Horny Man Extremely Disappointed With
1-900 Line's Service

MADHOUSE gets a lot of e-mail. Okay, maybe not a lot of e-mail. Alright, alright, most of it is made up for our personal entertainment. But we recently received a letter that grabbed hold of our attention. This letter was from an angry man who was dissatisfied with the service he received during his last call to a 1-900 line. We let him, Harry Palms (that's his real name, ok?), explain what happened:

It was really late at night. I was fatigued from a hard day of working down at the Wal-Mart, and doing my best to bring a smile to customers' faces. I'm the greeter at the local Wal-Mart. They may be smiling, except for the teenagers who kick me and run away, but I sure as hell wasn't last night, after the crappy call I made to a porno line. Anyhow, as I was saying, I was sitting in my bed but the problem was that I couldn't get to sleep.

I don't know if it had something to do with the 6-pack of Jolt cola that I consumed before going to bed. I turned on the T.V., but since it was late I'd already missed Late Night With Conan O'Brien. Disappointed, I started channel surfing. There was an infomercial with Ron Popeil, a repeat of Who's The Boss, some guy screaming 'Anything goes, even their clothes!', and some big breasted ladies beckoning to me. I became ecstatic, 'Whoah!! Big breasted ladies! Gimme some o' dat!!!' Needless to say, I stopped channel surfing immediately.

The ladies were hosing down a convertible, wearing next to nothing. I don't know why you have to wear a bikini to wash your car, but who cares? I'm glad my wife doesn't wash the car like that, because she weighs over 300 pounds, and I don't appreciate the neighbours screaming 'Free Willy!!' I called the number listed on the screen, 1-900-CUM-HERE, because I was anxious to speak to some hot looking babes who were anxiously awaiting to talk to me. I mean, I'm an average Joe Schmoe, and how often does one gorgeous babe, let alone a bunch of them, ask me to call them. I couldn't afford to pass the opportunity up."

"When I got on, I heard that the call would cost 5 bucks a minute. That's more than I earn at Wal-Mart, but I thought the call would be well worth a three month investment of my salary. The call started innocently enough, but then it went straight downhill. Here's how I remember the conversation:

Harry Palms: Hey baby! How's it going?
Cindy: Hi, Tiger... Brrrowr. My name's Cindy, what's your name?
Harry Palms: Umm...Colonel Big Wang
Cindy: Ohh, Colonel Big Wang! What an enticing name. It gets me so hot. I can see how you earned your name.
Harry Palms: Thanks.
Cindy: So where do you want to make love? Obviously, someplace big enough to accomodate your enormous wang. A restaurant, or maybe a swimming pool.
Harry Palms: Restaurant?

Here's where things started getting a little freaky. I didn't know what the hell she was talking about.

Cindy: Okay...we're in a restaurant. How about an Arby's. I'm the fries cook, and you're the guy who packs meat into the fridge. You look quite good at packing MEAT. Yow! I motion over to you.
Harry Palms: Alright...
Cindy: You rush me from behind, and start humping me like wild, virile antelopes on the plains of Africa.
Harry Palms: What the fuck?
Cindy: The grease splatters all over my enormous busoms, causing me extensive third-degree burns.
Harry Palms: Are you sure you're okay?
Cindy: If by okay you mean extremely horny, then you hit the nail on the head. Speaking of heads, let me grab yours. Oh, you're so big.
Harry Palms: Yeah, you know it baby. The Colonel is commanding his forces to launch a full offensive on your booty.
Cindy: As I rob your weiner, grease splatters on my hair, igniting it instantly. I run around the room, my hair blazing like the eternal flames of hell. I frighten the customers with my flailing, ignited, naked body. Several of them run to phones to call 9-11. My flesh falls of in large globs, and all that remains is a walking skeleton.
Harry Palms: You're really starting to scare me!
Cindy: My hovering skeleton floats in mid-air, and I fire laser beams from my eyes. One of them hits an old man in the eye, curing his cataracts. You're so entranced by this scene that you haven't noticed that your own pubic hairs have caught fire. You run around screaming 'Pubey-Dooby-Doo!!'
Harry Palms: Are you in need of some sort of medication?
Cindy: Shaggy drops by in the Mystery Van, and we all hop in. I catch you copping a cheap feel on Selma, and in a jealous rage I use my telekinetic powers to pop your head.
Harry Palms: That's it! I'm leaving, you psycho bitch.
Cindy: But I'm oh-so-horny!

After that, I hung up immediately.

Let this be a lesson to people. When you call up one of those porno lines, you better be careful. You might get some psycho who thinks she's a skeleton with super powers.

ED - All Content 2000.