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Humor

A Telephonic Conversation

, A Telephonic Conversation, Captivated Chat
Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

by Mark Twain

Adapted to chat story format by Captivated Chat

Well, the thing began in this way. A member of our household came in and asked me to have our house put into communication with Mr. Bagley’s downtown…So I touched the bell, and this talk ensued.

Phone Operator
(Gruffly) Hello!
Me
Is it the Central Office?
Phone Operator
Of course it is. What do you want?
Me
Will you switch me on to the Bagleys, please?
Phone Operator
All right. Just keep your ear to the telephone.
Mrs. Bagley
Yeeesss? Did you wish to speak to me?

Without answering, I handed the telephone to the applicant, and sat down. Then followed that queerest of all the queer things in this world—a conversation with only one end to it. You hear questions asked; you don’t hear the answer. You hear invitations given; you hear no thanks in return. You have listening pauses of dead silence, followed by apparently irrelevant and unjustifiable exclamations of glad surprise or sorrow or dismay. You can’t make head or tail of the talk, because you never hear anything that the person at the other end of the wire says. Well, I heard the following remarkable series of observations, all from the one tongue, and all shouted—for you can’t ever persuade the gentle sex to speak gently into a telephone.

Me
Yes? Why, how did that happen?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
What did you say?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz. Buzz.
Me
Oh no, I don’t think it was.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz. Buzz.
Me
No! Oh no, I didn’t mean that. I meant, put it in while it is still boiling—or just before it comes to a boil.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 What?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz. Buzz.
Me
 I turned it over with a backstitch on the selvage edge.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Yes, I like that way, too; but I think it’s better to baste it on with Valenciennes or bombazine, or something of that sort. It gives it such an air—and attracts so much noise.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 It’s forty-ninth Deuteronomy, sixty-forth to ninety-seventh inclusive. I think we ought all to read it often.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Perhaps so; I generally use a hair pin.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 What did you say? (_Aside_.) Children, do be quiet!
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Oh! B flat! Dear me, I thought you said it was the cat!
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Since when?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Why, I never heard of it.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 You astound me! It seems utterly impossible!
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Who did?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz. Buzz.
Me
 Good-ness gracious!
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Well, what is this world coming to? Was it right in church?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 And was her mother there?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Why, Mrs. Bagley, I should have died of humiliation! What did they do?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Me
 I can’t be perfectly sure, because I haven’t the notes by me; but I think it goes something like this: te-rolly-loll-loll, loll lolly-loll-loll, O tolly-loll-loll-lee-ly-li-i-do! And then repeat, you know.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Yes, I think it is very sweet—and very solemn and impressive, if you get the andantino and the pianissimo right.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Oh, gum-drops, gum-drops! But I never allow them to eat striped candy. And of course they can’t, till they get their teeth, anyway.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 What?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Oh, not in the least—go right on. He’s here writing—it doesn’t bother him.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Very well, I’ll come if I can. (Aside.) Dear me, how it does tire a person’s arm to hold this thing up so long! I wish she’d—
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Oh no, not at all; I like to talk—but I’m afraid I’m keeping you from your affairs.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Visitors?
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 No, we never use butter on them.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Yes, that is a very good way; but all the cook-books say they are very unhealthy when they are out of season. And he doesn’t like them, anyway—especially canned.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Oh, I think that is too high for them; we have never paid over fifty cents a bunch.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Must you go? Well, good-by.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Yes, I think so. good-by.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Four o’clock, then—I’ll be ready. good-by.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Thank you ever so much. good-by.
Mrs. Bagley
Buzz.
Me
 Oh, not at all!—just as fresh—which? Oh, I’m glad to hear you say that. Good-by.

(Hangs up the telephone and says, “Oh, it does tire a person’s arm so!”)

A man delivers a single brutal “Good-by,” and that is the end of it. Not so with the gentle sex—I say it in their praise; they cannot abide abruptness.