JANET’S GOT A BOYFRIEND

February 11, 2026

by Rusty W. Mitchum

I’m pretty sure y’all get sick of hearin’ about Phone Creatures, but I get so many of the things callin’ me, and I’ve got to write about somethin’. I know most of y’all out there know what Phone Creatures are, but just in case you’re a new reader to this junk, I’ll tell you. A Phone Creature is what I call those phone solicitors that call trying to sell you stuff that you don’t need. I figure if you needed whatever they’re sellin’, you’d have already bought it. My wife Janet, will be kind and listen to them, and nicely decline. I, on the other hand, try to engage them in a conversation to my likin’. I got one just the other day.

“Yellow,” I said into the phone. I didn’t get a reply. “Yellow!” I said louder, and then I heard that click that tells you it’s a Phone Creature.

“Hello,” a female voice said. “May I speak to Mrs. Mitchum please?”

I switched to a French accent.“She ees not een,” I said.

“Oh,” said the creature. “Is this her husband?”

“Her husband?” I asked. “No, thees ees not her husband. This ees her boyfriend.”

“I see,” said the creature. “I’m sorry; I just assumed she was married.”

“She ees married,” I said. “Her husband ees out of town.”

“Uh….oh….uh….do you know when she will return?”

“She weel be away for hours,” I said. “Perhaps I could help you.”

“Oh, no Mr. Mit…..I mean….I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“You can call me Pierre,” I said suggestively. “And what is your name?”

“Oh, I’m Cindy Marshall calling on behalf of Citibank Visa.”

“Ah Cindy,” I said. “What a beautiful name. Eet means ‘one who has much beauty.”

“No it doesn’t,” said the creature.

“In my country eet does,” I said. “So, tell me Cindy. Why ees eet you call me?”

“I didn’t call you,” she sighed. “I was calling for Mrs. Mitchum.”

“But like I said, she ees not here. But I, on the other hand, am here. As I said, Cindy, she will be away for hours. Perhaps we can discuss whatever you want over coffee. Tell me where to meet you, and I will.”

“I’m in New York City,” she stated.

“New York? That ees too bad. I’m afraid I will have a hard time getting there from here.”

“Yeah,” she said sarcastically. “Too bad.”

“Perhaps we can discuss eet over the phone. You said something about a visa? I have a visa. I had to obtain eet to visit thees country.”

“Not that kind of visa,” said the creature.

“I see,” I said. “Enough with the small talk. Tell me, do you find my voice sexy?”

“Uh…. no,” she said.

“That’s funny,” I said. “I find yours extremely sexy.”

“I’ll tell you what,” said the creature. “I’ll call back later.”

“Do not call back too late,” I said. “She might be home.”

“That’s why I’m calling back later,” she said.

“Oh, you break my heart,” I said sadly. “How am I going to get to know you better if you weel not talk to me?”

“Listen buddy,” she said.

“I could listen to you for hours,” I said.

“You need help,” she said.

“Could you not help me?” I said.

“I can not believe,” she said.

“Wait,” I said. “I hear someone coming. Maybe eet ees her. Remember, do not tell her about us. She ees a very jealous woman.” Then I took my mouth away from the receiver and spoke. “Ma cherie! Ees that you?”

“Oh no,” I spoke into the receiver. “Eet ees her husband!” I covered the receiver partially so that I would sound far off, and spoke in my normal voice.

“Hey you French dip!” I yelled. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you hangin’ around here no more!”

“Eet’s not what you think!” I said in my French voice.

“I’m gonna show you what I think!” I yelled.

“Help me! Help me!” I said into the receiver. “Oh no, please poots down that hammer?”

“AAAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!” I screamed and then hung up. I was snickering’ when I turned around. There, as usual, was my dearly beloved.

“Ahh,” I said. “You’re not gonna believe what I just did.”

“I heard,” she said. “Rusty, what are you goin’ to do if that lady calls the police and tells them someone is being beat to death with a hammer?”

“Uh,” I uhhed. “I never thought about that.”

“You never thought?” she said sarcastically. “Imagine that.”

“Anywho, she was glad to get rid of me.”

“Lucky girl,” she said. “By the way, that was the worst French accent I’ve ever heard. You sounded like Pepe Le Pew doing a pitiful impersonation of Inspector Clouseau.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, not bein’ able to think of a better comeback.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “And by the way, for your information, my boyfriend has an Italian accent.”