Life continues in the home.

Well young 'uns, I've settled into life at the home now. Me an' Max like to while away the afternoons with quiz shows, and after a thoroughly boiled dinner, we like to exchange anecdotes with the other residents. We've taken up two pastimes reserved for the elderly as well: making slightly racist statements to anyone we meet, and failing to understand how our statements can be interpreted as racist. Max has really gotten into the whole thing, talking loudly and slowly to anyone who looks foreign, even if they speak better English than him. Still, something is bothering me, something I forgot. Something about... long ago.
 Still, must go. Someone's niece is coming to play the piano for us, and there's Bingo in the evening. It's all go, and I certainly don't wish I was dead.
 Must remember...

Too hot?

Image by Alan_D via Flickr "Callum? It's your brother here. Jake, remember?"
I didn't remember. In fact, I didn't remember being called Callum either. However, more phone-calls to my house were for me, compared to the relative few that were wrong numbers. Therefore, statistically, I was Callum. Having reached that conclusion, I replied:
"Yes. Sup?"
"Hmm... you sound different? Everything all right?"
"Erm... Yes. It's a little hot, maybe that's it."
This appeared to convince him. After agreeing lengthily, he continued:
"Tell mother I've joined a group of anarchists and totalitarian fascists fighting the Lizard Government. As such, I can't make it to Aunt Eliza's birthday. I've sent a card though. And wish Timmy the best of luck at his piano recital. I know how hard it was for him to cite the piano in the first place, so I hope he can pull it off again all right."
"Right." I replied, "Anything else?"
He started to reply, but I put the phone in the microwave with some petrol and went out to the shops.

Wireless phones are a true miracle of the modern age.