Dear Felipe

This is roughly what I look like before seven am.

Looks aside, my mental faculties don’t function well/at all before that time. When I get calls from Felipe, and his friend who speaks slightly better English, before six thirty in the morning I become scared and confused like a demented 98 year old Alzheimer’s patient.

Felipe, “Senora? Soy Felipe, eet ees Felipe.”

Me, “Shmuh-shmerg? Shmuh-lipe? Snuguhguh.”

*Click*

I can’t explain why I answered Felipe’s first call at six am. I’d be hard pressed to tell you my name or move around without assistance at that time too. However, when Felipe proceeded to call three more times in succession I put my phone and my brain on silent. When I woke up three hours later I ate breakfast and checked my messages. While I punched in the code for my voicemail I thought absently about the fun weekend stuff I planned. 

Hiking, visiting the new library, getting pizza dough ready so we could make them later for dinn-Felipe? Felipe? Didn’t I dream that?

These are transcriptions of my messages. As I was listening I reverted back to the state of an inebriated orangutan.

Message #1

Woman’s voice, “Felipe is waiting for you at the park because you no give him the number to the house.”

Gah! Felipe knows my park? He’s at my park? What house? Who is this woman, and how does she know that Felipe is at my park?

Message #2

Felipe, “Hello, thees Felipe. I gwhait 20 meenutes. I keep gwaiting see chu.”

            Stalker! Felipe is stalking me at my park, and possibly my house! Bananas!

Message #3

Felipe, “Hello, thees Felipe. I gwhait hour, too long. I go…Thees Felipe…” Female voice interrupts.

No, not a stalker, he’s a government agent! That’s it! I overdrew on my bank account and Wells Fargo knows. They knooooooooooooooooooooow, and they sent Felipe to get the money back.

After Felipe called me the first time, and I went back to sleep, I dreamt that I’d overdrawn my bank account. Hearing these messages it made entire sense to me that Felipe was waiting at an unnamed park for me. It also made complete sense that the bank would hire a man, and his female companion/friend, both with questionable English skills, to collect.

As I listened to the last message I received a call and picked it up still trying to understand what was going on.

“Soy Felipe.”

Me, “AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

*Click*

In retrospect I realize that Felipe is probably not affiliated with the FBI/CIA/IRS or any other governmental agency. A woman, with a phone number similar to mine, hired him for something, and arranged to meet him at the park (which is somewhat questionable in and of itself, but oh well). Instead of reaching the woman Felipe contracted to work for, he got me, a slightly demented mute.

Dear Felipe,

I’m sorry I didn’t use my words and screamed at you. You have the wrong telephone number. Good luck with your endeavor.

Sincerely,

Goat