This is one of my favorite stories about my dad. He was a hell of a guy!

To paraphrase Sophia Petrillo... “Picture it: Cape Cod, the late 80s.”

When I was little, our home phone number was one digit off from the local marina. People - usually tourists/seasonal people - used to call our house incredibly early on Saturday and Sunday mornings during prime boating season, asking to get their boats ready/put in the water for them.

One day, my father had apparently had enough. It was like 5:15AM and the phone rang multiple times; whoever it was got our machine, and kept calling back (apparently they didn’t pay attention to our machine’s message!).

The next time the phone rang - like the fifth call in fifteen minutes - my dad picked up and said “Blah-blah-blah Marina - how can I help you?” The guy on the other end of the phone starts bitching about how he couldn’t get through, he is super important and needs his big boat all set for today, etc.

Dad interrupted him and said “Didn’t you hear about the fire?”

Irate caller: “What fire?”

Dad: “Big fire last night - everything’s torched. There’s hardly anything left.”

The guy apparently went ballistic... started yelling about how could we let this happen; he was going to sue my dad/the marina/the town... totally unhinged.

During his rant, Dad just put the receiver down and just left it off the hook for the rest of the morning.

TL;DR: My dad pranked an entitled asshole. He was the best.