I love the telemarketers
Calling me from India
The number says Ohio
(But trust me, they’re from India)
They say they are from Windows
And want to fix my laptop
I say, “OK. Really?”
And then I laugh my ass off
They say that they are serious
And this is not a joke
I ask “Which kind of crack is it
That you think I smoke?”
They want to get my password
And stick me with a virus
That has more STD’s
Than a twerking Miley Cyrus
They act like they’re incensed
Cause I don’t buy their shit
Then I start to toy with them
And watch them have a fit
I say, “I don’t have a laptop
I don’t even have a phone
I don’t know how you reached me
I’m not even home
Do you want to fix my pen?
I only write letters
I gave away my laptop
To my Irish Setters
You can speak with them
I’ll get them if you wait
Should be thirty minutes
They went out on a date
They might be with the Johnsons
If so, they’ll hit the bars
And usually after cocktails
They’ll go chasing cars
We can still keep talking
I’m just folding underwear
You haven’t said much lately
Hello? Are you still there?”
