(waving fart) Sufferin Psychic Hotline. I'm not feeling good… so don't expect miraculous. What’s your damage?

Uh… yeah. Can you tell me if I’m gonna get a girlfriend this year? Like, for real?

(tiny fart, wincing) Kid… how old are you?

(even lower) Eighteen.

Bullshit. You sound like your balls just dropped last Tuesday.

(breaks character) Last Tuesday?! (lowers voice) Last Tuesday? My dear sir, I assure you, I am at least 18 years old… this is my own card.

Your own card? What's your bank account number?

Bank account number? Refresh my memory… where do I get that from again?

(long exhale) Kid, you called a psychic.

(squeaky) You don't think I know that? (lowers voice) Uh, you don't think I know that?

I'm not saying that… kid, look… I'm not getting blamed when you get caught using someone else's card. (silence) I mean, who's card are you even using to make this call?

…My mom’s.

Typical. Listen here, you little credit-card bandit. You put that plastic back in her purse right this minute or I swear I’m going to pull her billing info, call her up, and tell her exactly what her precious baby boy is spending her hard-earned money on. Is that what you want me to do?

(panicking) No, no, I… you can do that?!

Damn right I can. And I’m not your babysitter. Hang up, put the card back, and go outside. Or I start dialing her up and asking her out, and then I'm gonna be your new daddy and you'll have to hear about this for the rest of your life, little Romeo.

I thought he was never gonna hang up. I was having trouble holding that one in.

Sufferin Psychic Hotline. You dial, I smile.

Okay so my high school reunion is this weekend and I really need to know… is my old sweetheart going to be there?

(tiny fart) Yeah, he’ll be there.

Will we hit it off again? Like, is there still a spark?

(another squeaky fart, shifting hard) Sure. Spark. Whatever. Go find out.

But does he still think about me? Like… has he been thinking about me all these years? Or is he just going to stonewall me like all the other guys I've been with since him? Or do you think he will just end up ignoring me afterwards? I mean, because, I don't know, but I just want to be sure.

(exploding) Oh my God, lady! Just go to the damn reunion! Stop dissecting every possible scenario! If you’re driving me this crazy over the phone, I can only imagine the circus you’re running in your own head over this trivial bullshit! Put on a dress, show up, talk to the man, and live with whatever happens! Jesus—Christ!

(winded) That was too much…

(desperate) Sufferin Psychic Hotline. Make it quick… real quick.

I retired last year. Everyone said I’d love it. I don’t. I just… sit here. Is this really it?

What? No. This is just the part where you figure out the next thing. You've spent forty years doing what somebody else told you. And now, nobody's telling you what to do anymore, (farts) and it's freaking you out. Go learn something. Fix your lawnmower. Join a bowling league. Annoy the neighbors. Do anything. You're free! Don't just sit there for the rest of your youth while you've still got it just waiting to die.

…What was that?

(sweating) Nothing.

…Oh, it was something.

…Anyways, I thought of joining a Yacht Club, and possibly taking up pottery and knitting. Maybe I'll meet the ladies. I've been single, and boy is it getting lonely around…

(cuts in) Uh, yeah, okay, yeah… do all that, it sounds great, I'm sure you'll meet the ladies and score you a nice one, but I gotta cut this call short, duty calls!

Well, thank you young man. I sure appreciate this, I…

(cuts in) Okay great talk bye!

(yelling as he disappears down the hall) Not today, you treacherous sons of bitches—not today!