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Mr. Phone’s execution took place as scheduled on Friday, October 14 at 4:31pm EDT. Mr. Phone was convicted of many crimes—of which the most heinous offense was Aggravated Assault on Brain Cells. I’m at peace now that he’s gone.

Before his execution began, Mr. Phone slowly and deliberately ate his last supper. It consisted of three Slim Jims, a bag of Cheetos, and a bottle of Dr Pepper. He walked to our garage of his own accord with his hands tied behind his back. He stood silently in place awaiting his fate. As promised, he had no final words, only a calm look of resignation on his face.

Mr. Phone was put to death with a lethal dose of sledgehammer. I, Mrs. Groovy, carried out the execution with Mr. Groovy as my witness. As vowed, Mr. Phone began singing “Amazing Grace” as I swung the sledgehammer back behind my shoulder to take my first whack at him.

Whack 1.  🎶Amazing grace🎶how sweet the sound

Whack 2.  🎶That saved a wretch🎶like—SILENCE.

He was done.

That didn’t stop me from getting in whacks 3 through 10.

I didn’t realize the symbolism at the time, but I do now. Ten whacks for ten wretched years of Mr. Phone’s criminal behavior. Ten years of his torment. Ten years of his omnipresence in my bedroom. I suppose I got a little carried away with myself, but his existence was enough to drive a girl mad. And afterwards, I pondered—

Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him.

I felt executioner’s remorse for one brief second when I wondered if Mr. Phone still might have been useful to someone else. I mean, I write about frugality—shouldn’t I lead by example? After all, Mr. Phone had some life left in him no matter how wretched he was. But then I had second thoughts. What if we found Mr. Phone a new home and he tainted it with his baggage and with the ghosts of his past crimes? No, I couldn’t take that chance.

But out of respect for the entire personal finance community I removed the four generic batteries I placed in Mr. Phone’s gullet as a backup. And I tucked them away neatly in a drawer.

Some of you clamored for video of the execution, but I didn’t have the heart to subject Mr. Groovy to the job of documenting the grisly details. So I took this one photo of Mr. Phone’s brutal death. It’s horrible, I know—but force yourself to look at it. It’s a symbol of my freedom. Mr. Phone was a thoroughly repugnant creature without one redeeming quality. May the bast@@d rot in hell!

execution

34 thoughts on “Epilogue: Mr. Phone’s Execution Went Smashingly Well!

    1. Mr. Phone was such a devil I would have thought he’d bleed black blood. Well it was red, but some of it dried brown. I’d like to think that was a sign he was on his way to hell.

    1. I figured I’d spare people the goriness of a video. Thanks for the good wishes. Yes, it does feel pretty amazing.

  1. Haha, that phone got what was coming. I don’t think there was must use left in that sucker anyway. But all that tasty ketchup on the other hand! Could have been used on some tasty fries at least 🙂

    1. Yeah, he deserved it! I didn’t mind using all that ketchup. Mr. G cut potatoes out of his diet. A bottle of ketchup lasts a long time in this house.

    1. I was thinking the same thing when describing the death of Mr. Phone. I did some of the same when I left my corporate job, except with a bonfire of all the old important files I would no longer need!

      Congrats on the retirement, it’s motivation for us to know that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel

      1. I love the bonfire idea. Thanks for the good wishes. You’ll be reaching that light at the end of the tunnel in 2025?

  2. I can’t believe you did that! That phone is way outdated….LOL. I don’t really keep stuff from old jobs either, it’s like why?!!!

    1. I’m so quick with tossing stuff out that it’s a good thing I didn’t permanently delete my Recycle Bin on my laptop. I had so many work files to remove I inadvertently got rid of a few personal ones. Thanks for commenting, Lila.

  3. What a hoot! Good thing you didn’t do the video, the Feds would have banned your site for containing “kill video’s”. The picture of the dead victim was, somehow, mesmerizing. Oh, the dreams that all of us working stiffs have of being able to do that ourselves. One day we’ll all be as lucky as The Groovy’s, and our phones will follow yours to the grave…..

    1. Thanks, Fritz! Have you ever been to the Ben and Jerry’s in Vermont for the tour? They have a graveyard for old ice cream flavors. We should start a PF/FIRE graveyard for any remnants of the J-O-B people want to bury – but first they must perform a symbolic murder.

        1. Bring it on! We’ll have a murder station beside the graveyard. It will include a fire pit for those nasty pieces of paper. I’ll bring the sledgehammer. Maybe Fritz can bring some rope and a knife and Mr. G will bring a shotgun (when we get one).

  4. Wow, you are vicious! But Mr. Phone certainly deserved his fate after all those years of torturing you.

    Hmmm, what will I want to destroy when my day comes? The emails are horrible, but come through to my personal phone, so I don’t want to destroy that. Maybe my parking pass – representing my long commute on weekday mornings and evenings?

    1. I really have a dark side, Harmony. You know what you need to do with your parking pass? A plasectomy. Dave Ramsey used to do those on his TV shows. He cut up credit cards with a pair of giant scissors. Maybe he still does it on his YouTube channel. Thanks for empathizing.

  5. Congrats, Mrs. G! I totally agree with not burdening friends and family with our castoffs unless we know they are specifically looking for a special item.
    I donate most of our unneeded stuff to thrift stores in the hopes that people come there with a shopping list rather than just to browse.
    May you now enjoy a peaceful home without Mr. Phones haunting presence. Happy retirement!!!

    1. Thanks for the kind wishes, Julie. Castoffs are definitely a burden. You’re getting rid of things you don’t want and there’s a good chance no one else will want them either.

    1. To tell you the truth, Green Swan, I didn’t have even one second of remorse. Relief is precisely the right word. Yesterday after shipping back Mr. G’s laptop and running a few errands we returned home and it felt like late afternoon. But it was only 12:30! And we didn’t have any conference calls to join or any email to answer. Thanks for the good wishes!

  6. Ha! Well done, well done. I dream of being disconnected from the world. It’s part of the reason why I haven’t gotten a mobile hotspot for weekends. I know I’d be less stressed if I worked on my blog and on my lesson plans throughout the whole weekend in small bits, but I really like being forced to spend time with my family, care for the cottage, and kayak.

    1. Thanks, Penny. I don’t blame you one bit for not wanting to be connected. It’s too easy to get distracted. For me, at first, I really grappled with having my office space set up in my bedroom. But when I “shut down” I really shut down. No nights, no weekends, no holidays – I didn’t even connect on sick days and I worked from home!

  7. Wahoo! Love the symbolism. Love that you got in TEN swings! I hope any and all frustration and resentment and animosity or whatever you may have felt for your job and working career was released and that you can now enjoy the hell out of your retirement!

    How was your first Monday morning of NOT having to get up for work?

    1. Monday (yesterday) was great. No thinking about work at all. We went to a UPS store to return Mr. G’s laptop to his employer. That was symbolic too! Thanks for your comments and your support, Ty.

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