3 The Old Man And The Telephone Scam

🅿🅰🆁🅺🅴🆁

Some say that cats can see ghosts.

No matter if you visit ITube, TokTik or Twotter - The Internet is full of clips showing nervous furry bastards hissing wildly and running away from seemingly nothing.

Bastian, a black and white British Shorthair was a prime example of a cat. He was extremely vain and leery, washing his fur every other hour.

Furthermore, he was a very picky eater. Compared to our late family dog Skillet who would gobble up anything that came near his mouth, Bastian always had to first look at his food thoroughly before sniffing, then taking a tiny test bite and once he was sure that his human did not try to poison him, he finally went ahead and inhaled the pellets as if he hadn't been fed since 1862.

Bastian also was very quiet and quick on his feet. He was a master at hiding, running and jumping and managed to suddenly appear in the middle of rooms when he had been asleep next to the bed five seconds prior.

But the one thing that surprised me about Bastian was that he in fact did not "see" ghosts. He seemed to somehow sense my presence but instead of hissing in my direction, he'd start running around like a maniac on speed.

His human, the 80 something year old Beuford McAdams would then say "Aye Bastian, did ye smell a rat again?" and honestly, the man wasn't too far off. I had been called a rat many times in my life by teachers, ex girlfriends and of course my parents. Over the years I had grown immune to the word and even accepted it as a part of my identity.

Parker the rat.

At first I didn't know what to do with Beuford. Yes, both Karen and Herb had explained the whole KP system to me but how could I help this man without actually being able to touch anything or communicate?

Well, that's not entirely true. I was able to interact with objects but that needed a lot of practice and concentration, so much so that it took me several days until I was able to open the newspaper. And although I did have a voice, I didn't dare to talk to Beuford either. If he was to have a heart attack because of me, I probably would've gone to hell right away.

The first few days I was just floating around, watching the man and his cat, studying their everyday lives but it got boring very quickly. I even grew sick of the skiing competitions Beuford played all day long on his small TV even though I used to love watching those together with my dad when I was younger.

So instead I decided to take a look around the apartment building.

Not having a physical form allowed me to fly through walls and ceilings without any problem. There were 9 families in total and by the end of the first week I had remembered all the faces and names.

It was like an immersive reality TV experience, as if someone had put a pair of amazing VR glasses on my head and pushed me into a less glamorous set of Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

It only took me one day to figure out why Mr. Lanchester on floor five didn't make love to his wife anymore, something Mrs. Lanchester had been failing to figure out for years. (Hint: The solution may or may not have included the divorced Ms. Lina Abraham on floor 2.)

But my favorite flat to hang out at was that of a young guy called Jake Jacobson (no, I'm not kidding) who had an amazing taste in interior design and a huge flat TV.

I used the chance to watch Comedy Central whenever he went out which happened to be quite often.

One day, while floating around as usual and watching another rerun American Dad, I got an amazing idea on how I could help Beuford and finally get some KP. (My balance was still at 12 at this point, I checked several times a day. Luckily me invading everyone's privacy didn't cost me any points either.)

I found his phone number inside a pocket book and then, the next day when Jake left for who knows what, I sneaked into his flat and went straight to the telephone. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what an old man with nothing but his cat and TV is missing.

Company.

"Yes, hello?"

I had cleared my throat, scoring myself for not memorizing some lines beforehand.

"Good afternoon, is this Beuford McAdams?"

" 'Tis."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. McAdams. My name is..."

I quickly looked around the room but the only help I got was a vintage Beatles poster.

"Ringo Starr...fish."

At that moment I wanted to throw myself out the window.

"Ringo Starrfish? That sounds familiar..."

"Err, I don't think we know each other but I work at...um...New Old Friends. We are a non-profit organisation that brings people like you together with people like us. Did you know that 90% of seniors above 70 feel lonely?"

"Really? 90%?"

"Yes, it's awful. But it doesn't have to be that way. If you feel like you could use someone to talk to from time to time, we would love for you to become a part of New Old Friends. Of course this service is completely free of cost. We are volunteers that would call you once or twice a week and have a friendly chat with you. Does this sound like something you might be interested in?"

God, I was impressed with myself. So many consecutive sentences without any preparation.

"I'm not sure. What did you say your organisation was called again?"

"Uh...it's...Old...New Old Friends. Like I said, this is completely free of charge, we are all volunteers..."

"Oye, stop repeating everything. I'm old but not senile. Sure, sure, put me on your list. You can call me whatever time in the evening but not from 6 to 7, that's when I have my dinner."

"Yes, I know."

"What?"

If I had a hand back then, I would have face palmed myself into unconsciousness right that second.

"I meant that we generally don't call around that time because it's when most people have dinner."

"Oh. Righto."

Awkward silence.

"Anything else?"

"Oh no, no. I put you on our list and you will receive the first call soon. Would tomorrow suit you?"

And that is how it started. Every Tuesday and Friday around 5 I would sneak into Jake Jacobson's apartment and call Beuford to talk to him for an hour.

Honestly, his stories were mostly boring and nothing I didn't already know but I tried to act interested and show empathy which isn't something that flows naturally for me.

I mean, why be empathetic for an old, bitter man when I'm the one floating around this hated planet as a ghost? But the constant updates of my KP balance kept me going.

After only 3 weeks I was already at 80 and soon I talked Beuford into three calls a week instead of two.

He didn't mind, he actually seemed delighted to have found a new old friend and somewhere inside of me I felt a little bad for exploiting his loneliness like this since I wouldn't stay forever and one day just disappear.

Eventually he started telling me about his family, how he hasn't seen his daughter and her children in a year because since the death of his wife and son there are just too many painful memories. That's why he bought Bastian.

It made sense to me, I had seen those birthday and Christmas cards neatly placed onto the cupboard in the hallway.

Beuford also told me about his weak heart that forced him to stay inside most of the time. He only left the house to buy groceries or to go to the graveyard. Hearing him trusting me with all these stories scared me. I had never been trusted before. But hey, it earned me good points.

After one and a half months I had reached 202 KP and although this was almost twenty times as much as the amount I had started with, it was still light years away from the needed 20.000. So when I suddenly got a message in my inbox inviting me to a new job with potentially greater earnings, I didn't hesitate accepting it.

I was told that the next morning I would be transferred and that I should use the time to say goodbye. At first that seemed dumb. Why say goodbye to someone who wouldn't even care that you're gone?

But then I remembered Beuford and how he had grown more and more talkative during our phone calls. I had to at least end this scam properly. So after I had chased Bastian around the flat one last time I made my way to Jake's place and got his phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello Beuford, this is Ringo from-"

"Oh Ringo! But we never talk on Mondays? Well, it don't matter. Something hilarious happened this morning! I-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Beuford. But I'm not calling to talk. In fact, I have some bad news. New Old Friends ran out of fundings, we had to give up our office and lots of volunteers, including me, had to be let go. I'm calling to say goodbye."

"Oh..."

"We thank you so much for participating. If you ever feel lonely, maybe try going outside more. Your neighbor Ms. Masel for example is a lovely old lady that would be great company."

"How do you know about Sarah?"

"Goodbye Beuford and all the best."

I wasn't ready for any more explanations so I just put down the phone, finished the current Futurama episode and then made my way out of the apartment to float through the neighborhood before transferring.

But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, two thoughts just wouldn't leave my mind:

1. Why did I have to be so sappy over an old bitter man?

2. Will he be okay?