ELEANOR ALLEN. Hello who is this.

JOSHUA GREEN ALLEN. (sniffs) Mama?

EA. Mitchie? Isn’t it a little early for your weekly cry?

JGA. Ma, this is Jiggies.

EA. Jiggies, are you OK? Is somebody in the hospital with rickets?

JGA. One of these days you’re going to be right about that and then you’ll feel bad.

EA. Or then maybe I’ll finally get some respect for my intuition around this dump!

JGA. Well you get zero respect today because I’m calling about Mister Swiffer, Mom. Mister Swiffer.

EA. Remember that time the doorbell rang and I said, I said: “I bet you ten dollars it’s the police here to take your father off to jail for embezzlement.” And it was!

JGA. Did you have that premonition before or after Dad gave you a suitcase to hide and then ran through the screen door and took some kid’s bike and rode off and we never saw him again.

EA. Who needs video phone doodads when I can hear that horrible mean face of yours right in your voice.

JGA. What about the heartbreak, mother. Can you hear that? Are you listening, mother?

EA. Aw, you haven’t been heartbroken since that program you liked went off the air. The one with the two homos dressing up as ladies to get a gay condo? Good luck with that scheme, girls!

JGA. I’m heartbroken about Mister Swiffer and I thought I could maybe share these feelings with my one remaining mother.

EA. It’s just that—well, Jiggies, I thought we all agreed that your imaginary friend went off to college without you. Settled down with a nice, modest virgin? And every once in a while he’d look at old yearbook pictures of you two and smile sadly?

JGA. Mister Swiffer was my dog, mother.

EA. I don’t remember you having an imaginary dog.

JGA. My real dog, Ma! He was real!

EA. Son, since when do you have a dog? Are you thinking of Marisol? She could use a wax between her eyebrows but she’s still a human being who deserves your respect.

JGA. Mister Swiffer was just a crazy little furry-face! He was by far the only thing in the house excited when I came home. One time he ate a whole bag of chips and barfed it up in like fifty different spots—and I didn’t even get mad! Oh I just loved that little captain wags-a-lot. (choked sob)

EA. Well, did he pass away of rickets?

JGA. No, the neighbors saw him in the window and took him away.

EA. They can’t do that!

JGA. I told him a million times: “Mister Swiffer, you stay out of sight!” (chuckles fondly)

EA. Did you call the authorities?

JGA. Um no.

EA. Well I’m calling them right now! (phone beeps)

JGA. Mother, you can’t call someone else while you’re still talking to me.

EA. Hello? Nine-eleven? Did you hear about the dog thiefing going on in our community?

JGA. (aside) The neighbors called him “Steve.” Who names a dog Steve. He was much happier with me, you could tell. He shook the shit out of my hand, I’ll tell you that much.

EA. Hello? I request to report an official burglary and I demand your respect and attention.

JGA. (aside) They left him running around in the yard! No leash or anything. What was I supposed to do, just not pick him up and take him home? Just not kiss his little wet black nose? Just not feed him a whole bag of chips?

EA. I’m hearing gibberish, officer. This is why people in this country can do all the crimes they want and not face repercussions.

JGA. (sighs) Sorry, Mrs. Allen. We’ll go cattle-prod those criminals right away and then give them the chair with no trial or anything.

EA. OK, but what about those men in the street who have names for my cleavage and call it those names when I go out to hose down the driveway?

JGA. One crime at a time, ma’am. Good day.

—click—