Ike & Tina Turner - "Every Day I Have to Cry"

"Pick up, pick up, pick up, you fuck."

Nowadays, phone booths are only for freaks and the desperate. There are no casual phone booth users left. If you're using a phone booth, something is wrong. You've had your purse stolen or you've just arrived in a foreign city or you've witnessed a car accident or a crime.

"You fuck, pick up, pick u--Hello? Who is this. Cheryl? Do not hang up on me."

The sunlight was red inside the booth. There was red graffiti all along the inside of the glass, and it was dripping. Huge red dripping streaks, it looked like some kind of graffiti creature had slit its wrists and rubbed it on the windows, or maybe just exploded.

"Cheryl, give me his number. Give me his number, Cheryl. It's 2000$, why are you arguing with me over this?"

Despite being repeatedly, obsessively checked, there was no free quarter in the change slot. That was one of the best feelings in the world, finding a free quarter in the change slot. You could press "refund" for another 20 minutes, thinking maybe this phone was in the habit of giving out freebies.

"Are you suggesting I can't pay my own rent? He's a millionaire and he won't send me 2000$? You want me off the street? Then why don't you call him and tell him My God get your son that 2000$ now give me his number, Cheryl, so I can leave him a voicemail, please. I want him to hear my voice on a voicemail message."

Pay phones have a sturdiness not found in personal phones. Pay phones have that quality, like public drinking fountains and stuff you see in army surplus, of being ready for any manner of human use. Like they can weather the storm of any behaviour, no matter how you act a pay phone feels like it will stand strong with you. But you do occasionally see a receiver yanked out of its metal cord, lying cracked on top of the phone.

"Psychology is sorcery, Cheryl. I'm young, I'm smart, I'm goodlooking as hell. You don't think I can pay my rent?"

A car horn beeps. Jeans are like phone booths, too. Built to last but you can break 'em if you try.

"I'm giving you one last chance to give me his cell phone number. I've been in and out of jail 22 times, my lawyer wants to have me committed, Cheryl. This is the last time I will ask him for anything."

The sun beat down like a goddamn baseball bat. Like a goddamn frying pan.

"Just do me this one thing! God, you're sick, you know that? You're sick, Cheryl."

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