Phone: The Sequel!

As stated in my previous post, my cell phone is a bona fide BEAST. Seriously, I doubt even the combined efforts of Chuck Norris and Jack Bauer could break my phone. It's that tough.

How do you know it's that tough? You might ask. Well before I explain, you need to have read this, and if that's out of the way, prepare yourself for quite possibly the most elaborate tale ever based around a cell phone...

Succeeding the almost tragic drowning of my phone, I accepted a part-time job working for a local painting service. The owner, who attends my church, quickly dealt with the formalities and put me straight to work. Being the new kid, I was assigned with all the pointless errands and other crap that the boss didn't feel like doing himself.

Honestly though, it's understandable. If you have dominion over a plethora of expendable teenage labor, why not abuse...er...use it?

Anyway, several tasks were assigned to me, the main task being to drive through ritzy neighborhoods promoting my new manager's business through the use of neon yellow fliers. Not only did I have to use my own gas to make the deliveries AND drive with a stack of those glowing papers in my lap, but I also was forced to drive past countless envy-inducing homes that appeared to have come directly from an episode of Cribs. No joke.

In fact, my manager's exact words were, "If the house doesn't look like it's worth 300 thousand, it's not worth our time." Now don't get me wrong...I'm aware of the economic crisis, but do you think that might be overkill? Just a little? I mean, unless you're melting gold and applying it to the walls, your paint is no different than anyone elses'.

So back to the driving and coveting...as I finished off the last of the holier-than-thou neighborhoods, I decided to call my boss to check in and make sure there were no other assignments for me. So, I reached in my pockets for my cell phone...

...nothing.

Felt around under the seat...

...still nothing.

Pulled over in a parking lot and searched my car...

...absolutely nothing.

By this point, I had realized that my phone had fallen out of my car, and I had broken into a cold sweat and had begun hyperventilating. I'm sure all of the people in that parking lot thought I was a hot mess, but honestly, I didn't care. All I cared about was how much time I had before my boss or parents called with no answer and discovered my costly mistake. Racing home, I frantically thought up an explanation to give my father, but to my surprise when I got home, he had some words for me...

Dad: "Called your phone, and some guy answered it. Here's the address for you to go pick it up."

Seriously? It was that easy? Needless to say, I drove at a much safer pace on my return trip, and arrived to be greeted by a very large, old man with a thick Southern drawl...

Me: "You find a phone?"

Man: "You lose one?"

(Nah, I'm taking a poll to see how many people find phones in their yards. Thanks for your input!)

Me: "Yeah."

Man: [Handing it to me] "Well, yer lucky I found it. It musta fell outta yer car inta the yard. Didn' even notice it til I run it over wit my mower. Than it a started rangin'."

....is that...even...possible? Clearly, the Incredible Hulk died and his spirit lives on within the confounds of my cellular device because the fact it survived is on the verge of an impossibility. It still works to this day. Honest.

If not the trapped spirit of a Marvel Comics character, it had to have been divine intervention which kept my phone in tact. And all I can say is, God bless America...

...and God bless the makers of LG phones.