Ornesta Tells ‘Em Off!

I got a phone call from Ornesta Fruggenbotham the other day.  You might remember Ornesta.  She’s the lady from the U. P.* that has way more extreme things happen to her than I ever thought of having happen to me. 

“Well, helloooo, Ornesta!  I haven’t heard from you since you put me up in your ice shanty a couple of winters ago!  Have the bluebells peeked through the snow drifts up there yet?” 

“Yes, and the lemmings did their yearly stampede, too.  It was a sad sight.  I cried for a week.  Why haven’t you written any funny stuff lately to cheer me up on such occasions?”

“Well, I just haven’t felt … funny.  But let me guess.  You’re calling because you have a story, right?”

“Yes, I do!  And I was wondering if you could write it all up for me, and slap your style on it, so that you have to put that cute little disclaimer in there about how it’s my relatives and not yours.” 

“You know, Ornesta, I much prefer it straight from the caribou’s mouth.  How ’bout if I hook up the voice recorder, you just give me the scoop, and we’ll let ’em have it just as it happened?”

“OK.  You know that Craig’s List place on the World Wide Web?  Well, Bud discovered it, and I can’t get him to leave it alone.”

“Oh? What’s he buying, London Bridge?” 

“It’s what he’s selling.  You know how my mom always keeps food forever and then tries to pawn it off on us?”

“Yeah, like the bluegills she’d had in the freezer for fifteen years, and then she tried to make me eat them while I was living in the shanty — thought I’d like to do a backyard fish fry — in December.”

“And the frosting that was seven years past the expiration date.  Duncan Hines goo in a bucket.  Well, she gave me this jar of Sanka –“ 

“Sanka, as in instant decaf?  Official drink of the Apollo astronauts?”

“I think they drank Tang, but yeah.  Some people keep strawberry preserves.  My mom kept Sanka preserves.  Embalmed in its original jar, with the seal still unbroken.  Best used by March of 1969.  Well, Bud saw the possibilities, and posted it at Craig’s List in the ‘vintage’ category.” 

“It’s good he didn’t know about Craig’s List back in the day of the expired goo in a bucket, I guess.  But, I would imagine there is quite a market for a rare item like Sanka preserves, right?”

“Well, Bud thought it was worth a try.  Waxed paper straws are a hot item, so why not Sanka from the golden years?  So, while he was outside selling the family car, the phone rang — one of those ‘private name, private number’ calls.  Normally I wouldn’t have answered, but Mom’s doctor likes to call incognito like that, so I thought I’d better answer it, in case her intestines were flip-flopping again.  They always call me when that happens. 

“So this guy asks for Bud in a very pleasant, businessman kind of voice, and I said, ‘He’s outside selling the family buggy.  Can I take a message?’

“And he says, ‘Well, no, I was just curious to find out what kind of an idiot would try to sell a jar of Sanka on Craig’s List.’

“I have lived with Bud for close to thirty-five years, and I never noticed that he had any problems approaching that degree of distinction.  What do you think?”

“Well, he seemed pretty normal to me when I was up there.  Maybe a little jollier than anybody living that far north has a right to be in the middle of winter, but I would say his mental faculties seemed to be in order.”

“That’s what I thought!  And so I said, real polite and sober-like, ‘Well, if you’re going to insult him, I don’t see any reason to let you talk to him.’

“And he sasses back at me as pretty as you please, ‘Lady, I’m not only going to insult him.  I’m going to walk him up one side of the street and down the other, and –‘ 

“And that’s when I got mad, so I interrupted, ‘Sir, you know that family buggy that Bud’s selling outside?  Well, it was Teddy Roosevelt’s first Model T, with the original tires and everything — ALSO listed in the vintage department at Craig’s List.  We bought it from Teddy’s granddaughter.  And just to be nice, she threw in a jar of Teddy’s Sanka as part of the deal.’   

“By that time, I think I heard a little gurgling on the other end of the line, which I took as encouragement, since he hadn’t hung up yet, and I wasn’t anywhere near finished, ’cause I was plenty mad. 

“‘Do you know where that jar of Sanka has been, sir?  It rode up San Juan Hill with Teddy, tucked in his back pocket, because he didn’t ever want to be without his favorite blend, and it saved him from taking a bullet, which is why Bud mentioned in the ad that the label has a slight tear in it.  And if that ain’t vintage enough for you and Craig’s List, then I can’t help you!'”

“Um, and then what happened?”

“Not much.  I hung up to let him think about it, that’s all.”

“Ornesta, tell me the truth, now.  You don’t really own Teddy Roosevelt’s first Model T, do you?”

“No, and Teddy didn’t ride up San Juan Hill with a jar of Sanka in his pocket that was best used by March, 1969, either.  But we’ll just let Mr. Smarty-Pants that has nothing to do all day but call nice people up and insult them think whatever he pleases.  He’ll probably have to Google ‘Teddy Roosevelt + Sanka’ to find out for sure.”

*U. P. — Michigan’s Upper Peninsula

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