mysterious caller

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Sick Telephone Games

 “To me, she exemplified the word, give. She’d just give and give and give; no matter what it cost her … she spent her last hours giving and being concerned about others.”  

– Dorothy’s Brother Jim

“Ok,” the voice warned, “now you’re going to come my way, and when I get you alone, I will cut you up into bits so no one will ever find you.”

For months, Dorothy Jane Scott had been receiving phone calls at her workplace from the same mysterious caller. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she just couldn’t place it. Sometimes he expressed fawning adoration, and other times, resentment and violence. He let her know that he was trailing her wherever she went, and he described details of her daily activities to prove it. This volatile, unseen stalker so alarmed her that she took up karate and considered buying a handgun.

She was employed as a secretary for Swingers Psych Shop, in Anaheim, which was conveniently attached to Custom John’s Head Shop. Swingers and Custom John’s were jointly owned services of the area’s vestigial hippie culture, so one could pick up a “waterpipe” at the latter and then go soak in the groovy posters in the former’s blacklight room.
Dorothy worked in a back room office and led a life far less colourful than the tie-dye shirts and multicoloured bongs sold at the other end of the store. “As dull as a phone book,” one friend described it. She almost never left the house for recreation. She was religious. She rarely dated, if ever, and worked from morning till night, leaving her son Shawn in the care of her parents during business hours. She was a dependable worker, and by all accounts, a kind-hearted and compassionate person.

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