— Hello.
— Hi, is this Gabriel?
— Yes. Who is this?
— Jake.
— Jake?
— Yeah.
— Jake who?
— Jake from the grocery store.
— Grocery store? What grocery store?
— The one down the road.
— Jake… do I know you?
— I know your father.
— You know my father? What’s this about?
— Your father is gay.
— Excuse me?
— Your father is gay.
— I heard you the first time.
— OK.
— You called me to tell me that my father is gay? Is this a joke? Who are you?
— I’m Jake.
— Look buddy, I’m going to hang up. My father is not gay.
— Yes he is. I saw him blowing a homeless guy behind a dumpster.
— Wha… what is this?
— Your father is gay because he did that.
— You’re a fucking moron. Do you really expect me to believe you?
— I’m just telling you what happened.
— And why are you telling me this, huh? You want something from me?
— No. I thought that maybe you’d like to know. You can do whatever you want with this information.
— OK, I’ve had enough. My father is happily married to my mother for 35 years; he’s a tenured professor; he’s a well-known, respectable man who is beloved in the community – and fuck you for lying about him like that to me over the phone. How dare you!
— I’m not lying. I know him pretty well. I was shocked to see him blowing that black guy behind that dumpster.
— Stop it. Black guy, really?
— Yes. He was sucking homeless black cock when I saw him.
— Go to hell!
— He saw me too.
— Uh… who? My father saw you?
— Yes. He looked at me surprised, blinked twice, then went back to sucking cock.
— This conversation is over.
— He had cum dripping from his mouth.
— Enough! Go fuck yourself you sick fuck! And don’t call this number again, you hear me? I’ll talk to my father and I swear, if this is some kind of—
— You can’t. He’s dead.
— What?
— Your father is dead. I shot him.
— You shot my father?!
— Yes. I shot him with a rifle. That type of behavior is unacceptable.
