I have a friend who has a talking dog named King.
He is a good conversationalist, and we have many interesting talks in a wide range of topics.
Normally, I talk to King in person, but the other day I decided to phone him, since he is in my friend's voice mailbox under No. 7.
When the mailbox answered, I dutifully pushed seven and the following ensued:
King's voice stated, "I'm out sniffing around in the back yard. Your call is very important to me. Please listen to the following menu and push the appropriate button. If you'd like to speak with my mistress, please press one; if you'd like to speak with my master, please press two; if you'd like to speak with my trainer, please press three; if you'd like to speak with my veterinarian, please press four; if you'd like to speak with one of my fleas, please press five. Bow-wow, and thank you."
Overcome by curiosity, I decided to talk with a flea. I pushed five and a bizarre little voice said, "Thank you
For calling King's fleas. Your call is very important to us. Please listen carefully to the following menu: If you would like to speak with the head flea, please press one; if you would like to speak with a flea in our blood analysis bureau, please press two; if you would like to speak with someone in our flea rights section, please press three; if you would like to speak with a service flea, please press four."
In desperation, I pressed four. After about five minutes of banal, electronic-sounding flea elevator music, another tiny voice answered: "All of our flea representatives are busy, servicing valued friends and customers such as yourself. Please try to call us at a later time. Your call is very important to us."
I decided to hang up and drive over to King's place for an in-person chat. He was poking around the front yard as I drove up.
"You're a tough dog to reach by phone," I offered.
"Don't blame me for that voice mailbox and menu idiocy," he sniffed. "I've been doing a lot of complaining about it and - as a matter of fact -" even the fleas are bugged."