Irrelevant Cheetah

It was the middle of the evening - 9:00 or so - and the Wife and I were watching some mindless TV. The Offspring was in bed.

The phone rang. We normally don’t get many phone calls after 7 (yeah, our lives are that exciting,) so we looked at the caller ID. “Evergreen Helicopters,” it said.

I looked at her. She looked at me. I shrugged. She shrugged. In an unspoken agreement, neither of us answered, and we let the machine get it.

Four rings later, the machine kicked on. “Um, yeah… This is George at Evergreen,” said the tinny voice coming out of the speaker. “We can’t find one of our helicopters, and we were wondering if you might know something about it. Call me when you get in, would you?” Click.

The Wife’s head swiveled a full 180 degrees, and the diameter of her eyeballs was matched only by the rapidly escalating pitch and volume of her voice as she zeroed in on me. “WHAT. DID. YOU. DO!?!?!?”

My hands flew up as I attempted to protest my innocence. “Nothing! I know nothing!” Unfortunately, something like this would be right up my alley, so I was at a distinct disadvantage.

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything, and I pressed onward. “Honestly, dear. I’ve never heard of Evergreen, and do you really think that if I did know them, and if I had done something with their helicopter, I’d give them my home phone number?”

She appeared to relax a little. “You’re sure?”

I shrugged and reached for my most disarming smile. “Honest. I’m innocent. But I’ve been meaning to tell you that we need more camouflage tarps, and I’ll be out of town tomorrow for a bit. The less you know, et cetera et cetera.” Her eyebrows went up again, but (thankfully) she knew by then I was joking.

We never heard from Evergreen again. I hope they found their helicopter.