This is the conclusion to the “Phoning PETA,” series.
I wrote you a poem. It’s called, Ten Things I Hate About Telephones.
I hate telephones because they are ugly.
I hate telephones because they go in the Daikini child’s mouth.
I hate them because all they do is sit there and stare at people and cats. (Honestly! They need a more respectable role!)
I hate the sound they make when you push their buttons.
I hate them when they ring! I hate that sound! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!
After I called 9-1-1 and dealt with a stupid dispatcher, I walked into the bathroom and witnessed Momma trying to give the Little Thing and his Minion a bath. It wasn’t going over well. And then it happened. I heard that horrible, awful, no good, rotten, very bad sound! That high-pitched ringing sound that emanates from all of the phones when some jerk is trying to call Momma or Boy Dadda. I hate that sound! I hate it! I ran into Momma’s room, right up to the phone. “Be quiet! Prevert! I don’t like you!”
The phone continued to ring. I slapped it! “I said be quiet! Nobody wants to talk to you! Jerk!” I slapped the phone again. It stopped ringing. “About damn time,” I muttered as I walked down the stairs.
The Daikini child was sitting on the floor of the living room crying. She was as loud and as obnoxious as the phone I just silenced. I really wanted to smack her again, but seeing as how that made Momma and Boy Dadda cranky, I decided against it. So I sat on the floor of the living room and did what I do best. I ignored the world.
Boy Dadda decided to join the party, bringing a sippy cup with him. “Baby,” he said to the Daikini child. “It’s all right.” He scooped her up and sat her down on the sofa. Her little lips rooted for the sippy cup. The whole thing made me nauseated. I almost vomited right there. Alas, with the sippy cup in her mouth, all was finally quiet. And then some prevert decided to knock on the damn door. All I wanted, Diary, was a few minutes of quiet. Normally I only get that when Momma goes to the bathroom and I bang on the door until she opens it and lets me in. Sometimes it would be nice to have peace and quiet in the living room as well.
Boy Dadda got up, carrying the Daikini child. I followed. After all, I am the supervisory-cat in charge of all household operations. Therefore it is my job to find out who’s at the door and then run like hell away from them, seeking refuge under Momma’s bed.
Boy Dadda opened the door. And on the other side was the calvary!
“Good evening, Sir.” Officer #1 said.
“Hi there,” Boy Dadda said.
I ran up to the door, pushing my way past Boy Dadda. “Get ’em. Lock ’em up! Every last one of them!” I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t help myself.
“Dispatch notified us of a 9-1-1 hang-up call coming from this address. They said they tried calling the number back but no one answered.”
“A hang-up call? No one here called 9-1-1.”
“Don’t leave! Don’t leave me here with these humans. They’re horrible.”
Boy Dadda pushed me out of the door way with his foot.
“Do you see what I have to put up with?”
The police officers completely ignored me. It was like they didn’t even know I was there. And I was the victim! I was the reason they were at my house!
“Is everyone in the house okay?” Officer #2 asked.
(A high-pitched scream came from upstairs, courtesy of The Little Thing’s Minion.)
“We’re going to need to come inside and check things out.” Officer #1 said.
“Sure thing.” Boy Dadda stepped aside.
“Hiyee!” The Daikini child smiled and waved at them. It was nauseating.
I swallowed back a giant hairball filled with disgust and chased after the two police officers who were walking up the stairs. “Hey! Wait a second! I’m right here! I’m the one you need to talk to!”
Upstairs, they spoke with Momma and confirmed the screaming was the courtesy of the Minion. I pawed at their legs, desperately trying to get their attention. My efforts were pointless. Beyond smiling at me, neither of the two police officers acknowledged me. I was surrounded in a house filled with useless humans.
The police officers turned to walk away. At that point, I realized I was alone in this battle. “You’re both a bunch of A-holes!” I hissed at them. “I hope you fall on your tasers!”
Boy Dadda showed them the way out. The door shut. Once again I was alone and completely defenseless against these useless humans.
That’s all for now, Diary.
This is Gwennie, signing off.