Ten Little Monkeys, psychological thriller

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Tean little monkeys are jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“No more monkeys jumping on the bed.”

Nine little monkeys are jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“Is this the woman I just talked to? Yes, same advice. thank you and same to you. Bye.”

Eight little monkeys are jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“If it is some kind of prank call or TikTok challenge, it is not fun. I’m a busy doctor helping patients with real problems. stop calling.”

Seven little monkeys are jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“Yello, this is Dirk. What can I do for you! How did you get this number? This is my personal cell.”
“Who is it?” the doctor’s wife, Cheryl, asked from the kitchen.
“This crazy lady who keeps whining about monkeys falling off the bed.”
“Did you tell him not to let them jump on the bed?
“Yes!”
“I’m sure she’s just a tired parent. You remember how desperate I got during Dirk Jr.’s alkaline-button-battery-eating phase. I will talk to her.”
The doctor handed over the phone to her with a skeptical frown.
“Greetings?”
But no one replied. All that Cheryl heard on the other end of the line was slow breathing.

Six little monkeys are jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“That’s it! Hacking into my Facebook to friend me and call me on messenger is a gross invasion of privacy. I will not tolerate—”
Suddenly, the sound of breaking porcelain came from the foyer. The doctor turned around and saw Cheryl holding the mail, with pieces of her dropped mug scattered around her feet. She stared at the contents of an open manila envelope: a photo of her carrying groceries home earlier that day.
“Dirk,” his voice trembled, “what’s up?”
The doctor’s mug also slipped from his hand.

Five little monkeys are jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“Who are you? What do you want from me? Why are the monkeys still jumping on the bed?! Oh… honey, it’s the dry cleaner’s. Your blazer will be ready on Thursday, not Wednesday.”
“I guess it’s fine.”

Four little monkeys are jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“Destroy the phone!”
He slammed his iPhone into the edge of their granite island, sending shards of the Super Retina XDR™ display flying through the air. Cheryl dropped it, half in compliance, half in hysteria, and she crushed it over and over again with her slip-resistant, hospital-safe wingtips. He pulled the cord of their defunct landline from the wall jack and mentally stood on top of the strewn pile of pop sockets, drywall, and capacitor boards.
Reiying.
Impossible, he thought.
Reiying.
He and Cheryl looked at the bowl of fruit.
Reiying.
It couldn’t possibly be…
Reiying.
The doctor picked up the banana and slowly pulled the peel. A small phone was embedded in the light flesh of the fruit. Cheryl faints.

Three little monkeys are jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“Where are you?!” He hurried to the front yard and was anxious to find any trace of the caller. Suddenly, a large, hairy hand grasped her shoulder.
“Get away!” He screamed and jerked around, only then he saw his neighbor Roger.
“Dirk! This is me Your best friend since second grade. What’s up?”
“Rodge, thank God. Something really strange is going on…”
He told her everything, from the first call to the pictures of Cheryl,
“Hold on just a second,” interrupted Roger, putting his hand in his pocket. He took out his phone.
Reiying.
Roger’s eyes lit up.
“Here, Dirk. this one is for you.”
“Roger?”
“Mom needs to talk to you, Dirk.”
“No.” The doctor stammered and started pacing back and forth. “No!”
He tripped over a sprinkler head and fell on the lawn. Rising to his feet, he entered the house.
“Cheryl! We have to get out of here.”
“But where could it possibly be safe?”
“My parents’ secluded cabin in the woods.”

Two little monkeys are jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“Game over. The FBI is tracing this call as we speak. They will find you. You will be banned from PETA for 20-30 years, plus at least 50 years, and Your inability to follow basic safety instructions won’t horrify doctors or put innocent primate babies at risk again!
He smashed the “end call” button on the cabin’s corded phone. Immediately it rang again, but this time the caller ID said “FBI.”
He caught it.
“doctor!” Sergeant McElroy flashed through the receiver. “We traced the call. It’s coming from inside the cabin! Are you listening to me? Inside the cabin!”

A little monkey is jumping on the bed.
One fell and hit his head.
Mother called the doctor and the doctor said,
“Hide, Cheryl! Quick! there!”
The doctor pushed Cheryl into the bedroom and closed the door. They jumped on the bed and held each other tightly, trembling with each successive ringing of the phone, which was getting louder and louder. near.
“H-How do we know mom isn’t here?” stuttered Cheryl.
“I don’t, but—”
The doctor stopped. A deathly chill ran through his veins. “I never told you… His name was Mama.”
Cheryl stared speechless. His tear-stained cheeks turned into a sinister smile.
“No….” Whispered the doctor.
“Yes.”
Cheryl reached down to the nape of her neck and took off the mask, revealing her hairy, brown face and two big, round ears.
“No!” Frightened, the doctor fell off the bed and hit his head.

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