I was reminded recently via a Facebook memory of how I awoke to a strange message on my phone.
I recall reviewing the message metadata before actually going to the message, as any good sleuth would do, I noticed that it was received at 1:23 am.
That by itself was most peculiar.
First, because all the numbers were in sequential order. 1-2-3.
And second, because that’s when I would have been deep in restful, beauty enhancing slumber. Well into it.
I was intrigued.
Bleary eyed, I had opened the message.
What I saw made my heart quicken.
It was an audio message. No words. No pictures. Just the audio clip.
Strange. Very strange.
Against my better judgement, with an ominous electric chill coursing through the length of my spine, I pressed play.
The sound that filled my ears caused the skin on my body to crawl, goose flesh instantly breaking the surface, each little mound capped by a luxurious hair pulled instantly erect by those little pili.
For those who know me, you know I’m not perturbed easily. My affect stable, unshakeable in the face of virtually all events and incidents.
You know the ground beneath my feet typically remains firm. You also know I can’t swim, so that’s why I stay on solid ground.
But this message left me unbalanced, deep to my soul if I have one. It was a new feeling for me. Spinning in an abyss of water. Turbulent. Dizzying. The world falling around me. The collapse.
I can’t even do justice in trying to describe the sound that assailed my ears.
Imagine, if you will, the unabashed, soulful braying of a 75 year old donkey as it does Friday night karaoke after a few too many tequila shots amongst a herd of fornicating bonobos, of which a few are scraping their fingernails across a chalk board.
That’s the closest I can get to describing the horror that assailed my sensitive eardrums.
The tightness in my chest increased as the sound played on. The palpitations. The soft gasps of my shallow breaths, ragged, belying a man under tremendous stress. The small beads of ice cold sweat breaking out on my upper lip. Nearing the breaking point.
Until the sound stopped.
I pressed play again.
I can’t explain what compelled me to do so, but it had to be done.
The impact was no less devastating.
And again. A third time. Trying to wrap my head around what it was that I was hearing…It was not possible, but there it was.
It was not a wrong number.
This was no mistake.
It was a message meant for me.
This was no mistake.
It was punitive, of that I was certain. A veiled threat?
I picked up my phone and shot off a quick message to the sender.
“WHY DID YOU RECORD ME SNORING?”

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