Something rather weird happened to me this morning. In the past, I’ve received an occasional call asking for Legend. Perhaps they call him that because of his legendary crack dealing abilities. The whole thing had a weird vibe to me – an unusual name, with rather strange sounding people, definitely not from this area. One day, it got out of hand when this one stupid woman called at least twenty times in a day. That past, and I sort of forgot about it.
Today, I got an automated call, telling me I had a collect call from Northampton Prison. “Call from… It’s Legend. Pick up.” Needless to say, I blocked all calls from the facility, as provided in the options. The guy sounded like the guy who called here FOR Legend. Why would people call here for someone, then the alleged person call here? It just makes no sense, and the more I try to think about it, the more that it seems like it aught to make some kind of sense, but the more it doesn’t.
Have I simply become the victim of a misunderstanding, or perhaps something more sinister? Have some people harassed me for some reason on purpose? Maybe I’ve uncovered Philadelphia’s major crack-dealing gang or something. It has that kind of feeling. Clearly, these people do not represent the cream of the crop so to speak. Actually, it reminds me of something straight out of the movie Idiocracy. These two people go into the future- an average white guy and a black prostitute. She feels worried about her pimp, named Upgrayedd. In the future, she attempts to place a call to him. The computer tells her to state the name of the person she wants to call. “Upgrayedd.” she says with her accent. “There are eight thousand listings for…. Upgrayedd.” the computer replies, mimicking her accent in a funny way. You have to hear it to get it, but it sounded exactly like that. And what of Legend? Did he waste his only call on a wrong number? Bummer for him! Now will a bunch of guys beat him to death with a bar of soap
wrapped in a sock? Perhaps the name Legend just means a gang code for crack dealer or something.
These remain unsolved mysteries, and I just wanted to blog it for a public record, and just to get it down, because the whole thing seems very weird. My Mom suggested I call the phone company, and I may if I continue to feel creped out, or if a van of armed black men pulls up at my house. Good Goddess protect us! Hopefully, it’ll just blow over. I suspect it will. Stay away from crack!
