Dial M for molester

This has nothing to do with anything, definitely a dear diary type entry.


Somewhere about the sixth grade long before the days of caller ID I got a phone call after school;

me-"hullo"
caller- "there is is! who's this"
"robbie"
"I knew it was you I was just playing, hey it's your favorite uncle"
"uh.... (I stalled since I don't have an uncle that could be called favorite, and at any rate none of them sound like this redneck, but unsure I answer) Bob?
"yessiree, how'd you know?
"dunno lucky guess I spose"
"well Robbie, your mom wanted me to call you and talk with you about you peeping on her"
huh?
"yeah, your mom told me that you'd been peeping on her when she was in the bathroom"
"no I haven't done anything like that"
"well yes you have, and she's upset about it"
(finally several comments late I start to catch on)
"I think you have the wrong number"
"no I don't Robbie now you need to listen to me"

CLICK

The phone rang for the next two hours off and on, I would alternate not answering with picking it up and hanging back up. Finally it stopped around dinner time.

Never told a soul about it, probably should have.

I was so gullible that even after this I had doubts; maybe it was an uncle I don't know that well, or maybe that time I barged into my mom's room to ask a question and she was half undressed gave her the wrong idea etc.

Anyway I'm glad it didn't have any lasting effect on me. No, sadly this will not be last brush with molestation I will report.

See you on the next Oprah.


R

By the way I need to pitch my new 900 number, all your incest voyeuristic fantasies fulfilled.