Wrong Person

A story about texts and tragedies

- Mike, it’s Liam. Come move your truck. It’s blocking my damn driveway again.

- Wrong person.

- This ain’t the wrong person, Mike. I know your damn car.

- No, like, this isn’t Mike. You’ve got the wrong number.

- Dammit, Mike, just come move your truck

- This isn’t Mike, dude!

- I ain’t got time for this.

- Me neither. This is a WRONG NUMBER.

- Then you won’t mind me keying the shit out of your stupid ass truck then?

- I mean go ahead, but like, you shouldn’t put that sort of stuff in texts, dude. That sort of thing could be used against you if this Mike dude prosecutes.

- Are you threatening me???

- What?! No, dude. I’m giving you advice.

- Well ain’t that real fuckin’ generous of you. You got any advice for someone whose windshield just got smashed?

- Dude??? Did you just smash Mike’s windshield? WTF?

- Oh I ain’t saying I did that. That would be the sort of thing you’d advise me against putting in a text message, right, Mike?

- I ain’t Mike, dude! You crazy.

- Move your damn truck.

- Why is the truck still there?

- I’m stuck in my fucking house, Mike!

- MOVE THE TRUCK!

- MOVE

- THE

- FUCKING

- TRUCK!

- You know you’re still texting the wrong person, right?

- I am so sick of your bullshit, Mike.

- My name is Patrick.

- Really? So your wife’s name ain’t Alyssa, and your kid ain’t called Henry?

- Dude. I AM NOT MIKE. I am not married. I do not know who these people are. Get that through your head.

- So you wouldn’t mind if something happened to them?

-What? Woah.

- Dude.

- WTF???

- Oh, all of a sudden I sense a change of tune.

- Yeah, because I’m not a psychopath. I don’t want bad shit to happen to people even if I don’t know them. It’s called basic fucking empathy.

- I’m the psychopath? Me? The one who isn’t playing dumb games with his family’s life? JUST MOVE YOUR FUCKING TRUCK, MIKE. It’s that simple.

- Dude. I CANNOT move the truck. I am NOT Mike. I do NOT know where you live.

- Jesus H. Christ. You really don’t give a shit do you? About your own wife and kid.

- Dude. Tell me where you’re at. I will come and move this truck. I’ll break in through its goddamn window if I have to. I will get a bunch of friends and we’ll bounce it out the way. Don’t hurt this dude’s family.

- You know what. Just admit you’re him. Just admit you’re Mike and I won’t touch them. That’s all I want now.

- Fine. I’m Mike.

- I’m Mike.

- Cool?

- I fucking knew it.

- You piece of shit, Mike. You messed with the wrong motherfucker.

- Dude! I’M NOT GODDAM MIKE!

- You just admitted it, you fucking idiot.

- You made me say it! I was trying to save this dude’s family from whatever demented shit is rattling around in your head.

- Any last words for your wife, Mike?

- I’m calling the cops.

- You’re calling my own boys on me? Good luck with that, Mike.

- Wait.

- No way.

- You’re a cop???

- No shit, Mike. That’s why I wear the uniform every day.

- I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! I don’t know where you live! I’ve never seen you! I HAVE NO TRUCK!

- If you don’t know where I live, guess you can’t call the cops on me.

- Anything you want to say to comfort little Henry on his way out the door?

- Don’t do this, dude.

- Well, I’ll tell him that, but it’s a weird last thing for him to hear.

- Stop this.

- Please. Stop this.

- Dude, I am begging you.

- Please.

- Where are you?

- WTF is going on?

- STOP THIS.

- Jesus, Mike. I really thought you’d stop me. I really did. You’re a sick guy.

- What did you do, man?

- What did you do?

- You want me to go back and take pictures? It really doesn’t end with you, does it?

- Pictures? Pictures of what?

- WHAT DID YOU DO???

- Wrong person to mess with, Mike.

- Wrong fucking person.

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Thank you for reading Something’s a Little Off. If you’re interested in sampling a few other stories, and reading an excerpt of my upcoming novella, why not check out the sampler linked to here?