Fic: Call Me Some Time
Title: Call Me Some Time
Characters: Roger Federer & Andy Roddick.
Rated: R for harsh language
Notes: This takes place about a week after Wimbledon. A phone conversation between Roger and Andy. Andy has issues. Andy's parts are big because I imagine him pretty much shouting through his part of the conversation.
Andy flips through his phone address book, selects 'Douchebag', and waits for Roger to pick up. Across the ocean, Roger's phone rings. The ringtone plays "It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To".
Roger: Hello Andy.
Andy: Fucking asshole. Listen you pussy, don't you ever ever try to tell me you know how I feel, you fucktard, 'cause you don't. I hope you're enjoying that fucking trophy. Put it right there next to your other motherfucking trophies. You're a real asshole, Federer. I wouldn't put it past you to plaster your face and that trophy on the Christmas cards you send out this year. Send one to me, you bastard, and I'll beat the crap out of you. You and your fifteen fucking slams. Probably keep that trophy in bed with you, don't you, you Swiss bastard. Rub all over it and cum like a fucking school boy having a wet dream. Hey why don't you stick it up your ass, mother fucker? You just wait until the US Open. I'm going to rip you a new one. Hey and speaking of taking it up the ass, you can tell your boyfriend Nadal that I'm not taking any shit from him in New York either and...
Roger: Hey Andy?
Andy: What?
Roger: Hold on a bit. Let me take you off speaker phone. (Roger muffles the phone in his hand.) Yes, I'll take a Venti Caramel Machiato, extra whip and a Strawberry Banana Smoothie.
Roger: Ok, Andy, I'm back. Mirka says Hi. Now, what was that message you want me to give to Rafa?
Andy: Motherfucker. You're such a loser, Federer, you and your gold man purse. What the fuck is that all about anyway? And don't you ever put me on speaker again. And another thing...
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Characters: Roger Federer & Andy Roddick.
Rated: R for harsh language
Notes: This takes place about a week after Wimbledon. A phone conversation between Roger and Andy. Andy has issues. Andy's parts are big because I imagine him pretty much shouting through his part of the conversation.
Andy flips through his phone address book, selects 'Douchebag', and waits for Roger to pick up. Across the ocean, Roger's phone rings. The ringtone plays "It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To".
Roger: Hello Andy.
Andy: Fucking asshole. Listen you pussy, don't you ever ever try to tell me you know how I feel, you fucktard, 'cause you don't. I hope you're enjoying that fucking trophy. Put it right there next to your other motherfucking trophies. You're a real asshole, Federer. I wouldn't put it past you to plaster your face and that trophy on the Christmas cards you send out this year. Send one to me, you bastard, and I'll beat the crap out of you. You and your fifteen fucking slams. Probably keep that trophy in bed with you, don't you, you Swiss bastard. Rub all over it and cum like a fucking school boy having a wet dream. Hey why don't you stick it up your ass, mother fucker? You just wait until the US Open. I'm going to rip you a new one. Hey and speaking of taking it up the ass, you can tell your boyfriend Nadal that I'm not taking any shit from him in New York either and...
Roger: Hey Andy?
Andy: What?
Roger: Hold on a bit. Let me take you off speaker phone. (Roger muffles the phone in his hand.) Yes, I'll take a Venti Caramel Machiato, extra whip and a Strawberry Banana Smoothie.
Roger: Ok, Andy, I'm back. Mirka says Hi. Now, what was that message you want me to give to Rafa?
Andy: Motherfucker. You're such a loser, Federer, you and your gold man purse. What the fuck is that all about anyway? And don't you ever put me on speaker again. And another thing...
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