That's V-U-L-C--
Look, you have the wrong number
I promise you
Yes, I understand that your baby is crying
I have excellent hearing and I can--
I have no idea if it's the croup
Vulcans don't get the croup
As children, when we feel upset
We think of a person on a distant planet
And they explode
This soothes us
Hang on, I have another call--
Mr. Spock here
Mrs. Marshall, for the third time
I have no idea why your son still hasn't moved onto solids
Perhaps your cooking is subpar
I sense that your son
Also finds you to be a rather sour woman
And he often dreams
About throwing his own feces at you
Does that help you at all?
No, I suppose it wouldn't
Perhaps it'll relieve you to know that your daughter
Will take very good care of you
Right up until you die
This is because she's never going to leave home
It's all she thinks about
How the two of you are going to die together
Practically arm-in-arm
Like two sad, spinster-y snakes
Interlocked for the rest of your time
There, now don't you feel better?
Hold please
Mrs. Kittridge, I've told you before
The child you're bearing
Plans on killing you
At some point upon leaving your body
Now, whether or not she'll succeed
Is not something you have any control over
Just try angling her away from any vital organs
While you're giving birth
And hope for the best
Although I would recommend immediately jettisoning her into space
Once she's born
Provided she doesn't take your life during labor
Hang on, Miss Walker is going to call me in three seconds
Wondering why her son isn't talking yet
I'll tell her to give it time
But the truth is
The child has dreams of becoming a mime
And he's already started practicing
Hold--
Miss Walker, don't worry about your son
He'll start talking any day now
And no, you shouldn't be worried
That he keeps acting like he's in an invisible box
That's perfectly normal
Have a good day
That poor woman
I hope Dr. Spock is doing as good a job at answering my calls
As I am with his
But I already know
The answer to that
To Be Continued...
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