This was written on a whim, and took about…an hour, I'd guess. I know I should be working on my other two fics, I really should. But blame the story Pegasus' Answering Machine. It poisoned my mind until I wrote this. Hope you all like it! If you don't get some of the references, just mention it in a review and I'll explain it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Jackson, but I own an answering machine…sorta.
Jackson's Answering Machine
"Hi, it's me, Jackson. If anyone's wondering why I'm talking so quickly, it's because I'm leaving this message before fleeing as quickly as possible towards the border. Leave your name, your number, and your message after the tone, but please be aware that there's a strong chance I won't live long enough to return your call."
"Hi, this is Jack the Ripper. You have some explaining to do about stealing my name. There's only one Jack the Ripper in the history books, buddy. I may look like Bilbo Baggins, but there are some prostitutes that'll tell you that I'm one badass motherfucker. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go run from Johnny Depp."
"Hi, this is Gary Oldman. All I have to say is: I started the terrorist-onboard-plane shtick. Don't make me go Dracula on you."
"Hey, hey, hey! Guess what? Your bosses sent me to 'take care' of you after a little mess you made regarding Charles Keefe. I'm only fifty miles from your house, so start praying now!"
"Hi, um, this is Stacy from the dry-cleaner's down the street. Um...look, I know you've been paying me $20 a week not to bring it up, but I do have to ask why all your suits are soaked in blood. I mean…I'm just curious, I'm sure there's a perfectly innocent explanation for it. Right? RIGHT?"
"Hey, it's me. You know…me. All the snakes are set to be released onboard the plane. And did you know Samuel L. Jackson's on there?"
"Hi, Leese, it's Cynthia. I found this number scribbled all over five notepads and twenty Post-its in your desk, so I'm assuming it's your cell. Bob and Maryanne Taylor are back, and their mini-fridge went bust. What should I do?"
"Hello, Mr. Rippner. This is the St. Mary's Hospital, calling you regarding your hospital records. It says that you recently received a tracheotomy, yet you have no history of smoking or lung disease. We would appreciate it if you'd call us back."
"Only twenty-five miles to go before I kill your sorry ass! I can already smell your fear!"
"Hello. You don't know me. My name is Scarecr-…er, Jonathan Crane. Apparently, there are rumors circulating that we might be brothers. And incestuous lovers. It's all very fascinating, and I'd love to have you in for an appointment. And I have some experimental chemicals I'd love to show you…"
"Hey, it's Laurence. Guess what? BBC declared you the Worst Briton in History! Well, not you you…but hey, it's something! Bet that makes up for the ballpoint pen!"
"This is Jodie Foster. I'm just letting you know: 'best airplane thriller of 2005'? That title is mine, bitch! MINE! And Peter Saarsgard is prettier than you!"
"Um, Leese, it's your dad. I found this number scrawled all over your planner, so I'm assuming this is your cell. Where are you? You're not at your house or at the Lux, and you said you'd stop by to get your planner. It's not because I got another Dr. Phil book for you, is it?"
"Ten more miles, Jackie-poo!"
"Hey, Jack, it's Oveur. Sorry to hear about that incident onboard the plane. Who'd have thought a pen could do that? But if it's any comfort, I made the mistake of eating the fish while onboard a flight once. My plane was taken over by Leslie Nielson and Robert Hays. You hear that? Leslie Nielson. How bad is that?"
"Hey, it's Morrisey. I'm here with Gerard Way. We just wanted to say we're sorry about the whole 'name confusion' issue. Seriously, we didn't know."
"Hey, Jack! It's me, Ed! You know, your lawyer? I think you've got a really good case against that pen company. We'll call it 'indirect consumer endangerment'! We'll be rich! Just don't forget to wear a scarf to court, okay?"
"FIVE MORE MILES!"
"Hi. You might not know me, but I certainly know you. My name's Mary Kelly, and I'm here with Mary Ann, Annie, Elizabeth, and Catherine. Remember us? Just a warning: buddy, you are in for a very rough surprise the next time you come to Whitechapel!"
"Hi. Um, you don't know me, but my name's Cillian Murphy. You might have heard of me. I think people are getting us confused, because half the messages on my answering machine are for you. This one girl, Lisa, won't stop calling here. It's getting really annoying. Think you can do something about that?"
"ONE MILE TO GO!"
"OMIGOSH! CILLIAN, I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN! MARRY ME AND I SWEAR I'LL GIVE YOU LOTS OF BABIES!"
"Okay, you know how I've been promising to kill you and all? Well, apparently it ain't happening. The cops pulled me over for speeding, and I got arrested for carrying an unregistered weapon. And don't get me started on what they thought about the body in the trunk. So I guess you're safe…for now."
"Hey, Jack, it's Lisa. We're still doing dinner and a movie tonight, right? Hope so. Don't forget to disguise yourself. I can still remember what happened last time.
By the way, Dad and Cynthia have been looking at me funny. You don't think they know…do you?"