"Hi, thank you for calling the Hotline for Help. We understand you're having a bad day and/or thoughts of killing yourself. If you're calling due to 'rape' or a 'rape' related incidence, we ask that you hang up and try our sister hotline. 1-800-766-7273. That's 1-800-7-NO-RAPE. This is 1-800-WE-CARE. And though we do care, we have a line that happens to care more. About rape. We'll transfer you to one of our counselors momentarily-"
-with aaaahrms wiiiiiide opeeeen-
"Thank you for calling the (redacted) hotline. This is Chad, what can I help you with today?"
Aww man. Hey. I don't know. I don't know where to start. Things just arent going too well you know? It's like, It's like why even bother going on? What am I gonna miss out on so badly that it'll be worth living for? Why do i gotta endure this pain for so long? I'm really just tired. I'm tired of it all. I just want to take all these pills and just go to sleep forever. But I thought maybe I'd give one of these things a call. It's not like I have anything else to do. I have no other plans. It's this then death, and I don't know if you're gonna be able to change that.
"Well I'm glad that's settled. Really. My number's have been atrocious all day and at least I don't have to give more effort into this. You ever watch one of those football games where it's like 42-14 and you don't know why they're still trying? Me neither man. If you're gonna lose, might as well do it spectacularly."
Wait. You can't be serious.
"Oh yeah. Fucking go for it. I'm 0-12 right now. You know how goddamn hard it is to lose 12 people in one shift? So do it you pussy. I'm not even supposed to work the phones. I'm the janitor. The real 'Chad' had to a funeral or something. I don't know it was a funeral, but working here, I thought those would be the best odds to play. Someone's always dying."
Oh god. You dont care about me. No one cares about me.
"Are you alone? Let me rephrase that, do you live alone? Single? No kids?"
No. I'm completely alone. Working some dead end job just to try and better my life. I don't even know what I want to do. I just want it all to go away.
"Ahh shit that's a shame. Do you got a dog?"
"Well that's fine. Wouldn't have counted anyway. We have this pool going here in the office. How many new orphans are there gonna be by the end of the day. Oh man. It was crazy. Alright, statistically we get a lot of loners calling. But occasionally it's more fucked up than that. Sometimes it's a single mother or father (mostly fathers, the mother's seem to be able to handle this shit better) but hoo boy. Earlier we had a divorcee. She went and offed that deadbeat husband of hers and then herself. We weren't expecting that. Anyways. That netted us one. By the time we went out for fourth meal we had a good 5 or 6 already. I'm not sure if you count the vegetative ones as wholes. Anyways, so we'll call it 5 and a half."
Jesus. What the fuck kind of place have I called? What's the point of this fucking hotline then?
"I like to think of myself as the gentle shepherd of natural selection. Like Charon on those tranquil waters, ferrying the damned."
Man. I still kinda want to kill myself, but I don't want to give you the credit. So now I don't want to kill myself.
"You could always leave it ambiguous, and then kill yourself. Win/win"
No. That doesn't seem fair. This doesn't seem fair. I don't want to live just to spite you. I don't want you taking credit for either of these things.
"Hey, I don't get credit for anything. Chad does. You should come down here to the station. It's crunch time and we're ordering pizza. And maybe you can fill out a job application. I don't think Chad's gonna be here much longer."
I think I'm going to get drunk. Very very drunk. I don't want to know you anymore. I'm just going to repress the shit out of this.
"Well thank you for calling the (redacted) Hotline. I'll put you down as a maybe for the record books. Have a nice life."
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Short Story / Other
Miscellaneous / Memoir
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