Darby Larson
Thirty years ago.
Eight years ago, Phone by Darby Larson. A boy. A man. A girl. A man gets married. Years later, again.
Two days ago, Phone by Darby Larson. The moon. The boy walks outside. The man who built the phone sleeps. The man who works in a Nacho Crisp factory drives to work. Rocky Balboa takes a shower. Tomorrow, once again.
Yesterday, Phone by Darby Larson. The boy sits in his apartment. The phone rings. It's a wrong number. The man who built the phone calls the phone booth outside his house. Again, today.
Phone by Darby Larson. The girl has a snail in her hair and the boy loves it. The phone might be ringing. The ringing phone is answered by the boy. It's a wrong number so the boy hangs up. The man who built the phone sleeps alone and never calls anyone. The girl who dialed the wrong number is drunk in a phone booth. The man who works in a Nacho Crisp factory is one of the truly happily married people on Earth. He comes home to his wife every night smelling like nacho cheese. The boy works in a snail factory and has developed an affectation for girls with snails in their hair. The phone might be ringing. It's probably a wrong number. The phone is white. The man who built the phone is proud of it though he never calls anyone. The boy meets Rocky in a bar and Rocky asks him if he's seen Edward Scissorhands and the boy says no, leave me alone and Rocky says, Yo Adrian, because she just walked in. The boy goes outside and lies down next to the girl in the middle of the road. They watch the moon move across the sky. The girl asks the boy why he is a bastard. The boy gives her ten rings and says, Wear these. The boy gives the girl a hairclip with a snail on it and says, Wear this. The girl wears everything the boy wants him to. The girl gets up and walks to the nearest phone booth. The girl is drunk. The boy lies in the middle of the road alone and answers his cell phone but it's a wrong number. Rocky and Adrian walk out of the bar and down the road, arm in arm. The moon spins around the world. The boy's cell phone might be ringing again. He isn't sure. The man gets home late from work smelling like nacho cheese and finds his wife sitting on the couch waiting for him. The boy falls asleep in the middle of the road. The girl gets a hold of her sister and says hello. Rocky and Adrian arrive at the apartment and make love. The man makes nacho cheese love with his wife on the couch. The man who built the phone looks out his window at the boy and girl in the middle of the road. The boy answers his cell phone and it's the girl's sister asking where in the world is he, and the boy says, Where are you? and the girl's sister hangs up. And the girl in the phone booth hangs up. And the boy hangs up. And Rocky smokes a cigarette. And the man sleeps and dreams of nacho cheese, of Edward Scissorhands, of making love and exercising. The phone might be ringing again. Rocky and Adrian fall asleep together. Tomorrow, Rocky will fight Apollo. Tomorrow, the phone will ring. Tomorrow, the man will kiss his wife in the morning and drive to the Nacho Crisp factory. Tomorrow, the man who built the phone will call the phone booth. The drunk girl walks back to the boy in the road and lays down next to him. They fall asleep together. Tomorrow, they will fall asleep together again. The phone, tomorrow.
Phone by Darby Larson. The girl has a snail in her hair. The phone might be ringing. The ringing phone is answered by the boy again. It's a wrong number so the boy hangs up. The girl. The man who built the phone sleeps. The girl who dialed the wrong number. The man. The girl. The boy works in a snail factory. The phone might be ringing. Rocky in a bar, Yo. The boy goes. They watch the moon. The boy. The boy. The girl. The girl. The girl. The boy. Rocky. The man. The girl. The boy. The boy. Tomorrow again.
Phone by Darby Larson. The girl. The phone. Wrong number. The man. The man. Rocky. The girl. The boy. Two days later, again.
Phone by Darby Larson. The boy. The girl. Again, two weeks later.
Phone by Darby Larson. Eight years later.
Thirty years later.