THREE O’CLOCK MIRACLE

THREE O’CLOCK MIRACLE

 

Barnard was deep in la-la land, after a night of debauchery, drinking and carousing with his buddies.

He miraculously found his way home drunk as a skunk, fell into bed and passed out.

The jarring sound of his telephone ringing roused him from his alcohol-induced stupor. He fumbled for the phone, dropped it on the floor and fell off the bed, trying desperately to retrieve it.

Still lying on the floor, he picked up the receiver.

“Is this 911?”

“No lady, it’s just a guy with a hangover.”

“I want 911”!

“Not 911, lady, just a drunk”.

“Are you sure? I really need help!”

“Perfectly sure. I want to hang up now! My head is killing me!”

“Oh, please don’t. I really do need help”.

“Lady, I can’t even help myself; bad enough you. Please hang up and redial 911.”

“I did dial 911 and got you. It’s an omen. I know you can help me.”

“No way, lady. Just hang up!”

“My cat just passed away! Her name was Piewacky. She was my best friend. I loved her. What should I do?”

“Hang up, dammit!”

“Well, okay you mean, mean man.” (phone goes dead)

Barnard passes out once again.

He sleeps past noon. Upon returning to the world of the living, he sees a note pinned to his sweat-laden blanket.

 

The perfumed note instructs him to go to a particular address. He drags his sorry behind out of bed and tosses the note aside.

After a very long shower and three cups of very strong coffee, he has second thoughts about the note, barely recalling the three AM phone call. His curiosity is peaked.

After much deliberation with himself, he decides to go to the address. (He still has no memory of hailing a cab.)

He rings the bell. It is answered by a gorgeous woman who looks mysteriously like Kim Novak!

She asks him in. A white Persian cat enters the room and wraps herself around his leg. He says: “That cat ain’t dead. Why’d ya call me?”

 

She tells him that this cat is the sister of Piewackey.

. “I’ve had enough of this garbage!” He starts to leave. “My head is splitting, I’m going to up-chuck and my mouth feels like the Sahara Desert!”

The cat settles on Barnard’s lap, softly purring. Like magic, his headache goes away as does his nausea. His vertigo miraculously disappears.

“What the hey?”

“Next time don’t be so rude on the phone. Politeness counts.”

“Meow” ……