- Polite Fictions

Unbelievable! In the middle of it all Slicks pants suddenly became a vibrating mess of cell phone hysterics.

It was that ring tone. The ring tone. The only ring tone that everyone consistently either loved or hated. The one ring tone that always caused Slick to tense up right down to the last nerve in his sphincter.

Two months ago Slick had recorded the sound of his grandmother's two 12-year-old Pomeranians preparing to rip into each other as they stood their ground on either side of the prized and amazingly smelly couch pillow. Grandma had hobbled to the bathroom, which was always a lengthy trip, leaving Slick to fend for himself with the dogs he privately referred to as 'Satan' and 'Stench'.

The dogs had become pop-eyed animals of hate who, in their attempts to appear more worthy of the pillow by growling, only managed to make otherworldly chirping sounds and drool on the couch.

In his own attempt to survive another visit with his grandmother with humor, Slick had pulled out his cell phone, recorded the melee, and then made it is grandmother's ring tone so he would know to be prepared when he answered her call.

Even in his near-dead stupor Slick tensed at the sound, and the room became silent in an attempt to discover what, exactly, the strange chirping sound meant.

By the time it was over the every door in the place had been slammed open, every weapon was drawn, two more people had peed their pants, and beams of light were waving wildly through the gun smoke and dust...

...and a very smelly old woman was playing the part of a guilt trip tour guide by leaving a message for her grandson about how difficult her life had become since he'd forgotten his promise to bring over a small jar of Vick's Vap-O-Rub.