Dauntless

Even in the face of nigh impossible odds, some determined heroes soldier on undaunted, raging hundred foot rogues waves and spiralling pillars of fire proving no obstacle to them. Then there are the normal guys who have to fight against the more mundane stuff like mountains of paperwork and certifiably insane PMSing cellphones that have been possessed.

This past weekend I've been having heaps of trouble trying to contact Big Bicep Barry. Got so difficult I was tempted to call a PI to trace his whereabouts.

Since his embarassingly ancient cellphone has been groaning its death throes lately, SMSes seem to have disappeared into thin air - if not morphed into cryptic coptic clues - and the few times he's managed to get through to me has turned into seemingly Da Vinci coded missives that turn confusingly garbled at the most interesting moments, punctuated by fizzles and crossed lines. Messaged invitations to a power lunch are replied at suppertime and previously planned schedules are getting mixed up with the mysteriously missing information.

Sometimes technology can be simply frustrating.

Since some of the bloggers who dropped by have been intrigued by my frequent mention of the guy, we actually made plans to meet. Unfortunately the mountains of paperwork I mentioned have been threatening to topple over on the guy - and to add to his mounting problems, he hasn't been able to contact me for the sudden change in plans. Although I'd guessed the source of his satanic woes, it still left me a tad disgruntled and I couldn't help mouthing malignant curses - which probably made it worse.

Hence the sudden unexpected appearance of Barry at my doorstep tonight with demonic cellphone in hand, looking slightly the worse for wear - possibly after wrestling with his conscience and the fiendishly evil cellphone. Although unbuttoned, his shirt wasn't torn enough for me to see more of his bare chest.

Barry : See. It's going crazy.
Paul : Can I smash it into the ground? Crush it into little pieces?
Barry : It's the only one I have.
Paul : Buy a new one, dammit.
Barry : I am poor. Spent all my money on my cameras.
Paul : You know my moneymaking suggestion. The Kayu Jatis Male Burlesque remember.
Barry : Very funny.

It was true however. Shockingly enough, SMSes sent to the unholy object only disappear into the hellish pits of darkness where all but the most reckless angels would dare to tread.

Perhaps an exorcism is in order.