"The Phone Bill" -- Written when I was 17 in 1996

If there is one thing in the world that I hate the most, it would have to be the phone bill. I hate the anticipation of getting it, I hate the punishment I receive after getting it, and I hate the mere fact that it even exists. Personally, I think a mean old executive in a dark, gloomy office one day, devised the idea of a phone bill just so at least one week of every month would be extracted from every single teenager's life.

Every month, it's the same routine... As my parents are driving me home from school, they stop at the mailbox to innocently get the mail. Little do they know that this minor action sends their teenager who is sitting in the back seat, into sheer and utter terror. As they open the door to the mailbox, the creaking of the hinge sounds as if someone is scratching their fingernails onto a chalkboard. The sound gets louder and louder until my parents pull out the mail and slam the door shut, which now leaves a hollow echo in my mind. Before they drive up the driveway, they sit in the car slowly sorting through the mail, one by one. I can hear my father now,

"Ah, Kathy... another mission wants money, oh boy- the credit card bill, hey! Ed here says I'm a millionaire..."

Just then, as if Satan himself had visited my car at the bottom of that long driveway-- I see it. It's the big envelope about eight inches by six. It's the... (gulp)... phone bill. Immediately, my stomach soars up to my throat and I can taste my peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I had for lunch. Thoughts of those long nights spent on the phone that all seemed so important at the time, now are just instant regret in my mind. My father sees it, smiles his evil grin and says,

"Oh look, sweetie, YOUR phone bill came."

Those words make me cringe. Why must he say, YOUR phone bill? I mean, he could at least say, THE phone bill... but no. My father has to drill it into my skull that every month I am costing the family precious hard earned money by making selfish calls to friends. I hate it.

As the car slowly goes up the driveway, I feel as if I'm in a funeral procession... except that it's MY funeral. The car stops. I get out. As I enter my house, instead of running to the refrigerator and eating the usual snack, I run to my room, and ironically, yes. I make a phone call. I make this call because it is the last one I will make until I am off groundation. This call is much like the one call you get from jail. It is my last chance to communicate to the real world.

Then I hear, "YOUNG LADY!!! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

It had happened. They had opened the (gulp)... phone bill. I slink down the stairs ever so slowly and manage to put an, "I-Love-You-Mom-And-Dad-Ever-So-Much-And-I-Have-Never-Heard-Of-A-Phone-In-My-Life" look on my face. It doesn't work.

"You made $80.00 worth of phone calls in one month young lady! What on EARTH (they like to emphasize earth a lot) were you thinking?! How are we supposed to pay for this?! You are grounded for one month!"

Then I usually say OK, and go to my room. I sit in the silence for ten minutes or so, and do my homework. The next day however, the temptation is so great that I reach over, grab the phone, and dial those forbidden eleven digits. Then a month goes by... we are driving home from school, and we stop to get the mail...

I hate phone bills.