A Diabolically Comical Phone Call

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 As Logged By:


 Agent West

 

  A phone call's all Mommy needs

For advice on dealing with some weeds.

But, talking to Fanny is not easy

When she has a dude as diabolical as me.

 

What results is a call so funny

It has me laughing like a loony bunny.

Will Mommy hear what Fanny says

About fixing her flower beds. 

 
 Mommy's pacing back and forth.
 
All as I watch with diabolical anticipation.  Any minute now Mommy will slip on a little spilled pudding that may look like a runny poopy.
 
Back and forth she huffs and taps her arm...
 
OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
 
Just trip already!
 
"I don't want to call her," Mommy calls out.
 
"Then text her," Daddy responds from the other side of the house.
 
Mommy paces and paces some more...  Never once finding that slick spot on the floor.  She huffs and grumbles to herself, then mumbles and meek, "I can't text her."
 
"Why not?"
 
Mommy throws her head back in a dramatic groan.  "Because, she never checks her texts.  It'll be a week before I hear from her and I need that stuff gone now."
 
"Okay, well...  Have fun."
 
Mommy's eye begins to twitch as she glares in Daddy's direction.  She picks up her phone and dials a number.
 
AGAIN!  All while avoiding that slippery spot.  
 
What's a diabolical dude got to do?  Slather pudding all over the whole diabolical floor?
 
"Fanny, hi!."  Mommy greets once the phone stops ringing.  She presses a button and puts her conversation on speaker.  "I could use your advice on getting rid of..."
 
"Stop hitting yourself in the head!"
 
Huh?  
 
Who's hitting themself in the head?  I look to the left, I look to the right.  No one is in sight.  No one, other than Mommy and she is clearly not hitting herself in the head, though that would be funny.
 
"Stop hitting yourself in the head with the hanger!  Sorry, Jeffrey's being a little crazy.  What were you saying?" 
 
 "Oh, I just needed some advice on..."
 
Mommy's attempt is cut short when Fanny barks, "PUT IT DOWN!"  However, not one second later, she's yelling, "Pick it up!  No, I said, 'pick it up.'"
 
Put it down, pick it up.  Does this woman know what she wants?
 
"Pick up the hanger right now and put it on the table.  You know not to drop things onto the floor."
 
"Is everything okay?"  Mommy timidly asks, pausing for a bit in her frantic pacing.  
 
I gnaw on my fist.  She's right in front of it!  One simple step is all I need for her to take then WHOOSH!  She'll go slipping and flying by.
 
"Everything is fi... NO!  Don't you dare touch that hanger.  DON'T!  Okay, what advice do you need again?"
 
"Ummm...."  Mommy holds her breath and for good reason.  
 
Before another syllable can be uttered, Fanny's at it again.  Okay, even I'm starting to forget my diabolical trick.  This dude on the other end is a genius.
 
"You picked it up!  I can't believe you picked it up!  NO!  You can't hit yourself in the head.  STOP IT!"  Fanny takes a few, really loud breaths.  "Okay, sorry about that.  What is... FINE!  If you're going to hit yourself in the head, at least do it softly.  Alright, I'm here.  You were saying?"
 
"Me?"  Mommy asks when caught off guard.
 
"Yes, go ahead."
 
"Oh," Mommy takes a breath of relief.  "I was just nee..."
 
"If I can hear it when the hanger hits your head, that means you're not hitting yourself softly!  I CAN STILL HEAR IT!"  
 
 Hehehe, Hahaha!  This guy is hitting himself.
 
"UGH!  You know what, I'm walking away.  THERE!  I don't care if you knock your brains loose!"  
 
STOMP, STOMP, STOMP!  Fanny's stomping echoes over the phone.
 
"Okay, sorry about that.  I'm in a quiet place now, so we can talk without interruption.  What was it again?"
 
"OH!"  Mommy sighs and beams.  "I'm just needed some advice on a weed."
 
"Sure, which one."
 
"It's the... AAAHHHHHHHH!"
 
WHOOSH!  Mommy goes flying, that slippery pudding finally achieving it's destiny!
 
 
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