The Baboons Are Among Us!

One of the perks (and there are not many) of working for the government is that you get to meet lots of different people who do lots of different things. You know the guy that owns the local auto shop, and the owners of many different businesses, you know firefighters, highway workers, politicians, preachers, and cops. I even know the guy that works that big screen at the stadium. Out of all of these people, the cops generally have the best stories, and that is why you are reading this today. Over the years I have been able to form a friendship with the guy that answers the phone at one of the local police departments.
Apparently the other day the police got a call from John. John owns a business in the town, I don't know if its a restaurant or gas station or what, it really doesn't matter. John was calling to report that every night when he closes up shop he places all of his dirty linen in a bin at the back of his building. Early the next morning a linen service (I didn't know that there was such a thing) picks up the linen to be laundered. I don't know how the clean linen gets back to the shop, but that isn't essential to the story. Anyway, John or Fred or whoever calls in and says that he received a call from the linen service stating that when they arrived that morning to pick up the linen they found a sheep in the linen bin. My friend, the call-taker, asked the obvious question, "Is it alive?" John informed him that the sheep was dead. A dead sheep was found in his linen bin. John further informed my friend that the driver of the linen truck had, for an unknown reason, taken the dead sheep with him. Both intrigued and appalled, my friend attempted to have an officer respond to the shop. Calls for dead sheep in linen bins are apparently not highly valued among police officers, and a small argument ensued. By the time an officer arrived at the shop, John was not to be found. Fortunately, my friend had obtained a phone number for the linen company. Unfortunately, the woman at the linen company knew nothing about a dead sheep, but would contact the truck driver that had that route and have him contact the police station.
It was over an hour before the driver called in, and in that time there was no little debate over the origin, and current state, of the sheep. The business was not in a rural area, so where did the sheep come from? Was it a ritual killing? Was it big or small? Had it been someone's pet? Why would the linen company know nothing about one of their employee's finding a dead sheep? What were the driver's intentions with the sheep? At last the phone rang. It was the driver. The desk sergeant, and man of considerable experience, took the phone and informed the driver that he was calling about the dead sheep. The conversation went something like this:

"I need to know more about the dead sheep that you found."

"The what?"

"The dead sheep."

"Who is this?"

"This is the police."

"No really, who is this?"

"I told you. This is the police, and I need to know more about the dead sheep that you found in the linen bin at the shop in town today."

"I found a bag of bed sheets," the driver was a bit confused. "That business never put out bed sheets before and I called the owner to see if they were actually his. I don't know anything about any sheep."

By now the sergeant had figured out what had happened, but needed to maintain an appearance of dignity, so he apologized for the confusion and ended the call quickly. While the officers all had a good laugh, my friend became a bit concerned. Obviously there had been a mistake made somewhere along the line. If he had mistaken "bed sheets" for "dead sheep" his time answering phones for the police station may be rapidly coming to an end. He consoled himself with the fact that he had asked John if the sheep was alive and the answer wasn't, "Of course they aren't, they're just sheets!" Eventually the sergeant was able to contact John, who still believed that a dead sheep had been found in his linen bin, and explained the what had happened (John had forgotten how to hear). My friend was not at fault, and everyone went about their business.

My point in this story is that the Baboons are among us. John's Baboon was the malicious kind that puts dead sheep in peoples' linen bins. The truck driver's Baboon was some phone prankster pretending to be a police sergeant. My Baboon was my friend who performed pranks and told stories for my pleasure. In short though, we are all a Baboon to someone sometime, so make sure to guard you candy and cover your linen bins.