Click-Clack

Mads, my Norwegian companion, Matty, my personal biographer, Gwen, the Cappie, and I were all discussing the finale of The Pick-up Artist at my apartment, when the phone went off.

"Hello?"

"'Ello."

"Who is this?"

"This head ball coach*."

"What? Who the hell are you?"

"Well yeah, I told you he could really go, din I?"

"What in God's hell are you talking about?"

"All right now, click-clack."

And the line went dead.

"Who was that?" Mads said.

"I have no idea. Maybe a wrong number, or a drug deal gone bad. Anyway, where were we?"

"Saying that Dylan guy looked like a lesbian after Brady gave him his make-over."

*There is really no punctuation mark in the English language suitable to denote the omission of the word "is" between the "this" and "head ball coach" in that sentence due to a thick Southern accent. But it should read like that.