disclaimer: colourful language herein

April Fool’s is a fun day. If you’re not the butt thereof.

The morning was fast ticking away, and Prankster Peas, fast realising that if Prankee Dove didn’t get the fuck out of bed/out of her meeting/log onto her email, that when the clock struck noon, she’d be the fool. Notsomuch Dove. Time was, therefore, of the essence.

It was 11:05am when I placed the first panicked voicemail message. Which comprised: ‘Dude. Where are you? We have a problem. A serious problem. Involving our flights to Amsterdam. Call me back, ‘cos it looks like we’re a bit screwed,’ that she finally picked up her phone.

Dove: China I’ve been in a meeting all morning, what’s the big panic?

Peas: Dude! Fuck! Have you checked your email today?

Dove: No, am logging on now, why?

Peas: China. Did you get that email from KLM? Fuck it, I’ll forward it to you.*
* Part of cunning plan.

Dove: [silence as she reads it.] Cock. Sucking. Mother. Fucker. What the fuck is this? Who the hell do these assholes think they are? What the hell is going on?

Peas: Dude, get a load of the balls on this company. From what I gather we don’t have flights to Amsterdam anymore. Have you SEEN the criteria? What do we do?

Dove: I actually can’t even BELIEVE this. THEY’RE TRYING TO SELL US A FUCKEN FREQUENT FLYER CARD AFTER THEY’VE BASICALLY TOLD US WE DON’T HAVE SEATS. THE FUCKEN NERVE. THEY’RE TRYING TO FUCKEN BOMBARD US WITH RETAIL PROMOTIONS WORTH 600 EUROS AND WE DON’T HAVE SEATS WE’VE ALREADY PAID FOR BECAUSE THEY FUCKED UP WITH OVERBOOKINGS.

Peas: We’re going to have to lie…….Should we lie?

Dove: CUNTS. OK, hang on hang on. Fuck. We can’t lie. Because they’ll know. I think they’re going to suss out the fact that we’re not black, Peas.

Peas: Really? I don’t know, I mean I could pretend I work in a supermarket…in Soweto. You know, for the LSM question?

Dove: OK. OK. OK listen to me. Let’s think. We need to think this through, we’re about to lose R16000 worth of flights. We need to think.

Peas: We’re as good as fucked.

Dove: OK. Let’s go through these questions…I can’t believe this is happening. They don’t even allow the option to say I’m white? LSM 1-5? That’s people living in shacks who don’t even own vacuum cleaners.
Why the FUCK would THEY want to go to Amsterdam? Of all places?

Peas: To get high?

Dove: OK, hang on….we weigh less than 60 kgs, we can maybe get our seats back based on that. Fuck, why did they not MENTION this in their disclaimer?

Peas: You have to answer ALL the questions to their requirements, not just one. Weighing less than 60 kgs isn’t gonna cut it. And! And! They don’t even reimburse us.

Dove: This is FUCKED. I’m phoning that lady. Or maybe the travel agent. Ok wait. You phone that Dutch Anne-Marie person and I’ll phone the travel agent.
Now listen carefully, this is what you need to say:
You need to stay calm and professional Peas. Don’t piss them off. I have a friend who works in the tourism industry and when he went to Holland in the 80s, they didn’t shake his hand because of Apartheid. So we have to be very polite and know our rights. In Rome they shake your hand if you’re white, but he said in Amsterdam they don’t. So we have to be very careful.

Peas: No. Ways. We’re doomed. [I’ve got handshakes in both Rome and Amsterdam before, so this was an interesting bit of news]

Dove: Wait!….what are we lacking? OK OK. I have an idea.
Let’s say that you have a mental illness – we can say you’re retarded or something – does that make us BEE compliant?

Peas: No.

Dove: Shit. That would’ve been our ticket outta this mess.

Peas: Yeah. Quite literally.

Dove: OK, listen to me, and listen carefully. Just say to them that if we knew they had this partnership in place we never would’ve flown them in the first place. And they should’ve said something before.

Peas: They probably did. But who really reads the fine print.

Dove: [Now a high-pitched shriek, and she has a husky voice] We got NO fucking WARNING. Can’t BELIEVE this.
Right. Phone her and ask for a refund. Just don’t say you work where you work, don’t mention your company unless they ask. At all Peas, are you hearing me?
Also mention that we both weigh about 57 kgs and that you’re…slightly retarded. Just be calm. I’m gonna phone the travel agent in the meantime. They’re NOT gonna get away with this. Not on my fucken clock.

[pause]

Dove: Cunts.

Peas: Can’t we try the business angle? Like I need supplies for my supermarket in Soweto? Mini windmills…and tulips…..and clogs….and shit?

Dove: No. I’m gonna sue these bastards, don’t you worry, we can actually sue them.

Peas: We’re not black, and we don’t live in a shack. And I dunno about you, but I own a vacuum cleaner. On what grounds could we sue them?

Dove: On not telling us, that’s what.

Peas: OK I’m gonna phone her, in fact I’ll phone the CEO cc’ed on our email. Don’t worry, I’ll just say we’re getting on that plane come hell or high water. We’ll sneak on or something.

Dove: What??

Peas: People from Nigeria have done it before.

Dove: Right. That’s it. I’m phoning her.

…………………

[some minutes pass]

……………………

Peas: So what did the travel agent say? Are we allowed to sue them or what?

Dove: No. She was a little rattled, but china, good news. She thinks it’s a prank. She reckons someone at KLM is taking the piss. This whole thing could be spam or a prank.

Peas: No one at KLM is taking the piss.

Dove: She says she’s never heard of this before. And she works for Flite Centre, so she could be onto something.

Peas: I pranked you, not KLM.

Dove: ……..[silence]….what?

Peas: Happy April Fool’s my favourite little slapper on the planet!..........um, I love you?

Dove: You? THIS WAS YOU?

Peas: Correct.

Dove: You’re a fucking cunt.

Peas: You love me.

Dove: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT THE HELL, WHERE DO YOU GET THIS SHIT FROM? So the whole of Flite Centre is basically pissing themselves right now?

Peas: [sigh] Probably.

Dove: Rest assured. I’m gonna set an alarm for next April Fool’s and fuck you over soooooooooo badly.

[pause]

Dove: Where in your brain do you find this shit? Did you make the entire thing up? Like the entire thing?

Peas: Dialing codes, names, legislation. Good luck next year, my little cunt.