April's Real Blog

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Mike has a random story from the past

Sadly, we R still in reminiscing. This time, Mike has a story 4 U, which he posted l8 last nite:

Formerly little sis. Just the other day, as I caught my son trying to eat the telephone, I was reminded of a story of my past when I was just a little older than he was and I had to deal with the telephone. I said, “Son, I remember when I was just a little older than you are and I had to deal with the telephone.” In preparation for my story, his eyes took on an absent look, waiting for a reminiscence of great meaning to fill his young, small brain. This is the story I told:

I was lying on the floor, playing with Legos, as I usually did with my right hand bearing a strong resemblance to the letter Q and wearing those special pants mom made for me where she mismeasured the inseam so the crotch was about at my knee. I loved those pants. They were great whenever I wanted to play a merman. I loved the mermen. They always had naked chests and they never wore sea shells like the mermaids did.

On this occasion, I heard the sound “RRINGG!” Naturally I knew this was the phone and not the front door. I picked it up and said, “Hello?” I remember this was especially difficult, because my right arm had chosen that particular time to mutate my wrist and arm to look a little like a fried chicken leg. Little Lizzie must have thought the same thing because she headed toward me with hunger in her eyes. Let me tell you there is nothing worse than having a fried chicken leg-shaped arm, being gnawed on by a nearly toothless, younger sister. I had to deflect her assault somehow. The person on the other end of the line said, “May I speak to Elly Patterson?” I said, “No, she’s outside right now.—Wanna talk to my baby sister?” Then I handed the phone to Lizzie and the attack was deflected. Mission accomplished.

Lizzie took the phone out of my hand and with her massive, muscular, beefy arms; and said very clearly, “Glah? Da-da-da? COOKIE! Num-num!” I remember well thinking that this might be one of the most articulate moments of her life, and that has proven to be the case. However, the person on the other end of the phone didn’t think so, and he yelled out “*!!{Saturn}@*” at Lizzie. Lizzie was taken aback by the geometric shapes and took her head away from the phone receiver. I took this opportunity to take the phone back from Lizzie. She was upset when I did this and grabbed at the wire on the phone and turned red in the face. Interestingly enough, she did not start screaming until later, so I was able to speak again to the person on the other line. I had hoped to learn more geometric symbols; but the man became strangely quiet, and said he wanted to talk to mom again. I said, “Yeah? You still want wanna talk to her? OK--”

This was the tricky part. Mom had told me not to leave Lizzie alone; but the man on the phone wanted to speak to Mom. How could I get Mom and still not leave Lizzie alone? Brilliantly smart as I was, the answer soon came to me. I held the phone away from my mouth, and yelled, “MAAH” as loud as I could, in order to get her attention from the outside. As I put the phone receiver to my head to tell the man I had called for Mom, I was surprised by a few things:

1. I heard a “CLICK” sound which either meant the man hung up or he had started to speak Xhosa, that African language that uses clicking sounds to talk.
2. I suddenly realized that the phone receiver was bigger than my head.
3. I suddenly realized that the sleeves on my shirt were no longer the same length.

Mom heard my cry and came in with sweat upon her brow, and gardening gloves and a gardening trowel in her hands. I held the phone up to her with both hands in supplication and said, “It’s for you.” I was afraid of what would happen when she discovered the man on the other end of the phone had hung up. Fortunately, Mom is not nearly as accurate with a gardening trowel as she is with a coffee cup.

That was the lesson my son learned from me that day. Sure enough it worked. No longer does he try to the eat the phone. But he has developed a certain predilection for garden trowels.


Michael Patterson
I guess that was supposta B a lesson in how not 2 answer the fone, eh?

Well, l8 yesterday, the squat got raided! Zenia is convinced that "the guy w/the phallic nose and ridiculous ponytail across the street dropped the dime on us." Cd B. Weed is awfully worried abt property values. NEway, I called Jeremy from the jail and his Mom was so cube abt bailing me out. Dunc insisted on staying cuz "street cred," Eva refused 2 leave his side, and Zenia sed she had 2 stay cuz of her secret "exposé" she's writing.

So, I M back @ Jeremy's and he's trying 2 talk me outta being further involved in what Dunc's got going in TO.


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  • At 9:19 AM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    april, yeah, it wuz kinda weird gettin’ u outa jail. i just got back & my mom wuz on the phone sayin’, “no. jeremy’s not here right now. wanna talk 2 his step-sister?” & she wuz like, “university wuz gr8 in my 1st year. & i am so glad i gotta new bf. i call him cookie, num-num” & then she sed, “whoevah iz on this phone said, ‘*!!{saturn}@*’ @ me!” & i walked in frum my trip & sed, “who iz it?” & she sed, “oh, she sez she’s ur gf & she sez she’s like in jail.” so neway, thass wen i took the phone outa her handz & she wuzn’t 2 happ ‘bout it.

    i wuz kinda surprized u spent the week tryin’ 2 help duncan frum squeegie-land. i figgered u woulda been @the vet clinic on ur new job all week. ur answer that u were tryin’ 2 avoid wastin’ 6 x 30 seconds a day talkin’ ‘bout ur bro wen he wuz little wuz not the answer i wuz xxpectin’. but if i were in the same sitch, mebbe i woulda tried 2 help duncan 2 keep frum wastin’ all that tyme on a story no1 carez ‘bout.

  • At 9:29 AM, Blogger howard said…


    Your brother’s story was very interesting. I could swear I called your house trying to get you this week, and got a very similar response from your mother and father, as the caller did to your brother and sister back in 1979.

    Your dad picked up the phone and said, “Hello?” And I said, “May I speak to April?” And he said, “No, she’s outside right now. --- Wanna talk to my wife, Elly? Most people who call here do.” And I said, “No I am calling for April.” But he handed the phone over to your mother anyway. Your mother was apparently in one of her eating frenzies because she said, “Glah? Da-da-da? COOKIE! Num-num!” She can certainly regress conversationally when she is in the middle of eating. However, I have viewed her eating before, so this change was not too surprising.

    After asking your mother several times to speak to you, I lost my temper and said a few bad words. That got her attention. Then your father took over the phone again and I said, “I want to speak to April, not Elly!” And he said, “Yeah? You still wanna talk to her? OK—“ Then he yelled, “April!” into the phone. After that he said, “I don’t think she’s here, and I need to go back to playing with my trains.” And he hung up the phone. Needless to say, trying to talk to you on your Blog is easier than calling your house.

    Howard Bunt

  • At 9:55 AM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    jeremy, i shda xxplained that the vet clinic told me i wasn't needed yet. one of the reasons i got the job was that the person who used 2 have it is getting divorced and was planning 2 move back 2 alberta. last wk was her last wk b4 her move.

    howard, omg, sorry abt my 'rents b-ing such freaks. u can call me on my cell if u need me. or if it's more urgent, jeremy an' i can come over. we're @ his house.


  • At 3:58 PM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    april, sorry i got confused ‘bout the job thing. all i rilly paid attention 2 wuz i wuzn’t gonna get 2b ‘round u last week, i guess. i gotta say the jail thing wuzn’t all bad. i mean when u suggested we try wut the lady in jail suggested u do, i wuz rilly surprized it didn’t hurt. i thought if you kinda sat on that part of me w/all ur w8, i wud have a hard tyme breathin’; but it wuz rilly comfy & i cud breathe gr8. u seemed 2 like it a lot 2, especially the part where u kept sayin’, “i’m april patterson, ur jailer, & u only get free if u…” well u know, do that thing u like where i go “num-num!” & then u go “glah! da-da-da!!” if u know wut i mean.

  • At 4:50 PM, OpenID dreadedcandiru2 said…

    It bothers me that talking about a phone call from that long ago is such a big deal with your family. You'd think it would have blown over but, since your parents are the Foobs of myth and legend, it never will.

  • At 5:46 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…


    Well, Amazon River catfish, you are bothered by odd things. Personally, I have never found the events from my life from 1979-80 to be that important until this year. For some reason, this year, of all years, seems to be the retro 1979-80 year. The things that occurred during that time, particular those exhibiting my precocious behaviour (like today’s exciting discussion about that phone call) which would lead to my best-selling author status of my very first 2 novels both selling like hotcakes with good Canadian maple syrup on them; and stories involving my father’s unusual parenting and husbanding behaviours during that time; have been the topics of conversation not only on April’s Real Blog, but everywhere in Milborough.

    It’s been a good year to be a Patterson, and all the signs are that Elizabeth (I will run away from any serious boyfriend who shows any interest in me) Patterson will be married before the year is out. If only April were a little older, she could be married too, and life would be perfect. Alas, we have some years to go before April graduates from vet school, takes a job and home in Milborough, marries Gerald Delaney-Forsythe and starts making more children for my mother to take care of. When that happens, then my parents will be truly the stuff of myth and legend. As it is, they are simply amazing. However, I take comfort in the fact that even in the Amazon River catfish world, you are aware of the goings-on in my family.

    Michael Patterson

  • At 6:03 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…


    jeremy, i m glad u enjoyed that!


  • At 1:08 AM, Anonymous michael patterson said…


    Formerly little sis. Just the other day, I had wondered why it is that Josef Weeder is my best friend instead of Lawrence Poirier, since Lawrence and I grew up together. It's not the reason that everyone suspects, i.e. Lawrence picked Nicholas Browne over me. (I get very tired of explaining that this is not the reason.) Actually, it started at a very early age.

    I remember one time when I was sitting on my front stoop outdoors with Lawrence. I was very distressed over something that had happened with my mother. I said, "All I have to do is LOOK at my mom and she gets mad!" I thought this sterling description was sufficient to get Lawrence's sympathy. After all, his mother was Connie Poirier, and who wants to look at her seven shades of ugly? But no! Lawrence didn't believe me. He said, "Honest, Mike? You were just lookin' at her?" I was shocked that Lawrence did not trust me. I think this was the first time I realized that Lawrence and I would not agree on everything, like Josef and I do.

    So, to better describe my case to Lawrence, I added, "Yeah. She was in the bath at the time." I thought this would put it over with Lawrence, but instead he looked at me and started mumbling something about how he would do whatever it took to avoid seeing Elly Patterson naked."

    When I told the same story to Josef Weeder, his response was very different from Lawrence's. He talked about how he often snuck into his mother's washroom when she was taking a bath, to look at her. That's one of the things about Josef and me. Our experiences are so similar, I often feel like we are the same person broken apart only by our different choices in career.

    Michael Patterson


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