The Cell Phone Story

Funny story –

So back in September, aught ‘2, I was doing a load of laundry at my parents house. A few minutes after I had started the washer, I panicked and realized that I had left my cell phone in my pants pocket. By the time I retrieved it, it was soaked and would no longer turn on. We thought that we could perhaps dry it out in the sun, so we took it apart and layed it on the picnic table out back, but the day remained cold and overcast – it wasn’t going to dry out anytime soon. Hanging my head in sorrow, I went back inside and layed down for a nap on the couch.

My father, college-educated engineer that he is, had a profound idea. If the sun wasn’t out to dry the phone out, perhaps a few minutes in the oven at a low temperature might do the trick! Whether this idea was ingenious or idiotic I leave for you to decide, but he proceeded to do so. After my cell was safely in the oven, he left to go to the bathroom. Meanwhile, my unassuming mother came into the kitchen and turned the oven up to 425 to get dinner started.

Moments later, I was awoken by my father’s shout, “Did you turn up the oven?!” Getting up from the couch, I saw him look into the oven before letting out a mighty, “DAMMIT!!!”

Here’s what he saw:
Wise decisions...

I share this story with you not to amuse you, nor to please any of you in the slightest way whatsoever. I do not want you to learn from this, nor do I wish for you to ever return to this website. I do not tell you this story in an effort to become friends with you. Indeed, I already have all the friends I need, and those friends I do have I distrust and despise to a degree far beyond human comprehension. I do not tell you this story to inform, entertain, or forewarn.

No, I have told you the story of the time my father burned my cell phone out of sheer boredom, and an utter disinterest in my well-being. It is 2pm on a Wednesday afternoon. I am done with work for the day, and shortly I will take a nap. A few minutes ago, I did not yet feel tired enough to put my head to the pillow, but after this lackluster post, I am now feeling suitably drowsy.

Good afternoon, everyone.

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13 Responses to The Cell Phone Story

  1. Laura says:

    Ooo… it would be sweet to melt it all the way down and see what becomes of it…

  2. Richard Moll says:

    Peter… While I appreciate your comedic gifts, I am beginning to get a little flustered here. You’re blog title references John Larroquette, and yet you squander yet another perfect opportunity to reflect upon Mr. Larroquette’s beguiling antics on Night Court. As opposed to a “phoned in” blog reflecting on an only mildly amusing anecdote, why not bregail us with the story of when Dan Fielding had to look after his bosses sexy niece?

    Or, for a more poignant touch, why not discuss the times Harry convinced various people not to commit suicide, which happened in the majority of episodes for some reason.

    I’m not trying to be critical. I just think this blog could be so much more.

  3. Roger says:

    Dear Peter,

    I hate you.


  4. kevo says:

    so did the phone work again???

  5. scott says:

    so you didn’t try turning the phone on after the oven incident? at least your dad had fun. :)

  6. Uosdwis R. Jawoh says:

    Well, it’s about time you blogged this story.
    Now, when are you going to blog about quitting Fazoli’s?

  7. Thom says:

    Really, Peter…when I washed my cell phone a hair dryer was more than enough to dry it out.

  8. Atryeu says:

    Yes please share the tale of your basket of bread sticks in the bathroom stall with us.

  9. peter says:

    The Fazoli’s story is a good idea. I’ll put that in the hopper for you folks.

  10. Atryeu says:

    Then do one on how you “left your wallet in your car, so if one of you could just go ahead and pay for me….” That one makes me Laugh out Loud every time you use it.

  11. Laura says:

    Wow – whole lot of “love” coming through with this post…

  12. peter says:


    Thanks for your comment. Deal with it.

  13. Adam says:

    Ah, another great tale from the chronicles of “the Chet.”

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