Felix looked at the LED style clock to the left of him, just above his cubicle, and was quickly discouraged by the time he saw. Feeling he might be lucky, he decided to check a similarly designed clock on the far wall of the call center and stared at the time until he told himself he would never look at clocks ever again. Both clocks proudly ticked within seconds apart from eachother, and in both cases, they read a quarter past the first fifteen minutes of his first shift of the week, and it was going distinctly slower than he had expected it to.

He recieved a call.

“Telephone operator,” his voice brimmed with as much excitement as a turtle at high noon, “how can I help you today?”

“Yes,” replied the voice on the other end, “I’d like to make a call, please.”

“What kind of call?”

“You know, one of those calls where the other guy picks up the charges.”

“A collect call? Can I have your name, please?”

“Yes, a collect call. That’s certainly it,” returned the as of yet anonymous caller. “That is indeed the type of call I would like to make. You see, we have new management here and we’ve just adopted this new system of calling clients collect. I guess we wanted to cut down on costs wherever we could, so now we’re passing the buck. But I don’t think you need to hear my whole life story.”

“No, I really don’t,” replied Felix, feeling his will to live dip dangerously below the point of no return. “Your name, please.”

“Certainly. The call is on behalf of Nature.”

A profound silence fell over both parties. The type of silence that make astronauts in the deep black of space stop and contemplate their place in the universe before realizing they’ve run out of oxygen as a result of their existential ponderings.

“Nature?” Felix finally broke in after he came to the conclusion that his place in the universe amounted to nothing more than a spec on a spec taking calls from other specs who haven’t quite figured that out yet.

“As in Mother Nature, protect the environment nature or she’ll send a tornado your way, nature?”

“Well, that’s not my department, exactly, although we have a respectable amount of business with eachother. Sort of an hollistic organization, you know what I mean?”

“Not at all. So you want me to announce you as Nature?”

“Yes son. Boy, you aren’t quite on the ball today, now are you? I represent an affiliation branch of Nature inc., and we’re calling somebody to remind him that he has a little something to take care of in the you know where, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I’m going crazy.”

This was not the first time Felix had this thought. In fact, he felt that his level of craziness had been steadily increasing ever since he started watching squirrels mate in trees and enjoyed it as a substitute to the internet.

“I’ve heard some clever pranks over the years, but this is certainly one for the Christmas party.”

“Now listen, will you? This isn’t a prank, and if you don’t send this call in right away, we’re going to have a serious accident in the water works. Do you catch my drift?”

“I really do need a real name in order to place a collect call. Pseudonyms don’t work, unfortunately. It’s against policy. I mean, you can’t really expect me to believe that Nature is calling somebody collect.”

No matter how much he wanted to believe that, something about this day was making him question even that last fragment of reality.

“Well, how else is Mother Nature supposed to call people? Sayings like that don’t just pop in and out of existence at their very whim, you know. They have meaning, my friend. And if it weren’t collect, you would have expected us to call everybody directly? And who would pay the phone bill every month? Money doesn’t grow on trees, my friend. Well, actually, it does, but it’s a very highly regulated tree controled by a small minority of people. It’s terribly hard to get near it.”

“Are you making all of this up on the spot, or have you practised before you called? Because I have to say, that is some impressive work. I have never heard a prank call with so much determination to its character. I commend you, and I respect your vision. You are truly an artist.”

“You mortals these days have really grown up differently than we had expected. It was only a few thousand years ago we were able to get entire populations of people to believe in us with the simplest of miracles. A few multiplying fish, an over zelous chemist fermenting water into wine, forest dwellers transforming into eagles, and poof! People believed in us. Now look at what we have to do. You all wanted miracles for proof and we gave them to you. Now that you’re actually talking to Nature, you don’t believe in us.”

Felix thought about this for a second.

“I’m really quite sorry, mister. But if you don’t give me a real name, I won’t be able to place this call for you.”

“A real name? More real than Nature? How much more real can you get?”

“I don’t know, sir. Like Robert Zacherman, or something. That’s a real name, I think. Or at least it sounds like a real name. I’m sure somebody somewhere in the world is walking around with that name. I mean, you don’t have to hold me to that. It’s just an example of what a real name sort of sounds like.”

“How sad it must be to live your life. This is on your conscience, buddy. I suppose this is just one more failure on the part of Nature. A new method shot to hell. Time to restructure once again. I hope you’re happy.”

The phone clicked shut, and Felix was left in his chair staring at the screen. His finger hovered over the next call button but he shivered with bewilderment. He removed his headset and told his supervisor he was taking a five minute break.

“Tonight, on the six o’clock news,” whispered the televisions in the corners of the call center, “forty year old air liner emerges out of the Bermuda Triangle. Two hundred survivors. A miracle or hoax? In sports, Michael Jordan actually flies. And later, man dies in downtown apartment from exploding bladder. In sports and entertainment, the steps you can take to prepare for the Zombie apocalypse.”

“Listen, Clooney”, shouted Ingrid Newkirk over the telephone, “this is vitally important. We need a sample of your sweat, damnit!

“Who is this?”, asked Clooney, poking his chin in admiration.

“We don’t have time for questions!”

“Well, you know. Instead of that, you could have told me who you were. It would probably have taken up far less time, considering now I’m going to ask you again. So, who the hell is this?”

“You play it tough, Clooney. Alright, I’ll bite. You want to play it that way?”

“Is this a game? I’ll be white. Can I move first?”

“Wait, what? No, listen… George – may I call you George?”

“No. You can call me Batman if you like, though.”

“… Listen, Clooney. All I meant to say was.. urgh, now I’ve lost my train of thought.”

In the background, a voice shouted in affirmation, “His sweat, Ingrid! His sweat!”.

“Oh goodness,” continued Newkirk, “I can’t believe I forgot. Listen, Clooney. Your sweat. We need it.”

Silence.

“Clooney?”

More silence.

“Batman?”

“I’m here. What’s the problem, commissioner?”

Newkirk stammered in confusion. She would not be deterred, however.

“Here’s the deal, Batman. Eh… Joker’s escaped from,” she mutes the reciever, “what’s that place called?”, she asks her assistants, “Markam? Bakram? Guantanamo? Arkham! He’s escaped from Arkham, Batman. We need your help!”

“The Joker! That devilish fiend!” retorted Clooney, still toying with his chin. “Where did I put my mask, now… Is it in the closet? No, those are my Ocean’s 11 suits. Hey, don’t tell the agency, eh? They think a temp stole them. Morons. Hmmm… How about in the chest in the guest room. Ah, there it is. My precious.”

“Cloo… Batman? You still there?”

Amidst the static, Newkirk heard a brustling sound on Clooney’s end.

“Yes! Alfred, activate the bat-elevator! To the Bat-mobile! Alfred? Hey, what did you do with Alfred?”

“What? Me? Clooney, enough of this. I never would have thought you’d make asking for your sweat in order to manufacture a new line of tofu modeled around your natural smell more awkward than it already is. You could have just said no.”

“You clever little wench! I know you’ve taken Alfred! What, you think you can just come in here and buy off my butlers and not expect to be called on it? I’ll find you. And when I do, I’ll kill you!”

“Clooney, seriously. You can get out of character now.”

“DEAD, you hear me! You’re dead!”

“Ok, thanks for your time, Clooney. My reps will call your reps and we’ll get an official response from you. Have a good one. Oh, and don’t forget, save the whales.”

Newkirk hung up the phone and turned to her assistants in bemusement. “That did not work out nearly as well as I had hoped it would,” said Newkirk. “That was almost as bad as the time we had to explain our big crematorium out back. Who’s idea of CloFu was it, anyway? Tell them they’re fired.”

Back at Wayne Manor, Clooney was rushing to his library.

“Who was on the phone, Batman?” asked Robin expectantly.

“Two-Face, Robin. It was Two-Face. He’s got Alfred!”

THE END

But seriously, Clooney’s actual response is way better than anything I could ever come up with.