ROBERT BENCHLEY (counselor): Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
DOROTHY PARKER (caller): You come right over here and
BENCHLEY: We don’t do house calls.
PARKER: Explain
BENCHLEY: I can’t go there, but I can send an emergency poet–or the grammar police.
PARKER: Why they are having another year.
BENCHLEY: Would you rather be stuck in the previous one?
[from a telegram Dorothy Parker sent to Robert Benchley on December 31, 1929]
Because a friend rightly pointed out that the last post didn’t offer a lot of options for women to choose from.
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?
CALLER:
COUNSELOR: Hello? Are you there?
CALLER:
COUNSELOR: Hello?
STAFFER: Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
CALLER: A single flow’r he sent me,
STAFFER: Is that a problem?
CALLER: since we met.
STAFFER: I can see where that would be annoying. How long has it been?
CALLER: All tenderly his messenger he chose;
STAFFER: Yes, that could be a problem too, if he’s paying more attention to the delivery person.
CALLER: Deep-hearted,
STAFFER: How would he know about the messenger’s heart, exactly?
CALLER: pure,
STAFFER: Again, how would he know?
CALLER: with scented dew still wet –
STAFFER: Was she a bicycle messenger? They can get kind of sweaty.
CALLER: One perfect rose.
STAFFER: Now, now. I know you’re feeling neglected, but there’s no reason to get sarcastic about how the messenger smells.
CALLER: I knew the language of the floweret;
STAFFER: Wow. Can you teach me? I talk to the trees, but they never listen to me.
CALLER: ‘My fragile leaves,’ it said,
STAFFER: Sounds like a wimpy flower.
CALLER: ‘his heart enclose.’
STAFFER: OK, sounds like a creepy flower.
CALLER: Love long
STAFFER: Long is good. But I like all shapes and sizes.
CALLER: has taken
STAFFER: Wait, what? I know he’s taken. I’m not after your man.
CALLER: for his
STAFFER: Look lady, you called me. I’m not after your man for his money, not for his body, not for his–
CALLER: amulet
STAFFER: –Wait. Are you dating Doctor Strange? Because in that case I might be after your–
CALLER: One perfect rose.
STAFFER: You mean you’re actually dating a flower?
CALLER: Why is it no one ever sent me yet / One perfect limousine,
STAFFER: That would be hard to deliver by bicycle.
CALLER: do you suppose?
STAFFER: Well, yeah. Think about the logistics.
CALLER: Ah no,
STAFFER: Don’t worry. I’m sure they abandoned the concept before anyone got hurt in testing.
CALLER: it’s always just my luck to get / One perfect rose.
STAFFER: It’s not my job to judge your lifestyle choices. But if things get intimate, you may want to watch out for the thorns.
CALLER:
STAFFER: I mean, it’s not like being crushed under a limousine, but still…