A Frantic Voicemail

I couldn’t believe it. Tossed from another restaurant. No one believed my warnings. No one ever believed my warnings.

That’s why I need your help. Listen, I’m sorry for leaving a voicemail. I know it is super obnoxious to have to get in there and click play and whatnot, I get it. Maybe you’re just reading this from one of those transcription things phones are doing these days.

Cousin, warn the people. Warn them that peacocks are coming! Tell the people!

Tell them packs of peacocks plod pastures, pecking and poking while parading toward pancakes, pleading for potatoes, and pressuring pedestrian passersby for pizza and Pop-tarts! Please, Paul, provide proper premonitions of peril! People must prepare promptly!

Oh no. They’ve found me. No! No you pretty birds of nightmares! You can’t have pizza! That’s- ahhhhhhh!



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