Zeta Jones, Gaga, Rihanna and Margot Robbie Funnel Envy

 The living room of Catherine Zeta-Jones's Milsons Point apartment had been transformed into a telemarketing call centre. Four women sat in a semicircle on various pieces of expensive furniture, each holding a phone, each armed with a copy of the Yellow Pages open to "Plumbers—Emergency & General." A whiteboard had been wheeled in, covered in tally marks under headings like "HUNG UP," "THOUGHT IT WAS A PRANK," and "ACTUALLY LISTENED (1)."

Barry sat in the corner, in his too-loose suit, reading his own book with an expression of profound confusion. He had been told this was a "strategy meeting." He had not been told what the strategy was. He was beginning to suspect he didn't want to know.

Cath was already on her fourth call, her Welsh accent growing thicker with each rejection.  https://sites.google.com/view/italia-come-dimagrire/catherine-zeta-jones-un-ritratto-di-eleganza-bellezza-e-vitalità

"Hello? Yes, good morning. I'm calling on behalf of the Funnel Envy Association. We're a free service—" She pulled the phone away from her ear, stared at it with theatrical betrayal, and slammed it down. "They hung up. Idiot!"

"Who was it?" Rihanna asked, not looking up from her own phone, where she

was patiently waiting on hold with what sounded like a very confused receptionist.

"Doesn't matter. On to the next!" Cath dialled again, her manicured nails clicking against the screen. "Hello? May I speak to the plumber of the house?"

A pause. Cath's expression shifted from professional to indignant.

"Who is it? It's Catherine Zeta-Jones." Another pause. "No—it really is." Pause. "Yes. The actress." Pause. "I need to speak to the plumber. It's urgent." Pause. "Not for me—for HIM." She gestured wildly at Barry, who looked up from his book like a deer in headlights. "That funnel isn't going to envy itself!"  https://celebritafisico.com/catherine-zeta-jones-peso/

Barry slowly raised his hand. "I don't… I don't have funnel envy anymore. That's the whole point of the book. I'm healed."

"You're in recovery," Cath corrected, then returned to the phone. "Hello? Hello?" She sighed and hung up. "He said he was a doctor, not a plumber, and then he said something rude about my acting in Chicago." https://onlyrecipes.info/catherine-zeta-jones/

"Did you win an Oscar for that?" Rihanna asked.

"Yes."

"Then he's wrong."

"Thank you, Rihanna."

Gaga was next. She had somehow acquired a headset from somewhere—a proper call-centre headset, pink and glittery, with a small microphone that hovered near her mouth. Trevor II sat on her shoulder, still coughing, now wearing a tiny headset of his own that Rihanna had fashioned from a paperclip and a bead. Today Gaga was dressed in a gown constructed entirely from shredded Yellow Pages, giving her the appearance of a very glamorous phone book. https://generalwebdirectory.info/lane-cove-where-the-plumbing-broke-and-the-diets-got-weird/

"Hello!" she trilled into the microphone. "I'm calling on behalf of the Funnel Envy Association! We're a free service dedicated to the unblocking of masculine energy flows!"

A pause. Gaga's face fell.

"No, I'm not a robot. I'm Lady Gaga." Pause. "Yes, that Lady Gaga." Pause. "No, I'm not doing a bit. This is a real service." Pause. "Sir, I assure you, funnel envy is a very real condition that affects millions of—" She pulled the headset off and stared at it. "He said I was 'probably a scam.' Me! A scam! I have a Grammy!"

"Several," Rihanna confirmed.

"Several Grammys!"

Margot Robbie, who had been sitting quietly in an armchair, phone pressed to her ear, suddenly spoke up. "Hello? Yes, hi. I'm calling on behalf of the Funnel Envy Association." A pause. "No, it's not a sex thing." Another pause. "Well, I mean, it is, but not in the way you're—" Pause. "Sir, I'm trying to help you." Pause. "Yes, I was in Barbie." Pause. "No, I don't want to talk about Ken's funnel." She hung up, looking mildly traumatized. "That was the fifth one who asked about Ken."

Barry set his book down. "Can I… can I ask what we're doing? Exactly?"

"We're recruiting," Cath said, dialling another number. "Building a network. A brotherhood of plumbers. Men who understand funnels. Men who can help other men with their funnels."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Barry, please. You wrote the book."

"You wrote the book. I just sat there while you wrote it."

"Details." Cath held up a hand for silence. "Hello? Yes, good morning. I'm calling on behalf of the Funnel Envy Association—" Pause. "Yes, it's a real organisation." Pause. "No, I'm not Catherine Zeta-Jones." Pause. "Wait, yes I am." Pause. "No, I am." Pause. "Why would I lie about being Catherine Zeta-Jones?" She pulled the phone away. "He said I sounded 'too Welsh' to be Catherine Zeta-Jones."

"You are Welsh," Margot pointed out.

"I know! That's the point!"

Rihanna, still on hold, looked up. "I've been waiting for twelve minutes. The hold music is 'Wonderwall.' I've heard it four times. I'm starting to lose my mind."

"Hold on," Gaga said, adjusting her headset. "I've got another one. Hello! Funnel Envy Association, how may I unblock you?" Pause. "Yes, this is a real call." Pause. "No, I'm not recording a prank video." Pause. "Sir, I have a Grammy." Pause. "Several!" She hung up, fuming. "He said he'd rather have a prostate exam than talk to me."

"You don't have a prostate," Barry said.

"I know! That's what made it worse!"

Margot had dialled another number. "Hello? Yes, hi. I'm calling on behalf of—" She stopped. "Oh, you've heard of us? You read the book?" Her face lit up. "You did? You bought a trapeze?" She covered the receiver and hissed at the others. "We've got one! He's read the book! He's on board!"

Cath pumped her fist. "What's his name?"

"Barry."

"Another Barry?"

"Apparently."

The original Barry buried his face in his hands. "There's another Barry?"

"There can be many Barrys," Gaga said sagely. "The funnel is infinite."

Rihanna finally hung up, defeated. "They said they don't service 'that kind of blockage.' I told them it was metaphorical. They said they only do literal blockages. I said 'what about spiritual blockages?' and they hung up."

"Philistines," Cath muttered, dialling again. "Hello? Yes, good morning. I'm calling on behalf of the Funnel Envy Association—" Pause. "What do you mean, 'not again'?" Pause. "You've already been called by someone else from our organisation?" Pause. "Margot, did you call this number?"

"I called a lot of numbers," Margot admitted.

"You called the same number twice?"

"I got excited!"

Barry stood up. He walked to the whiteboard, picked up a marker, and wrote in the "ACTUALLY LISTENED" column: "2."

"Two," he said quietly. "We've called maybe fifty plumbers. Two listened. And one of them was also named Barry."

"Quality over quantity," Cath said.

"One of them asked about Ken's funnel," Margot added.

"And one of them thought I was a robot," Gaga said.

"And one of them said I sounded too Welsh to be Catherine Zeta-Jones," Cath said, still offended.

Barry looked at the four women—the movie star, the pop icon, the billionaire, and the other movie star—and then at the Yellow Pages, still open, still full of names. Hundreds of plumbers. Hundreds of potential funnels.

He picked up a phone.

"Hello?" he said. "Yes, hi. My name is Barry. I'm a plumber. And I'm calling because I have funnel envy." Pause. "Yes, really." Pause. "No, I'm not Catherine Zeta-Jones." Pause. "She's sitting right next to me." Pause. "Yes, the Catherine Zeta-Jones." He listened for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. I know. It's a long story. Do you have a minute?"

The four women stared at him in awe.

Barry covered the receiver. "He said he'll listen. But only if I bring muffins."

Rihanna was already on her feet. "What flavour?"

"He didn't specify."

"Then I'm bringing all of them."

And somewhere in the distance—beyond the apartment, beyond the phone lines, beyond the absurdity of it all—a kookaburra laughed.

Or maybe it was Trevor II.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the Yellow Pages itself, quietly accepting that it was no longer just a directory.

It was a recruitment tool.

For the Funnel Envy Association.

Which now had three members.

And counting.