I blame the cylons

Last night, while watching BSG in my room with Carrie, I heard Dad's cell phone ring. For whatever reason, Carrie did not (I don't know how she couldn't; it's the most annoying ring ever). I tell Carrie I can hear it and Carrie looks out the door at Dad, who's sleeping, propped up on one hand and mouth hanging open, on the floor. Normally, the phone wakes him up. But he doesn't move.

"I think your dad's dead," Carrie said. "I think he snapped his own neck."

Seconds later, the page function on his phone beeps. Carrie informs me that Dad doesn't move.

The phone rings again. Carrie still can't hear it and, apparently, neither can Dad. She frets that something might be wrong with my Papa. My phone remains silent. I tell her it's probably work calling.

A little while later, Carrie asks me if I heard something.

"What?"
"Someone's knocking on the door."
"I don't hear anything."
"I swear someone just knocked on the back door."

How she can hear that and not an ear gouging ringtone in the next room, I do not know.

This morning Dad comes in and tells me to call his cellphone. He often suspects his antique is not behaving the way it should.

"Is it showing two missed calls and you didn't hear it ring?" I ask.
"Yeah, how did-"
"It rang twice last night and you slept through it and I didn't answer it because I'm not your damn secretary."
"Oh, okay. Well, that was Barney, calling to see if I could work today. He said he called and came by the house, knocked on the door."

So, Carrie DID hear someone knocking last night.

My laws. Seperately, we're useless. Perhaps with our powers combined, we could form a fully functional human being. Judas.