“Tony, play the voicemail for me, yeah?”
“Hi, darling. I’m coming home late so I’ll call for a pizza delivery. There’s a twenty in the fridge underneath the yogurt cups. You and Danny like pepperoni, right? Should I get that or cheese? You see, darling, this is what happens when you don’t pick up your phone: your poor mother, aka me, has to make all these decisions on her own. But guess what, darling? There’s this nice lady from the office. I think you've met her before when you and Danny visited me at the office a couple of years ago. She was demoted to the fourth floor today. Isn't that crazy? You would think the manager would promote her, but he says there’s too many people on our floor, at least that’s what I think he said. There’s only about eight or ten of us left on our floor including me, but I think he’s thinking of sending someone down to work as the replacement reception center person, whatever you call that. The reception lady broke her leg. I think it was when she was walking down the stairs last night and she’s still at the hospital right now too, but not the one I’m at because I think she broke her leg at the office or at her house. I’m not quite sure, but I do know that her husband’s friend’s cousin’s godmother’s grandson’s girlfriend’s aunt is expecting soon. I heard that they want to have a baby shower in December, but I really don’t know what to bring when I get the invitation. I mean, I shouldn't get something normal or extraordinary. What do you think I should get, Tony? Oh, and while I'm on the topic, where is your brother? He won't answer the phone either and I need--”
Beep.
“Hey, Danny. Get the keys for me, yeah?”
“Get it yourself.”
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