The smell of scrambled eggs, beans, toast and aged coffee has conquered the entire living room and kitchen. The garage door closes with a quirky noise and the old diesel truck sounds like it going on its last cylinder when it works itself up the steep icy driveway. The clock makes eight Westminster chimes while she feeds the leftover scrambled eggs to his fat cat. She is plugging in the vacuum cleaner when the phone starts ringing. She sighs and answers the phone “Yes?”
“It’s me” she hears him saying. “I am standing here at the restaurant wrapped in a bathing towel. I took the short-cut over the ice bridge and the truck went thru the ice. Can …” Her face becomes more and more annoyed with every word he says. She interrupts him “Your annual April first’s I’ve broken thru the ice story gets boring. Have a nice day sweetie.”, hangs up, and goes back to her vacuum cleaning.
The cat jumps onto the kitchen counter to lick some water from the outlet. Her eyes go up following the cat’s movement and her face turns white and expresses sheer horror. She runs to phone, keys in the restaurant’s number. Busy sign. “Oh, no!” she screams. She hangs up, tries again, sweating and is terrified. Still hammering on the phone’s keys she hears a car rolling into the driveway.
The door bell rings. She feels her heart beam in her throat when hasting to the door and nearly pulls the door out of the frame meanwhile in tears. She wraps the arms around the guy with a water dripping plastic bag, who is wrapped in a bathing towel.
He laughs “I guess I threw too many jokes at you in the last 40+ years, sweetie. How did you find out that this time it wasn’t a joke?” The state tropper’s car hauls up the driveway. She whispers under tears of relieve “The cat told me. His ears pointed to the calendar.”
Photos: G. Kramm (2015)
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