“I'm sorry, it's just that...” She trailed off.
“What happened?” I asked, noticing bruises on her arms.
“My mom's blaming me for something that happened in the family,” she continued.
“Would you mind telling me what happened in your family?” I curiously asked her.
“Sorry, but it's just a little too personal to talk about right now,” she responded, nearing me.
She kissed me, and again, and soon we were all over each other. I decided to get up and take this hot action to my bedroom. So we went, and after about what I thought was five or so minutes, I'm not really sure, my cell phone rang. I looked at the clock and I noticed the time. It was 11:03 now, and I was wondering two things. One, why did someone have to call me NOW? And two, who the hell was calling at this hour? Growling a little, I told her I had to see who it was. Answering the phone, I heard a gruff voice.
“You better not lay your hands on my daughter, you dirty son of a-” The voice spoke, as I pulled the phone away from my ear. Contemplating whether or not I should answer it, I decided I should.
“Excuse me, but uh... who is this?” I asked.
“Her father.” He responded.
“Well then, would you like to speak to her?”
“Yes.” He snarled.
I took the phone away from my ear, and told her, “It's your dad, he wants to talk to you.”
“Wait, that's what I was going to tell you about. He passed away, and my mom thought it was my fault, so she beat me,” She told me, showing me her bruises.
“Then, who is...” I began to ask, then hearing the voice from the phone.
“They call me Phone. I'd like my daughter back.” He said, and then he hung up.
After my girlfriend left the room, freaked out and wanting to go home, I never saw her again, to my knowledge. My house caught on fire the next day. When I returned home, I was horrified at what I saw, the charred remnants of what used to be my home.
I searched through the remains, and the only doors left intact were the bathroom door, missing most of the bathroom, and a closet door, singed, but intact. I opened the door to see what I would find. You know what happened next? A human skeleton, the size of my girlfriend's fell out, hitting the ground with a clatter. I looked back inside and saw a word, carved with what was probably a knife, into the back of the closet. Just one word.
Yes, this story is a somewhat realistic parody of:
“WHO WAS PHONE?” and, “And then a skeleton popped out!”