“Missing Skeletons Hotline. How may I direct your call?”
“Chief Birdygo Chip here.”
“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
“Birdygo Chip.”
“Birdygo Cheap?”
“No. Birdygo CHIP CHIP. I’m calling to find out if anyone’s reported a missing skeleton with two left feet.”
“One moment, please.”
“Missing Skeletons Hotline. Reports Department. How may I help you?”
“Weren’t we just talking a moment ago?”
“Yes. How may I help you?”
“Um, I’m calling to find out if anyone’s reported a missing skeleton with two left feet.”
“One moment, please.”
“Oh, good grief.”
“I’m still on the line, sir.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.”
“We don’t have any reports of missing skeletons fitting that description.”
“Missy, is that you?”
“Hi Birdy! Yeah, it’s me.”
“I didn’t know you were working at the hotline!”
“Yeah. My mom and dad told me I had to get a job.”
“I hope it wasn’t because of your public display of pubic symphysis last year.”
“No. It’s because I turned eighteen.”
“Oh. Got it. Any suggestions for me on this case?”
“Have you tried Boners?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The restaurant and night club in the red-light district.”
“Oh. No, I haven’t. Is the food any good?”
“I don’t know about the food, but I’ve heard that the Boners Girls are really bad dancers. Maybe one of them’s gone missing.”
“Okay. Thanks, kid.”
“Anytime!”
“Jesus, Missy, who was that?!”
“That bonehead of a police chief calling about a leg and a foot found in a crock-pot of creamy chipped beef and cheese. I sent him off to Boners. That should keep him busy for a while.”
“So, everything’s going according to plan?”
“So far, yes, Coco. The last thing I need is for that idiot to screw things up. I’ve been cultivating those Terranean arms dealers since Nowruz.”
Mr. Funny Bones 
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