Mike Adriano leaned back in his chair, phone clutched in hand, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. The idea of prank-calling the Simpsons Hotel had struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he couldn't resist the temptation.

The phone shrieked, and Homer picked it up absentmindedly. "Hello, is this the manager of the donut department? I need to report an emergency!" came Mike's exaggerated voice, dripping with urgency. "Donut department? Uh, hold on, let me check," Homer muttered, scratching his head, clearly bewildered. He wandered off, leaving the phone dangling.

Marge, the hotel's sassy manager, intercepted Homer as he wandered aimlessly. "Homer, what are you doing? Get back to the desk!" she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Someone said there's a donut emergency," Homer explained sheepishly. "A donut emergency? Honestly, Homer," Marge sighed, shaking her head.

Mike dialed again, this time adopting a high-pitched voice. "Hello, I'm calling from room 304. I think my room is haunted, and the ghost wants extra pillows!" he squeaked. Marge answered, her patience waning. "Sir, we don't entertain ghosts. Only guests," she replied with a hint of sarcasm.

Mike couldn't resist one last attempt. He called, disguising his voice with a gravelly tone. "I heard there's a secret menu at the hotel restaurant. Is it true they serve Krusty Burgers with a twist?" Marge, now amused, decided to play along. "Only if you know the password, which is 'D'oh!' How about that?"

Mike chuckled, satisfied with his evening's antics. He leaned back, contemplating his next prank, knowing that the Simpsons Hotel would always be fertile ground for mischief.