I Got a Phone Call Threatening my Kid – Except I Don’t Have a Kid…

By Chef Bastard_Wing


I got the call about 11am yesterday. Fortunately, or not, my office is one of those that’s chilled about people taking personal calls during the day. Sometimes you just need to talk to a plumber, a venue manager, or… this guy.

Thing is, if it hadn’t been a withheld number, I wouldn’t have answered. If a number displays you can just google it later, and a few of my friends withhold theirs out of habit. I’m already answering as I walk out onto the landing, expecting an opportunity to troll an insurance agent asking about an accident I’d never had.


‘Hello mister/’

‘Sorry, it’s a bit echo-y…’

the landing genuinely is echo-y, there’s usually someone coming or going from one of the other offices.

‘…what name was that?’

‘Just shut up and listen.’

‘Um. Right, who is th/’

‘Right now I’m outside/”  Continue reading “I Got a Phone Call Threatening my Kid – Except I Don’t Have a Kid…”

Just Another Night

By Chef Vital_Dual


It’s about thirty minutes to midnight when my phone vibrates and starts to blare its ringtone. I jump off the couch and nearly have a heart attack. It’s just another night, one that’s been wonderfully quiet so far. After a chaotic Friday evening that lasted until five in the morning, it’s nice to spend this Saturday alone at home, watching whatever crappy movies are on TV.

I recover and answer it. It’s Mike, though I can barely hear him over the pounding music in the background. “We’re leaving the club now!” he screams. “The girls ditched us and Trent wants to get home early so he can go to church with his family.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “Did you bring enough cash for a cab this time?” Mike’s stories of getting stranded downtown in the middle of the night have become legendary.

“Nah, Jason’s friend has a car. He’s driving us back.”

I frown. “Has he been drinking?”

“Like, one or two beers. He says he’s fine.” He says something to someone nearby, but I can’t make it out. “I’ll be home soon. Don’t worry about staying up for me.”

“Thanks, but I’m not tired. That, and mom and dad told us to always deadbolt the door, and if I do that you won’t be able to get in.”

He laughs. “I’m not sleeping in the front yard again! ‘kay, I’ll be home soon.”

He hangs up and I go back to my movie. There’s something about mindless violence and explosions that just seems so relaxing. Or maybe it’s the fact that school’s finally done for the winter holidays, and my parents wisely decided to go on a cruise with friends for a week before Christmas. Mike and I have the house to ourselves: for him, it means no stern looks when he staggers home reeking of alcohol; for me, it’s no constant reminders to start looking for a job in time for graduation.

The movie goes to its fifteenth commercial and I head to the kitchen for a snack. As I throw a bunch of eggs, cheese and vegetables into a skillet, I hear a loud cracking noise in the backyard. I press my face to the cold, frosty window and look out, but there’s nothing out there but a few bare trees and some fresh-fallen snow. Probably just an animal. It can’t be easy to survive the winter.

My cell phone rings again, so I wander back into the living room to grab it. It’s Mike. I can hear sirens in the background. “Uh, so Jason’s friend kinda, um, lost control of the car.” It sounds like he’s holding the phone half a foot away from his mouth.

“Oh God. What happened?”

“We hit a pole. Car’s totaled, but we’re all okay. I think. Cops are here. They’re talking to the driver.” He laughs. “He’s definitely drunk.”

“No kidding.”

“They’re ignoring the rest of us, and there’s a bus here so I’m gonna on and get home.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I pause and grimace. “Wait. Do you know what bus to get on?”

“I’ll figure it out. Will call you when I’m close.” He’s gone, and I go back to the movie.

There’s a lull in the action, when attractive male protagonist and attractive female protagonist engage in an awkward sexual conversation, which might have worked if they had any sort of chemistry, and my mind wanders to my job hunt. A few of my classmates say they know great companies to work for—apparently mechanical engineers are invulnerable to the bad unemployment rate—but I’m really not sure if I just want to jump into things. Travelling would be fun. There’d be something immensely rewarding about sending Mike a photo of me on the beach while he’d be studying for midterms in the middle of October. Totally worth passing up on an easy job for.

A sudden blaring noise comes from the kitchen. I jump up into the thick smell of smoke. The omelette. Damn it. There’s about a foot of black smoke hovering in the kitchen. I run in, pull my burnt snack off the stove and open every window, letting the chilling air in. My creation is little more than ash, so I open the backdoor and throw it out for whatever animals are trying to get through the night. So much for that.

There’s some leftover pasta in the fridge. I’m happy to eat it cold; at this point, I’m better off not heating anything up. I settle down and continue the movie, but my mind’s going back to travelling. I’ve always wanted to go across the pond, check out Europe, maybe backpack through Germany, see the sights in France, practice my fake accent in Britain. What’s it like there in the summer? Hot, I’d bet, but not any hotter than it is here. Hopefully less humid.

Again, my ringtone snaps me back to the real world. “Now you pick up!” Mike’s shouting, but I can barely hear him. Wherever he is, the reception is terrible. “I’ve been calling for hours!”

I look at the clock and roll my eyes. “You last called forty-five minutes ago. Where are you?”

“I have no idea. The bus is going in the middle of nowhere. I have no idea where any of these stops are. Hell, I don’t even think they’re in English.”

I sigh loudly. Not this again. “How much did you have to drink?”

“Drink? I can’t even…” He trails off, replaced with a loud, harsh static. I pull the phone from my ear. A few seconds later, it disconnects. Whatever. He’ll find a way home.

The movie eventually ends, but it’s just past midnight and I’m hardly tired. Now I’m regretting allowing my roommate to convince me to leave my gaming console at school. This is the perfect sort of boredom for grabbing a sniper rifle and telling twelve-year-olds how great their moms are in bed. And then Mike could have joined right in. He probably spends more time playing than I do, and he doesn’t even live with me. I think my parents are relieved that we’re going to the same school. He’s been trying his absolute best to get his life back on track, and I’m able to be there in case he needs a shoulder to lean on.

A loud scream comes from the backyard. I go back into the now-freezing kitchen and grab a flashlight from the cupboard. I shine it around, but there’s nothing out there. The remains of the omelet are gone, and there are a ton of paw prints around the area. Raccoons? Squirrels? Maybe coyotes? Whatever they were, they moved quickly.

The smoke in the kitchen’s gone. I close all the windows and lie back down in the living room. I guess I doze off, because when I wake up it’s one-thirty in the morning. There’s been no contact from Mike, so I give him a call.

“Hello?” Now it’s like he’s talking into a phone on the other side of the room. “Are you there? Please say something!”

“I’m here,” I say slowly. “Have you figured out the way home yet?”

“I can’t.” Despite the low volume, I can hear panic in his voice. “I’ve been riding for days. Maybe weeks, I can’t tell. Transferring from bus to bus. None of them are going anywhere.” I swear, I can hear him whimper. I can’t help but grin. I’m going to hold this against him for YEARS. “I don’t want to get off. There’s something wrong around here. Something dark. It’s waiting for me.”

“Yeah, it’s called the night, and it’s not very friendly to blackout drunks, now is it?”

“Stop it. Just stop…” He fades away.

“Hello? Mike?” I check my phone. It’s still connected. “If you can hear me, just get off and grab a cab, okay?”

He comes back, with a slightly clearer voice. “We just passed Wedmore. I recognize this place!”

“That’s good, seeing as we drove by it nearly every single day when we were kids.” I sit up, and suddenly I’m feeling groggy. Time for bed. “Anyway, I’m gonna go—“

“No!” he shouts forcefully. “Please stay. Don’t hang up.”

“Okay…” Now I’m wondering if he took any substances beyond alcohol. It’s like he’s combined the hallucinations of shrooms with the depressants of beer. I grimace. It’s what the old Mike would have done.

“Just… just talk to me. How are things at home?”

“They’re good,” I say. “There’s a bunch of animals outside, making lots of noise. I think they’re raccoons, but they could be bears. Might want to watch yourself.”

“Cool.” The connection’s even better. “Just went over the bridge. I’m a few stops away.”

“And there you go. Was there any reason to have been concerned?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He pauses. “Man, I cannot wait to get home. I think I can hear my bed calling me.”

“Is it saying ‘Clean me?’”

He laughs, loudly and heartily. “I’m nearly there. Jesus, I’m glad the night is over. Thanks for not hanging up.”

“I’m always here. You know that.”

“It was weird,” he continues, “I couldn’t call or text anyone. I tried to get on Facebook, but it looked really strange. And as soon as you called, I realized where I was. It’s like it came out of nowhere.” His voice rises. “And there’s our street! I’ll call you when I’m near the house. Holy crap, that’s dark…” He hangs up. I go to the front window and look out. All the street lights are on, casting their pale-orange tint on the road. I gaze as far down as I can. No sign of him.

I’m about to go and clean up the kitchen, but my phone rings. “Where the hell is our house?”

I throw my free hand up incredulously. “The same place it’s always been, you idiot?”

“I can’t see it. The street is way too dark. I don’t even know if I’m on the sidewalk or the road.”

“What are you talking about? It’s bright as day out there.” I go over to the front door and flick the outside light a few times, showing off our snow-covered driveway, the one Mike was supposed to shovel before heading out. “There. Can you see—“

“I saw it!” he screams. “The light! Turn it back on!” I do so, even though it adds nothing to the overall brightness of our neighbourhood. “I see it. Okay, yeah, I’m close now.”

I look out the window, but still can’t see him. There’s just a pair of headlights coming down the street. “How close are you?”

“Nearly there. Oh, thank God, I’m nearly there.”

The headlights slow down at my driveway. “Are you in a car?”

“No. Do you know how easy a car would have made all of this?”

I scoff. “I think there’s a lot of things that could have made this easier.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then he sighs. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I swear, I only had a few drinks.” His voice lowers. “I’m done with that other stuff. I made that promise, and I’m going to keep it.”

“I know.” The car’s pulling into my driveway. It’s the police. What the hell is going on here?

“I’m steps away. The house has never looked so good,” Mike says. The car stops and two officers get out, both struggling on the slippery driveway. They take their caps off and hold them against their chests.


“What is it?” Mike asks. “I’m at the driveway. Can you see me?”

The world stops around me. This was supposed to be just another night. Everything I’d done—the movie, the omelet, those animals outside, what I’m going to do when I graduate—had been so inconsequential. That was the point. That was the goddamn point.

The officers are walking up the steps. My throat is suddenly very tight, but I manage to get the words out. “Yeah, bro. I can see you.”

“Awesome. I’ll be there in a minute. Thanks for guiding me home.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” I take a deep breath. “See you soon.”

“Can’t wait.” He hangs up. A few seconds later there’s a knock on the door.

I open it.

Can I Call You Sweetheart

By Chef TheTigersClaw

As a woman who worked the night shift in a call center for a very popular 24hr retail TV channel, I’ve met my fair share of weirdos that call into the center at night. Everything from masturbators, who quietly huff and grunt into the phone to people who actually yell horrible things at me. I normally just disconnect the call a quick “Thanks for calling —, have a great day.” about a year ago things got really bad. Not for the other girls in the center, just for me and at first I didn’t think anything of it. I thought nothing at the time about this guy calling in, just another creep.

Gods I was wrong.

I’m getting ahead of myself, I really should start at the beginning. It was about over a year ago. I remember because we had a pot luck at work and someone brought a full deep-fried turkey for Valentine’s day. It’s a southern thing.

Anyway, I had my plate and went back to my desk to sign back on to the phone. A few calls later of old ladies yelling at me that the necklace they want is sold out or that our jewelry was cheep I get this call, I start off with my normal spiel of “Thank you for calling —, My name is Ashley. How can I help you today?”

It’s quiet and then I hear “Hi there sweetheart!” I couldn’t tell if this was a woman or a man and I have so many old ladies call me sweetheart daily I brushed it off. I gave a warm hello and was about to ask what can I do for you when they cut me off. I hate being interrupted.

“Can I call you sweetheart? “

I don’t care really so I tell them “it’s alright, I don’t mind. what-” I get cut off again. Nothing new, it happens all the time.

“Do you have a husband sweetheart?” I rolled my eyes and thought, oh great its one of those old ladies. They get lonely and just want to talk. It’s starting to sound more like a woman, so I thought sure. Why not humor them, Maybe I’ll get a sale.

“No ma’am. I’m not. “

“Why not?” She was persistent. I hesitated to answer. I can’t really say, because I’m a lesbian and here in Tennessee I can’t really get married now can I?.
I like my job too much to lose it. Before I can answer she chimes in again.

“Are you not attractive enough? No boys interested in you?”

“I’m fine ma’am, I just don’t date. It’s not my thing. What can I help you with today?”

“Tell me about whats on the show.”

That sounded weird to me, If you’re watching our show, you’d know whats on. The hosts are very detailed in what they talk about and are non-stop talking. I rub my face in frustration, I’m getting irritated at this point. I don’t like having my chain jerked and I really hate not making a sale, but something told me this call was going to go down hill from here.

“Ma’am. There’s diamonds on tonight, It’s mainly diamond rings. “

“Describe them.”

“They’re three millimeter rounds set in..-” I stop when I start hearing grunting and squishing, Disgusted I just hit the hang up button and threw my headset. I went on break and after that the rest of the night went fine.

A week later, I’m halfway through one of my very long shifts, when I receive a call. I say my lines and receive a very happy response.

“Hi There, Sweetheart. Can I call you sweetheart. “

I had forgotten last weeks weird call, and shrugged saying I didn’t mind.

“What can I do for you?”

“Well sweetheart, how are you?”

I’m thinking in my head, fuck another chatter. I’m in queue, I don’t have time for this, but I have to play nice. I’ll let it slide.

“I’m alright, how are you ma’am?”

“Very good. “

I hear a grunt from the phone, but I hear grunts all the time from the customers shifting in their seats or getting up. I didn’t think about it.

“What can I do for you?” I’m trying to just get this order placed, I don’t care at this point about much other then the lunch I’m missing and the soft bed waiting at home.

“My daughter has a birthday coming up. I need a necklace for her.”

The tone of her voice drops an octave, I can’t tell anymore if it’s a male or female. I’m starting to get that weird vibe again. Somethings not right about the call and I can’t place it. At this point I’m starting to remember last week a little bit, but not much.

“Okay, Does she like gold or-“

“I need it to be tight on her neck, like a choker, but tighter. Something that kind of cuts into the skin. I bet you wear that kind of necklace. You sound like you do. I need it to be thin and small, so if i pull on it hard, I can make her scream. I bet I could make you scream too. I’ll-“

I hung up the phone as fast as I could, grimacing in disgust. I leaned over to my co-worker and told her what happened, she hadn’t had him before. Not surprising, there’s 150 of us in the call center, we all won’t get the same person twice. The rest of the night was uneventful, I like that.

The next day though was horrible, I feel sick just typing it.

The first call he asked if he could call me sweetheart. I said no and he hung up.

The next time, he screamed. “SWEETHEART DON’T YOU HANG UP. I’LL CUT YOUR-” It got worse as the night progressed each time his screaming got worse. It went from a simple ‘whore!’ to ‘I’ll slit your throat and fuck your empty neck hole.’

By the end of the night I was a wreck, I dreaded answering the phone. Since his number was blocked we couldn’t block him in return. I had to deal with him. I was getting ready to go on lunch when I got one more call. I answered nervously, Stuttering my lines and preparing for an old lady to yell at me about her order. Luckily it was and the rest of the night went smoothly.

The next night not so much.

He was my first and last call of the night.

“Hello sweetheart. Don’t hang up.” He didn’t have his fake high-pitched voice anymore, It’s a deep baritone. I was about to just hit the button when he piped up again making me pause.

“I don’t think Lauren will like you doing that.”

Lauren is my sister, What the fuck? I started to panic. Did this freak have my sis? What the fuck is he doing?

“your sister is very pretty.. Not like you. No, you’re a classic beauty, but her? She’s got a mouth I could fuck for hours. It’s so easy to do, I just have to tear the screen on the window open, She never locks the window. All I have to do is–“

I hung up the phone, grabbed my things and ran out the door, Yelling at my supervisor there was an emergency. As I raced to my car, I called 911 and screamed for them to get to my sisters address and what was going on. . I rushed over there as well and by the time I arrived, I saw my sister sitting on the curb confused and wrapped in her blanket with cops milling about all over the place. Her screen to the window had been ripped, but she had locked it that night. I’m guessing the freak had left. I cried, oh I cried like a big bitch. I was so glad she was okay.

But this wasn’t the end of my problems.

Work forgave me for leaving, and they gave me a new extension after listening to the call, but that didn’t stop him. It’s like he kept calling till he got me again. It took him a week to get me on the phone, but when he did. I was bombarded.

“Where have you been sweetheart. Did I scare you?”

I hung up fast enough to hurt my finger on the button, I couldn’t believe the freak had found me again. I was fucking furious, but terrified. He knew which one was mine.

I got another call. It was him again.

“Don’t fucking hang up, whore.. Don’t you dar-“

I wasn’t going to hear it. I was not going to be the victim. I had the hang up button and my sister was at my parents. I wasn’t going to let him get to me. I got another call, It was him. he wasn’t even letting me have time to get another person.

“I’ll rape that fat ass of yours, cut your throat from behind. No one will find your body. You’l-“

I ended the call, but not a minute later the phone rang and it was him. Angrier. “FUCKING BITCH, STOP HANGING UP, I’LL CARVE OUT YOUR EYES AND RAM MY-“


I felt proud of myself until he spoke again.

“You are now.”

I heard the phone click and I panicked. What did he mean? I tossed the headset and told my supervisor, Sandy. She was scared as well, we didn’t have this happen before. We called the cops and they looked over the phone records. Not much they could do though, He had his number blocked still. I didn’t want to go home, I didn’t feel safe. Two of the cops volunteered to take me home. One of the cops said he’d take me to and from work for the week, Which was really nice of him. I wish he had kept doing that though.

It had been a month since it all began, I hadn’t gotten a call in a week while the cop, His name was David, took me back and forth to work, but his boss said he couldn’t keep doing that so he gave me his personal number.

The first night I drove to work I got a call on my cell, as I pulled in. I just answered it, I didn’t think about it. I shouldn’t have. I really shouldn’t have.

“You look nice tonight, sweetheart. “

I flipped, I fucking flipped my shit right there and screamed at him, before lowering my voice. “How the fuck did you get my number? How can you see me?”

“I can see everything. When you shower, how you sleep, Which you sleep in the cutest way, Curled up with two pillows, your back facing the window. “

“Stop calling me, you fucking sicko. I told you I’m not playing your game, I want no part of whatever you’re doing.”

“Oh, but are. You started playing the game the moment you yelled back at me. Didn’t your mother teach you not to talk to strangers? “

“Fuck off.” I hung up the phone and got ready to open my door when I heard a loud thump from the trunk. Some one was pressed against the glass their face mushed up on it, something leaking down from their forehead. I freaked and drove right to the smoking area of my work, where I knew they’d be crowded around. I jumped out and ran to one of my main bosses. At the time my main head boss had no idea what was going on, so having me cling to him, screaming made him scream too. People were already running over to me and all I can do is point to the car.

The person that was pressed to the glass of my car?

It was Sandy. My supervisor. She had her skull smashed on the ground and then on my glass. She survived thankfully, She’s still going through rehabilitation now as I type this, recovering slowly. The bastard was out there, outside my car.

I was hoping the cops would catch him then, but they didn’t. I was on leave from work, they didn’t want me there in case it happened again. I was a liability, I could come back after a while. It was paid leave at least.

The calls didn’t stop, I was on lock down in my house, David and his partner, Rick, were outside during the night and then Two others during the day. David would come inside and get food from me for them both so they wouldn’t starve, I didn’t mind, he was nice to me and we talked sometimes during the night when I couldn’t sleep. Most of the time when David and Rick were outside the calls stopped, but when they were gone, the calls started back, I changed my number three times and still the fucker would find me.

I finally snapped and stepped on my phone, crushing it to bits. All I had left was my house phone, but even that wasn’t safe for long. Soon he called the house, I know because the first call I got after I stepped on my phone was him.


I hung up and screamed for David outside, throwing open my door and running to the cop car. Rick was already out of his car by the time I got there and I was clinging to him, screaming about my house phone before he could even speak. He was calming me down and taking me back to the house when I noticed something. David wasn’t in the car with him, I found it odd and asked Rick about it. He awkwardly shuffled muttering something about getting dinner for them. But I was persistent, I asked why he didn’t just take the car?

” I could have brought food out. Rick?”

I was getting a bad feeling, something wasn’t right, David never left me alone like that, if anything he would have sent Rick. I backed away from him, eyeing him as I slowly made my way to the house. “Where’s David? ” I was shaking and the way Rick just stood there made me uneasy.

“He couldn’t make it sweetheart..”

I bolted into the house, with rick on my tail. I made through the door, just as he reached me, slamming the door on his wrist. I almost laughed when I heard him scream.

“You fucking bitch. OPEN THE DOOR SWEETHEART, LET ME IN. I JUST WANT TO FEEL YOU. COME ON, JUST A TASTE.. you cunt, I’ll rip your head off your neck. I know you want me. I BET I COULD MAKE YOU SCREAM LIKE MY DAUGHTER..”

It was horrifying hearing him, but I kept him trapped till he wiggled his wrist free and I slammed the door shut firmly and locked it. He was banging on the door screaming, wanting inside and was already running to my room to grab the phone. I could hear the door starting to splinter as he began to ram it. I scrambled to dial 911, but as I got connected to the operator I heard the door break and slam to the ground. I rushed and locked my door, before scrambling to the closet.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“He’s in my house. Please I live at ———-. Please hurry I hear him-“

That’s when my bedroom door shook and I heard him start to ram against it, screaming sweetheart let me in.

“Please! He’s at my bedroom, I-“

“Ma’am please calm down, there’s help on the way.”

I was about to protest again, when I heard my door break off its hinges and fly into the wall. Rick was already making his way to my closet, I cowered in the corner and when he flung open my door. He grabbed me from the closet, but I struggled, kicking and punching, before he threw me away from him. I felt like I was flying as I fell into my night stand, Scratching up my sides and arms as the wood splintered under me. I felt my head hit the wall and everything got hazy, I remember I was screaming and I think I heard a gun go off, but at the time all I could hear was my head pounding in time with my heart and my own voice. That’s when Rick fell back, and someone else was there. I heard a muffled voice, but then that’s all I remember. I’m told I blacked out from the head injury.

I woke up in the hospital a day later, my head hurting like a fucker. David was there, waiting on me to wake up, apparently he’s the one that saved my ass. He told me after he arrived late, he saw the door broke open and heard screaming, He came in just as rick had thrown me. Rick was in jail now for life, after having his gun shot wounds treated, though I heard he was killed in jail a few months in. Should have died when David shot him. Turn’s out Rick had done this before, not just to me. A week after my release his daughter was found buried in the back yard along with four other women.

I was going to be his sixth.

Since then I’ve moved out of state, down to the gulf of mexico. David still calls me daily and I’ve brought him down here a few times during my stay. He helped me move. He’s become like a brother to me, I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him.

I won’t ever work in a call center for the rest of my life, I know that much.

That’s my story, I hope you guys learned a lesson from this. But, I’ve got to go, my phone’s ringing.

Funny, The number’s blocked.