s wife, you know. A few weeks’ later she dropped Carl off at our house and she left. Ain’t seen her since. They say she ran off with Sam Hooks. He was another circus performer, you know. Thar was rumors that she had been seein’ Sam before Newly’s untimely death.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, but I knew the creature was still there, listening.

“I can’t blame her much,” I continued. “Ol’ Sam was a hansom sucker. That is if you could over look that thang on his forehead.”

“Thang?” the creature said.

“Yeah. He was billed as the Unicorn Man, but it weren’t no horn stickin’ out there between his eyes. What it was, was a thumb.”

“A thumb?”

“Shore was. Had a thumbnail on it and everything. He was real proud of that thang. He kept the nail trimmed real short so it wouldn’t get dirt under it. Anyway,” I went on. “I guess that’s the reason Carl turned out like he did and all. Havin’ growd up in that kind of weird atmosphere, you know.”

“Oh well,” I said. “Give me your number, and I’ll call you up if'n he show’s up here.”

“What?” said the creature in a sort of dazed like fashion. Then she started coming to her senses. “Uh……. Mr. Mitchum, I’m not calling about that……..uh…..I tell you what……..Just…..Oh, never mind.”

“Huh!” I yelled.

“Never Mind!” she yelled back.

“Well, okay,” I said. Hey, you ain’t gonna mention them seat cushions tags to your boss, are you?”

“No, Mr. Mitchum, I won’t mention them!”

“Well, thank ya then,” I said, and I hung up.

I turned to see my wife Janet staring at me from the other room.

“Brain tumor,” she sighed. “That’s got to be it. A brain tumor.”