Day 19: Signs of the End Times

by pjmcbride

The May schedule is out, answering several end-times questions:

–How many more times must I be phones? 6.

–What will I be on my last day? Fire.

–When is my last day as city police dispatch? Apr. 25. What?! I’M NOT READY FOR IT TO END SO SOON!!

IRONY ALERT

I am in imminent danger of choking on a Jolly Rancher while answering this phone. Speaking of Jolly Rancher injuries (bet you didn’t think I could pull off that segue), I remember one Christmas, German Township brought us a giant bag of Jolly Ranchers, and I spent so much time with one tucked between my gum and cheek while I was on the air or phone that I developed a sore spot on my gum. This is a sign that one has eaten too much candy.

Currently, I have yogurt in my hair, don’t ask. But it is troubling me, and will continue to do so until I shower tonight.

THE DAILY CRISIS

“911–”

“You’re messed up! You don’t deserve to have a baby!” Um, OK.  Which brings us to…

911 ETIQUETTE

When you call us, talk to us. Don’t continue your argument with the other person for dramatic effect. Especially if you haven’t given your location yet.

–“Your phone called 911, do you have an emergency?”

“No, my phone went crazy because I dropped it in water.” I would do the same if someone dropped me in water. Speaking of which, I took a call the other night in which the phone sounded like it was in the washing machine. It was probably saying, “Help meee….”

I am now on hold with an alarm company, listening to Beethoven’s 5th Symphony. Ha ha ha ha!

–“Someone just banged on my door to tell me about a fire behind my house, and she looks pretty shady, if you know what I mean.” Yeah, those shady characters are always trying to save you from fires.

Speaking of extremes of temperature (it’s Segue City in here!), I was just overcome by the cold–Security Blanket deployed @ 2152.

A woman is going to write a “very bad report” about me because I told her that having more than one person call in about the same incident would not make the police get there any faster. She’ll be glad to know they’re getting rid of me in June.

I just discovered–the hard way–that the M&M dispenser we were gifted with last week is actually a prank machine that shoots them out like projectiles. And when I tried to gather them up, it shot even more at me. I had to reach behind the motion sensor to prevent some kind of perpetual-motion machine situation. Anyway, I currently have no shortage of M&Ms.

 

 

 

 

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