As I’m sure all present would concede, the four of us witnessed a masterful acting performance last night. Yet one question remains: which were the acted bits? On that issue, certain members of the audience plainly disagree.
Last night, Sophia invited her co-worker Stephanie, and Stephanie’s husband Thom, to dinner. I didn’t think much of Thom, but only because he proved himself an arrogant know-it-all who spent much of the evening couching personal opinions as God’s commandments. When, two hours into the evening, he offered an unsolicited ode to his fifteen-year-old daughter as good and innocence personified, I snapped.
I asked Thom whether any parent could be sure of a teenager’s behavior nowadays, what with drugs and sex so prevalent in schools. But he smugly dismissed my concerns. He also haughtily extolled his baby’s rabid stance against drugs and her firm belief in abstaining from sex until marriage. Boy did that tweak my last nerve!
Determined to goad him, I insisted no child could be that good. I also questioned whether he knew his daughter as well as he presumed. Not only did he assure me of the fact; he offered to prove it! He suggested a method too: since Rachael was home with one of her friends, he proposed that I make a prank phone call pretending to be a drug dealer.
Accepting the challenge, I performed internet research to enhance my authenticity and then dialed our guests’ home number. The others listened in as I asked to speak to “Thom,” to which Rachael replied: “My father’s not home. Who’s calling?”
I provided a fake name and asked her to give Thom a message: “Tell your dad my supply is in and I need to know whether he wants a dime bag, a quarter or an ounce, and if he’ll stick to ‘midis’ as usual or spring for the ‘nuggets’ this time.”
I assumed Rachael would ask me what I was talking about. Once she did, I planned to answer “pot” and then inquire if she’d be interested in some as well. Only, Rachael didn’t seek an explanation. All she requested was: “What’re you asking for an ounce of ‘Maui Wauwie?’”
While astonishment left me mute, Rachael made an offer: “I don’t have much cash, but if you’re into girls and you can get here before my parents come home, I’ll pay you in other ways.”
With that, the teenager’s parents could restrain themselves no longer. They simultaneously shouted their dismay through the phone. The two seemed so intent on yelling, I doubt they heard Rachael’s shocked reply: “Mom?!!! Dad?!!!” As far as I could tell, they didn’t tune in to the girl’s responses until she’d pulled herself together. The first words they truly heard featured their daughter’s sworn assurance that she’d known they were “punking” her and decided to turn the tables.
Sophia and I concurred; no one but a blind parent could’ve listened to my conversation with Rachael and concluded that her performance began the moment she picked up the phone, rather than the instant she figuratively got busted.