“Hello, Kris,†a robotic voice replied, nonchalantly (at least, as nonchalant a robot could be). “Did I wake you? My apologies.†Either I was talking to a pyscho-robo-dick-from-the-future or this was just another orchestrated prank. For the third time that month I cursed the inventor of Craigslist.
“Naw, I was just baking a cake.†I swear things I say sound funny in my head before I actually birth them into sound.
“Ya? What's the occasion?†The techno asshole inquired.
“For not falling for idiot pranks.â€
CLICK
“Dick lick...†Instantaneously I was asleep again; therefor I am not aware of the time length that followed, but again I awoke to a phone ringing.
“Hello?†I asked in a polite telemarketing voice. Apparently I must have thought the robo-call was only a dream.
“Why, Kris, did you hang up?†If robots could sound sad, I imagine his voice was sad.
“I have a fear of robots. Therapist said it's a delusion but still, who am I to argue with my gut feeling?†See, I can be funny. “In fact, I have an unhealthy paranoia of zombies and vampires to.â€
“Is this better, then?†The voice changed from emotionless bursts of words to a smooth, static, British accent (again, you don't need to be detective of the year to figure out it was a voice modifier).