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prank calls and cold-blooded phone revenge 
by Horton Lazario

It was time for another series of prank calls to my good friends over at the United Talent Agency, otherwise known as UTA. Gavin Polone, an agent and partner, had not returned my calls so naturally I figured a manners teaching lesson was due.  My buddy Aaron and I talked over the game plan; then I called the main switchboard and asked for Poloneís office.

"Gavin Poloneís office," his assistant said.

"Yeah, Michael Eisnerís office calling for Gavin, is he in?" I said in just the right bored, nonchalant tone to authenticate the call.

"Uh, hold on, Iíll get him -- heís in a meeting Ė let me interrupt him."

It took only a couple of seconds before Polone came on the line, "Michael, hi, whatís up?"

"Like you donít know you scumbag, you," I snarled.

There was a long pause, then, "Excuse me?"

"Or should I sayÖ soon to be Mr. ex-fucking scumbag agent," I hissed.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute..." he said.

"Donít you ever interrupt me again you pathetic little piss ant, do you know who youíre talking to here? Well do you?" I was beginning to shout.

"Yes, Michael Eisner."

"Fucking-A right -- Now, knock it off all your bullshit!" I yelled into the receiver.

"Knock what --" CLICK. I hung up on him.  That's the secret of good prank calls, you hang up on them and act like they are intruding on you.

Now before he could regroup I beat him to the punch and called Michael Eisnerís office.

"Michael in? Itís Gavin Polone."

"Heís in a meeting.  May I have him get back to you?" Eisnerís very nice assistant said.

"Perhaps you can help me... some son of a bitch is impersonating me and I have reason to believe heíll be calling in a few minutes -- best thing to do is just hang up on him. I think he might be dangerous," I added.

"Jesus... just what we need after this Katzenberg crap"

"Well, I just wanted to let you know. Michael doesnít have to call me back."

"Thanks, Gavin." Eisnerís assistant was nice.

We waited about five minutes then called Gavin Poloneís office again.

"Michael Eisner for Gavin," I said.

"Whyíd you hang up on us? Whyíd you say those things?" Poloneís assistant was confused.

"It must have been some screw-up with the phones," I reassured him.

"Jesus, whatís going on over there? Gavinís rip-shit, heís ready to tear me a new asshole." I felt sorry for him, but it couldnít be helped.

"Well, Michael will take his call now."

As soon as he put us on hold we conference called Steven Spielbergís office.

"Steven Spielbergís office..." his assistant, Robert, answered.

"Please hold for Michael Eisner and Gavin Polone." I said.

"Youíve got to be kidding, what is this, a prank call?" he asked. Then he put us on hold.

Just then Gavin Polone picked up.

"Michael, whatís going on?" Polone said.

"Iím so sorry Gavin, that bastard Katzenberg has me crazy these days. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH MONEY $250,000,000 IS?"  I yelled.

"Itís okay, I understand," Polone said, accepting my apology.

"You? You understand? You?" I questioned.

"Well yes, I think I do, sure." he was backpedaling.

"Well FUCK YOU! I donít need youíre self righteous crummy cocksucking pity -- Iíll run this studio myself if I have to!" I screamed.

"Guys, guys, slow down, whatís going on?" It was Steven Spielberg.

"Whoís that?" Polone questioned in a riled up, snotty tone.

"Well whoís this?" Spielberg shot back.

"Itís Gavin Polone, whoís this?" Polone quipped.

"Itís Steven..."

"Steven who?" Polone snapped.


"Yeah right, and Iím Babe fuckiní Ruth. Okay, I get it, Michael Eisner, Steven Spielberg, this is a practical joke... very funny whoever you are." Polone said.

"Hey, you called me," Spielberg reminded him.

"Oh, I did, did I?" Polone was getting pissed off now. "Okay, well then... Steven, on behalf of the partners here at United Talent Agency Iíd like to take this opportunity to tell you to go fuck yourself."  I could hear Poloneís spit hitting the receiver he was so pissed off.

There was a long awkward silence.

"Excuse me?" Spielberg finally said.

"You heard me, dip-shit, go fuck yourself," Polone repeated in agent-like clarity.

"Thatís what I thought you said... okay, have a nice day." Spielberg hung up and we followed suit.

I instantly called Eisnerís office again. "Hi, itís Robert over at Dreamworks. Did a guy claiming to be Gavin Polone call you guys?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. He called impersonating Gavin Polone, but I just told him to fuck off and hung up on him." he said.

"Well somethingís going on, because the REAL Gavin Polone just called here and cussed out Steven and he was screaming Michaelís name too."

"How do you know it was the real Gavin Polone?" he asked. This was a fair question I thought.

"We track all of our incoming calls by satellite and loop it through a voice spectrometer. Then we run the voice signature through our in-house GPS database.  It was definitely Gavin Polone and he was calling from the 3rd floor of the North East corner of UTA," I explained.

"Jesus," he said.

"ILM set it up for us," I explained further.


"Anyway, he was screaming something about Ďdriving over to Burbank and doing a flying death kickí at Michael. I just thought youíd like to know."

"Thanks," he said in a worried tone.

"Steven wants to be updated on this situation, can you call me back if he calls you guys?" I was asking strictly out of professional courtesy.

"Sure, notta problem."

We hung up and I speed-dialed UTA.

"Gavin Poloneís office."

"Steven Spielbergís office calling for Gavin," I said.

"Look, weíre not buying it, okay? Nice try," Gavinís assistant sang in a smug, fuck you tone.

"Fine. If you donít believe me, call us back," I rattled off Dreamworks number and hung up.

We took a coffee break and played back the tapes we had recorded of our earlier conversations. Now it was Aaronís turn. We called Spielbergís office first.

"Hi, itís Jeremy Zimmer, whoís this please?" Aaron asked.

"Robert." Spielbergís assistant said.

"Robert, Gavin Polone told me you guys wonít take his calls."

"Thatís correct."

"Robert, weíve got a big problem here and Iím trying to do a little damage control."

"Okay," he said only half listening. We could hear him typing in the background.

"Did Gavin contact you today?" Aaron asked.

"Oh, you bet."

"And Iím guessing.... what... there was a little problem?"

The typing stopped. "No, there was a really big problem."

"I see..." Aaron said.

"It just caught Steven off guard, heís more amazed than anything else," Robert reassured Aaron.

"Look, Robert, there was a grave misunderstanding. Gavin is mortified. You see, he thought it was a prank phone call and well, thatís why he said the things he did -- Heís afraid you guys are going to try to screw up his career."

"We donít do that here, we make movies," Robert said.

"Well, thatís good to know. But the point is... heís really really sorry."

"Okay, Iíll pass it on."

"Well, I was kinda wondering if we could just get Steven back on the phone -- for just a second. Gavin would do anything to apologize. Heís sitting right here in my office. Itís very embarrassing for him." Aaron sounded just like a lawyer pleading a case.

"I donít think thatíd be --."

"Címon, itíll just take a few seconds then we can put this all behind us."

"Well..." Robert was starting to buckle.

"Címon -- two seconds," Aaron whined.

"Hold on, Iíll see if I can get his attention."

We held on for a good two or three minutes... finally.


"Seven?" I asked.

"Yes," Spielberg said.

"Itís Gavin."


"About all that stuff I said before...?"

Yes?" Spielberg waited.

"Well I just wanted you to knowÖ I meant every FUCKING WORD OF IT! Oh yeah, and I never thought for a minute E.T. could make a bicycle fly, you sick little monkey!"

There was another long pause. I guess he wanted to make sure I was finished. ThenÖ

"Get some therapy --" CLICK, Steven hung up.

We immediately called Eisnerís office.

"Hello, itís Gavin Polone, Steven Spielberg is a cruel unforgiving bastard! Heís also a Fuck-Head"

"Look, whoever this is --"

"Oh, you donít believe me? Call me back at UTA. Spielbergís a fuck-head Ė fuck -- head."

We hung-up. Then we called Poloneís office to get things going.

"Gavin Poloneís --"

"Shut your cakehole -- Listen, this is Michael Eisnerís office calling and if your boss ever calls here again weíre gonna have a restraining order put on his ass," I screamed into the receiver.

"Who the hell is this?"

"You know damn good and well who this is, bun boy."

"Fuck you -- donít call here again!" Poloneís assistant screamed a few more incoherent obscenities and then hung up

We waited a few minutes and called Eisnerís office again.

"Gavin Polone calling--"

"I said donít call us again!" Eisnerís assistant screamed.

"Oh donít worry - and while weíre on the subject, why donít you take those stupid fucking ears off your pinhead and shove them straight up your mousy little poop-shoot!"

Then Aaron called Dreamworks. "Hi, itís Jason over in Legal affairs here at Paramount -- Uh, I just got this weird phone call."

"Let me guess, Gavin Polone, right?" Robert asked.

"Oh you know about this?"

"Uh - yeah, he called us earlier," Robert said.

"Well he just called here saying that he was now representing Steven Spielberg, and in the future heíd be making all career decisions for him, because, and Iím only quoting him here okay?  Remember, I'm quoting... he saidÖ because Steven Spielberg is a fuck-head."

"Yeah, heís flipped out or else heís on drugs or something -- I only hope he jumps out his window and does us all a favor," Robert said.

We called Poloneís office again.

"Hi, itís Army Archard calling Gavin," Aaron said.

"Hold please."

"Army?" Polone said, coming on the phone immediately.

"Hi Gavin, any truth to the rumor youíre calling everyone up and telling them Steven Spielberg is a fuck-head?"

"What? What the? Who the hell is this?" he screamed.

"Army Archard," Aaron said.

"Sure." CLICK -- Polone was gone.

Then of course we called Army Archard at Variety. Archard always answers his own phone.

"Hi, itís Gavin Polone, Iíve got a hot scoop for you."

"Whatís that Gavin?"

"Seven Spielbergís a fuck-head!" I said.

"Whatíd you say?" Army asked, not really believing what he just heard with his own ears.

"I said, Steven Spielberg is a FUCK-HEAD. I outta know, Iím representing him now."

"Okay, fine." Army said, not believing a word of this.

"Army, I know what youíre thinking, but I have a very good reason for doing this. Call me back at UTA to confirm this if you think this is a prank call. " I hung up.

* * * * * * * 

About an hour later we called Polone again but his assistant said he had gone into personal management and was no longer with UTA.


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