Dorothy Parker re-calls the Poetry Crisis Line

COUNSELOR: Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?

CALLER: Razors pain you;

COUNSELOR: Did you cut yourself shaving? Is it a minor bleed or–

CALLER: Rivers are damp;

COUNSELOR: Right. A serious flow. Can you think clearly and follow directions?

CALLER: Acids stain you;

COUNSELOR: Are you on acid now, ma’am?

CALLER: And drugs cause cramp.

COUNSELOR: I wouldn’t worry about the cramps, just find something to stop the bleeding.

CALLER: Guns aren’t lawful;

COUNSELOR: No, I said to _stop_ the bleeding…

CALLER: Nooses give;

COUNSELOR: Also not great. Unless the bleeding is severe enough that you need a tourniquet.

CALLER: Gas smells awful;

COUNSELOR: I don’t know who farted, but that really should not be your concern right now.

CALLER: You might as well live.

COUNSELOR: I like your attitude. Say, is there any chance I might call you back and put you on the line with Sylvia Plath, the next time she calls?


COUNSELOR: Hello? Are you there?



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