The telemarketers stopped calling my home phone at the dinner hour and for two weeks bliss reigned. Then they began calling my cell phone. I tried every trick I knew to get them to stop–if they were selling solar panels I told them I already had them, if they asked for my wife I told them she had passed. I called them names and made fun of their families. I even told them they were interrupting a prayer service and spoke in gibberish and tongues.

Finally, after a few months the calls stopped and the texting began. I ignored their texts and they doubled and tripled. I didn’t bite and thought they gave up.

No such luck. They began emailing. The email floodgates opened and I put each one to junk status and they kept changing their names trying to get me to respond or open a link but I was a rock and after an interminable amount of time the emails stopped.

Oh sure, they tried the home phone again and that’s when I took the gloves off.

“Hello, Mr. Mirsky, my name is Skyler and we’ve detected a bug in your windows operating system. As part of our service of monitoring such things we call and let you know that this bug could turn into a virus which could affect your entire system . . .”

“Excuse me a moment, Skyler, I’m in the middle of something and need about thirty more seconds. Will you wait?”

“Most certainly.”

“Thank you, the goat was just about to mount your mother and I didn’t want to miss the picture. Would you be interested in buying a copy?’

“What are you saying?”

“My goat was fucking your mother but don’t worry your wife and daughters will not be left out; she’s a horny goat. Now what were you saying about my computer?”

“That is not a very nice thing to say, Mr. Mirsky.”

“Calling me and lying about your name is not very nice either. I am on the “do not call list” and what you are doing is against the law. Also, Skyler, I’m sure you are aware that sex with animals is illegal and discouraged in our country.”

The next day Skyler called and said, “Hello Mr. Mirsky, my name is Montgomery and I’m calling to let you know that you’ve been selected for a high speed computer upgrade by our team of upgrade specialists.”

“How did they come to pick me, Montgomery? And by the way what kind of accent do you have and where are you calling from. Montgomery was my grandfather’s name.”

“I’m calling from Minnesota and was born here that’s why my accent is a bit thick. Are you at your computer now so we can install the high speed upgrade?”

“Montgomery, you’re a fucking liar and you’re not in Minnesota and I happen t know you calling from outside the country. I think you should go fuck yourself.”

Montgomery repeats what I said to his supervisor and comes back on the phone and says, “You should go and fuck yourself too.”

“I’m too busy now; I’m fucking your wife.”

“He says he’s fucking my wife.”

“Well, Mirsky, I am fucking your wife too.”

“I’m not married Montgomery. And I want you to know that the Do Not Call Police have tracked your call and are going to be sending someone to beat you up—especially your mouth—so you can’t make these phony calls anymore.”

The phone call ended and all was quiet for a week when the calls started again and we didn’t answer anyone we didn’t recognize from caller I.D. The same with the cell phone and I totally ignored the feeble attempts at texting and emails.

I told my wife, Elaine, who thought I was being childish, that I finally beat the bastards. Then one day at dinner time with the whole family sitting around the table, and me slicing the roast, my doorbell rang.