Shiny, Black Walnut

Just another item from the "too crazy to be made up" department...

Went to a class last night and, afterward, called a good friend who has been ill. After the call, put the Little Phone back in it's secure little belt holster under my big leather jacket. Beautiful, clear night. Decided to walk through the tall buildings downtown. Long walk. Like 22 blocks long, long. Stopped at Wendy's for a late bite. Running behind. Caught a bus.

Hopped off the bus and walked 2 more blocks to my Humble Abode. Took secure little holster off of my belt and--what!--no Little Phone inside.
"Impossible," I fumed out loud to the window I was staring out. "Gee. It could be anywhere. I mean anywhere."
I borrowed a phone and called The Little Phone's number. Why? Was I going to offer a reward or something if someone answered? No answer anyway. After hours on the phone with the phone company, I went to bed exhausted and exasperated. Attention Cosmic Designers: Why does fixing phone problems require a phone?

Shortly after getting up this morning, I stepped outside to look at the day's face and one of my housemates--out of the blue--asked me if I lost my phone.
Oh, I get it. A practical joke. Ha, ha. Ok, I'll bite, "Yeah. Why?"
"Cause I found one back there last night," pointing, "on the ground, in the walnuts."
"Yeah, man," a second housemate chimed in. "It was ringing. That's how we found it in the dark."
"So, what does it look like," asked the first housemate.
"Small. Black. Simple," I replied. "I call it my Little Phone."
"Like this?" He took something out of his right pants pocket. It was the Little Phone.
"Yep, that's it," I said. My voice was quivering a bit.
Housemate number one handed me the Little Phone. "I didn't want to get involved last night. I was afraid it might have been part of some sort of fight. Maybe a lovers' quarrel. Or worse. You never know."
I glanced at housemate two. He nodded in agreement. "Thanks so much," I said as I examined the Little Phone for damage. "This is great. You wouldn't believe the route I took back last night. I was sure it was gone forever."
"You know, somebody could've run over it with their car back there, mixed in with all those walnuts," housemate one speculated. "Would've never even seen it."
"People drive back there?" I questioned.
"I guess they could," he said.
"Uh-huh," I mumbled while imagining a car driving into our back yard. "I guess so."
I couldn't find anything obviously wrong with the Little Phone. Turning to head back into the house, I said, "Well, thanks again. And, I think those are actually oak balls, not walnuts." But I really wasn't sure.