Wayne Bennett Psycho Phone Message Aaron Was My Son

Hey, Davey-boy, jesus, Oh, yeah, you are going down.

Why don’t you call the Olympia Police and report me? Or better, yet, Aberdeen.

Oh, come on… Ya did it, ya did it, ya did it.

My goodness, Success Attributes… I mean, David. Oh, my goodness.

What shit-hole are ya livin’ in now, Dave? Your old beaten-down trailer, or are ya back out at rehab Brittney? Huh. Bucoda…

You know this is the best thing that has happened to me in fifteen years. And Aaron’s been right with me on this, Dave. Yeah, you know, the one that’s – uh – has a sex-thing with his mother. You know, that whack-o sh*t, Dave?

You and the Bob?

Well, ya know, Dave, I am the real deal and I have a good history, a good track record. My best track record might go down tomorrow. When I finally uncover your phony ass after twenty-plus years…

I’ve got a history so far on you, now, I come across the computer that’s listing a business license. A Washington State business license requires that you be honest and sincere and have the documentation and affidavits and the certificates, etcetera… from their web site to offer your services. Yeah, your or thirty – twenty–minute thing on Life Coaching. Yeah, I saw that one, you nut-f*ck.

Hmm… What about Tabitha or any of your kids?

You know? There’s so, so much sh*t in Aaron’s name. He’s laughing, right now. He’s just looking at me, I’m looking at him. He’s my son. Never was your son.

Cynthia…

Looking forward to my next call.

Why don’t you just call the police, okay?

Can I contact you for your initial consultation?

Hey, you can’t challenge a convict. Okay? Tell ‘em to come up with a DOC-number.

See, I can walk in any joint. And you can put this on You Tube. And I stand for who I am. Not for what you wanna be.

Who, you know? I find it comfortable, actually, to see that I’ve got you rattled that much.

Oh, the rattle’s really gonna take hold tomorrow, Nat. Ha. Or whatever the f*ck you’re callin’ yourself.

Okay. So, sleep tight… probably changing tampons, right now.

274410. From Walla Walla to f*ckin’ New York. Okay?

I fear no f*ckin’ joint.

Uh, god, I tell ya what…

Uh, huh, huh, I don’t even know why I’m callin’ ya back. But I get such humor out’a this. But the humor’s coming out the other side, Dave.

Call me.

Bye.

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