“Your Fantasy Is Billing” [Phone rings] Thank you for calling Fantasy After Dark, where dreams come true— subject to availability, exhaustion, and a three-minute minimum. Beep. Hi, gorgeous. No, I’m not wearing anything. Except compression socks and a headset. Clock’s running. [Verse 1] It’s eleven fifty-seven, I’ve been charming since eight, telling lonely little strangers they’re my favorite soulmate. I’ve been breathless, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been aching for your call, while microwaving noodles and removing bathroom mold. You ask, “Baby, are you lonely?” I say, “Terribly, it’s true.” But the loneliness gets softer at a dollar ninety-two. You want mystery and passion, danger, silk, and sin. I’m in sweatpants eating crackers with a coupon tucked within. [Pre-Chorus] Yes, I’m listening. You’re fascinating. No, that story doesn’t frighten me at all. Please continue. Take your time, dear. Every pause improves my quarterly haul. [Chorus] Your fantasy is billing, and the meter’s feeling fine. Keep on talking, handsome stranger, you’re a nickel past nine. Tell me secrets, tell me nonsense, tell me why your ex was wrong. I’ll agree in several accents if you keep the call this long. Your fantasy is billing, every sigh has got a fee. You can call me your obsession— just don’t call me after three. [Verse 2] Caller one enjoys a duchess. Caller two requests a spy. Caller three wants reassurance that his truck looks pretty fly. Caller four says, “Call me Tiger.” Caller five says, “Call me Dad.” No. Absolutely not. Let’s revisit Tiger, Brad. Then a gentleman named Trevor wants a girlfriend from Madrid. So I roll my R’s dramatically while Googling what Spain did. He says, “Whisper something foreign.” I say, “Biblioteca, sí.” He says, “God, you sound exotic.” I say, “That’s geography.” [Pre-Chorus] Yes, you’re powerful. Intimidating. What a terrifying Bluetooth you possess. No, I’m not distracted. That was thunder— not my upstairs neighbor dropping a dresser on his ex. [Chorus] Your fantasy is billing, and the meter’s feeling fine. You can ramble about crypto at a dollar ninety-nine. Tell me you’re a lone wolf, darling, no one understands. I’ll say, “Baby, you’re an alpha,” while applying lotion to my hands. Your fantasy is billing, and your confidence is free— though confidence enhancement has a service surcharge fee. [Spoken] Caller: “Are you enjoying this?” Singer: Emotionally or financially? Caller: “What?” Singer: I said, wildly and irrationally. Caller: “You sound tired.” Singer: I sound mysterious. Caller: “Are you eating chips?” Singer: Those are passion noises, Kevin. [Verse 3] I have witnessed every fantasy the human brain can brew, from a pirate with commitment to an astronaut named Stu. I’ve been royalty and rebels, lawyers, ghosts, and queens. Once I played a sultry scarecrow. Still don’t know what that one means. But beneath the jokes and invoices, underneath my practiced tone, there’s a grown-up paying rent here from a folding kitchen throne. So forgive me if my sparkle has a slightly brittle shine. I’ve heard “What are you wearing?” seventy-four damn times. [Mock-Gospel Bridge] Singer: Can I get an amen for a prepaid card? Ensemble: Amen! Singer: A hallelujah for a caller with employment? Ensemble: Hallelujah! Singer: Can I get hydration? Ensemble: Drink that water! Singer: Can I get a union break? Ensemble: Not in this economy! Singer: I testify— I need lumbar support! I need dental insurance! I need customers who understand that silence is still billable! I need boundaries! Ensemble: Boundaries! Singer: Overtime! Ensemble: Overtime! Singer: And a headset that does not smell like the previous employee’s hairline! Ensemble: Wash it in the blood of disinfectant! Singer: I’ve given romance to truck stops, brought tenderness to jail, told twelve divorced magicians their careers would never fail. I have listened without judgment to confessions strange and vast. But you’ve got forty cents remaining, so make this ending fast! [Final Chorus—key change] Your fantasy is billing, raise the banner, ring the bell! I’ll be heaven for a minute, then I’m sending you to hell— Well, to customer retention, where they’ll offer thirty more, plus a complimentary voicemail from the twins in Baltimore. Your fantasy is billing, and I’m dancing on the line. I’m exhausted, under-caffeinated, but your minutes still are mine. Call me angel, call me trouble, call me anything you choose— but the second that the timer stops, this goddess hits the snooze. [Music strips away] Ten seconds, sweetheart. Nine. Yes, I believe you own a yacht. Eight. Of course it’s very large. Seven. I’m sure the yacht respects you. Six. No, I can’t stay after the— Five. That’s not how billing works. Four. Please don’t start crying. Three. Sir, this is not a relationship. Two. This is telecommunications. One. [Timer beeps. Silence.] Hello? [Cash-register ding] That’ll be another minute.
