Laughter and hooting filled the house as my wife had Karen and a few other friends over for a mid-morning tea. (Such are the joys of retired life.) The chirping of a cell phone rose from the pile of purses on the sofa. Nobody paid it any attention — whoever it is can leave a message was the general sentiment. Sure enough, the chirping stopped. But then they heard it again. The girls noticed it, paused, but went right on with their story.
Then the phone chirped again. “Whose is that? Don’t answer it!” After the ruffling of half a dozen handbags, Karen held up her little chirper. “Sorry, guys. It’s Rick.” Then she added, firmly, “I’ll call him back later.” Back into its pouch in the purse the phone disappeared, just like a little kangaroo.
It rang again. “Hey, Karen, maybe you should see what Rick wants.”