Spinning Compass Comunications

[muffled, under his breath]
Shit. Fuck. Fuck. God-damned shit.

[yelling in to the open, away from the phone]
JOYCE! JOYCE! MURRAY? Fuck!

[shuffling, things moving around, to himself again]
...the hell is this

[finally, in to the phone]
Is anyone there? Fat Rambo looking for...Griswold Family, Scoops Troop, damn anyone?