Monday, March 05, 2007

My Wombat Adventure, Part 2

Missed Part 1?

Late that night, after I had tucked the baby wombat into its makeshift bed, I was awakened from my slumber by the insistent ringing of the telephone. Still groggy, I grabbed the bedside reading lamp and held it to my ear for several moments, before realizing my mistake.

“Hello?” I rasped, once I had replaced the lamp and snatched the phone from its cradle. My query was met by heavy breathing and then a scary voice whispered,

“Ya wanna buy a duck?”

I paused and thought a moment. Had he said duck? “Listen,” I said. “I realize you telemarketers have to make a living, but this is ridiculous. It’s three o’clock in the morning!”

The caller giggled and sang, “I knoooooooow! So how ‘bout it?”
“No, thank you,” I said. “I have all the ducks I need.”
“How ‘bout wombats?”

In the background, a scary piece of orchestral music began playing. And I shuddered. How had the caller known I had a wombat? Was it just a coincidence? No, that couldn’t be! Why would a telemarketer call me at three in the morning to ask if I owned a wombat? Ducks, yes. Wombats…no. It was too far-fetched.

“I have no need for another wombat,” I said. Immediately after the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake.

“Another?” the caller asked slyly. “Meaning you already own a wombat?”

“I…” Before I could respond, a dial tone sounded. The caller had hung up on me.

The scary music intensified and the shadows in my room seemed to deepen. My bedroom window was open just a bit and I heard the crunch of gravel from the driveway below. I crept from my bed and stealthed my way to the window, but by the time I got there, the driveway and yard were empty. As quickly as I could, I walked to my bedroom door and opened it.

The hallway was darker still, the blackness causing the normally innocent items of grandfather clock and wall mirror to take on ominous personas. I tried to remain calm, but just then I heard someone rattling the knob to the side door. Although thinking quickly, I couldn’t recall if I had locked that door before going to bed.

The squeaking of hinges answered my question. Chills ran up my spine, over the shoulders, and began strumming my clavicles. They were nervous, too. I didn’t blame them.

Remembering the gun in my dresser, I ran back into the bedroom and withdrew the weapon from its hiding place. I checked the load…empty! Hearing the sound of feet on the stairs, I knew I had but a few minutes. Running into the bathroom, I loaded the pistol and took up a defensive position behind the shower curtain.

To Be Continued...


Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

Ooh! Wombat noir! Can't wait to see what the Duck Merchant has in store for our intrepid hero.

Anonymous said...

Creepy! I am too scared to go to bed now. Can we sleep with the light on?

Angry Ballerina said...

1. aim dont point the gun
2. squeeze dont pull the trigger
3. dont shut one eye when aiming said gun
4. take no prisoners
5. find your bullets

Raymond Betancourt said...

And when the wombat comes
He will find me gone
He'll look for a place to sit

The Police, Reggatta De Blanc (1979)

I have no idea what that means, but then again, how often does the subject of wombats come up?

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

Where'd you find that wombat sign? We ought to put a couple of 'em up in places where people speed a lot. Nothing slows folks down like five kilometers of wombats.

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

Oh. I have Vista. I'm minimizing and maximizing stuff. Makes me happy. I'm tellin' the world.

Anonymous said...

Comedy History 101: the man who made the phrase "Wanna buy a duck" (not, as the Marx Brothers had it, "viaduct?") was a vaudevillian made good, Joe Penner. Read about his short life spreading catchphrases here:

Jack W. Regan said...

Wow! I'm impressed! I didn't think anybody would catch that. Or even know who Joe Penner was. Yep, you're right. That's where that line came from. I believe another of his catch phrases was, "Ooooh, you naaaaaasty man!" His effeminate delivery of this line titillated an age when homosexuality was known, but not openly discussed. At least, not in polite company.

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

So! When we get to find out what the mystery midnight marauding duck merchant wants with the wombats? Is he going to build some sort of reactor fueled by wombat fur?

Oh, crap. I just scared myself. What kind of monster...inhuman, unfeeling!...would shave a wombat?