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On-Call

A gorilla at work with the on-call phone.

By Chloe GilholyPublished about a year ago 4 min read
1
On-Call
Photo by Quino Al on Unsplash

Plum Tasmania worked in pride as a senior care officer for Africa’s animal kingdom. Her manager was visiting her cubs in Timbuctoo, her eldest marrying a white tiger. To have a gorilla hold a high position reserved for lions was a revolution for the care sector.

She couldn’t believe what she let herself in for when she went for the promotion. Overseeing several homes for all creatures great and small unable to look after themselves in the wild. Plum worked hard everyday to prove that gorillaz were neither lazy nor stupid.

The office was meant to be closed on Sundays, but she came in to finish the work she couldn’t finish on Friday. The on-call phone should be quiet, her boss had said. The on-call phone was for emergencies, sick-calls and incidents involving local authorities and humans.

At six in the morning, Plum was on her merry way, checking client files, finance sheets and medical files to ensure that everything was in order.

Plum jolted back at the roaring ringtone. She wondered why the phone was ringing as vibrated against her coffee mug. It was Lemon Treehouses, a sanctuary for retired circus animals.

“Hello!”

“Morning Plum!” She recognized the husky voice. “It’s Beef Jerky.”

“Hello Beef Jerky. What’s up?” She felt the hairs in her arms tingle, expecting the worse. Please don’t tell me that someone has died!

“I don’t know what to do!”

Plum felt the pit of her stomach churn, expecting the office to collapse on her. Despite her anxieties, she remained calm on the phone. “Okay, calm down. Just tell me what the issue is.”

“The milk’s out of date!”

She slammed her face against the desk. “You’re a cow aren’t you? Surely you can produce your own milk?”

“I can’t! I’m a bull.”

“Then why not buy some

at the shop?” Plum suggested.

“There’s a Tesco right outside Lemon Treehouses.”

“Well, I think it’s wrong that the milk has been left like this to rot!”

“I understand,” Plum said.

“Now I think about it, I guess I could ask the missus if she could make some. We need it for Mr Calcium in room 6 you see.”

“I see that you’ve come up with a solution. I will pass this onto our seniors. Thank you and goodbye.”

She had to hang up as soon as possible. Preposterous! What kind of emergency was that?

The phone rang again.

It was Toby, a tabby cat, one of the support workers. Most likely another sick call. Had the boss not fallen for his dopey blue eyes and fluffy paws, Toby would have been fired months ago. Still, Plum wondered how many sick calls it would take before they sack him. Plum was curious to know what his extravagant excuse would be.

“Hello, Toby.”

“Hi, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you…I’m guessing you can’t make it work again?”

“No, I can’t come in today sorry.”

“What’s is it this time?”

“I’m stuck in the toilet.”

“I beg your pardon?” She heard no splashing, but plenty of glass clinks.

“I just thought the toilet would be a good place to have a paddle, and then I tripped now I can’t get out.”

“Have you tried meowing for help?”

“Meow!” The faintest cry Plum had ever heard. “I’m too tired.”

“Don’t tell me you overdosed on catnip again?”

“I’m not high at all. I’m just overwhelmed.”

“Well, let us know when you get better.”

“I will do! Goodbye now.”

“Bye!” Great, just what she needed. She’d have to send one of the monkeys over to Mr Aragon and his slithering wife. “I swear,”

she said to herself. “If that phone rings one more time I will…”

The phone vibrated in her hand. It was a call from Teddy Bear Hospice that housed severely disabled and injured creatures that made their final moments peaceful. “Hello?”

“Oh Plum!” Her colleague’s frantic panting startled Plum. “It’s Cherry Khan from the feline unit.”

“Ah what seems to be the problem?”

“Well, first of all, we’ve run out of bread!”

“But you’ve got a chef in the building!”

“I know, but we’ve got no oven trays. Mrs Fibre in room 9 is threatening to sue if she dosen’t get her marmite on toast.”

“Can’t you use something else?”

“I suppose these tins would have to do,” Cherry Khan growled. “I was hoping you’d buy some for us.”

“I can’t, I’m afraid.” After a few moments silence, Plum gulped. “Anyway, I’ll leave it with you.”

Just as she ended the call with Cherry, her manager called her personal phone. Slamming her forehead against her keyboard, she wondered if she would ever get a break.

“Hello?”

“Hey Plum, how is everything? Hope the on-call phone hasn’t been too busy?”

“I’ve had calls non-stop today!”

“Why, what’s up?”

“The milk’s out of date, no bread, Toby’s not coming to work because he’s stuck in the toilet.”

“Oh dear, never mind at least it’s nothing serious.” Ocean wave sounds coming through the telephone made Plum’s eyes glitter in envy. “Oh well, I better get going,” her boss said. “My excursion’s in an hour. Bye Plum!”

Plum roared and raged across the office, releasing all her steam. Her throat became strained as she rolled about. After grabbing all the bananas from her boss’ desk, she crashed through the wall, leaving a gaping hole.

Monkeys in janitor uniforms dragged their dustpans and brushes across the floor. One of them swept up the on-call phone.

Short Story
1

About the Creator

Chloe Gilholy

Former healthcare worker and lab worker from Oxfordshire. Author of ten books including Drinking Poetry and Game of Mass Destruction. Travelled to over 20 countries.

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  • aly suhailabout a year ago

    Good reading there.

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