The Call Is Coming From Inside the House

I’m done with my graceless heart so tonight I’m going to cut it out and then restart.

— Florence and the Machine, Shake It Out

I brought all this
So you can survive when law is lawless
Feelings, sensations that you thought was dead
No squealing, remember that it’s all in your head,

— Gorillaz, Clint Eastwood

A typical American suburbia circa the 1970s and a typical situation. Parents ask a local teen to babysit so they can have an evening out by themselves. The normal rundown of instructions is given, there’s food in the fridge, help yourself, no sweets for the kids after 8, make sure they’re in bed by 9, and with that the parental units leave for the night ceding power to the babysitter. All is well until the phone rings. A foreboding voice on the other end asks a series of odd questions, unsettling questions. The babysitter assumes a friend is playing a prank so she laughs it off and hangs up the phone.

A half hour later the phone rings again. The same strange voice is on the other end, only this time more sinister, more menacing. Sweat erupts from her brow, her voice quivers, and she tells the stranger “Leave me alone or else I’m calling the police. This isn’t funny anymore!” She hangs up and looks at the phone with a worrisome glance, praying it doesn’t ring again, still hoping it’s a bad joke. She attempts to normalize the situation and watches some TV, washes the dishes, and puts the kids to bed for the evening.

An hour passes and…

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