Read Online Calamity Jayne Rides Again by Kathleen Bacus - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathleen Bacus
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reading the latest copy of People and the article "What Were They Thinking?" that featured the worst dresses worn to the Emmy Awards (female category) and
wondering how Oprah continued to keep the weight off for this long when I caught a whiff of something good and greasy.
"You like egg roll? Nice and hot. Fresh from cooker. No peanut oil. Veggie oil."
I looked up and recognized the short, slight, Oriental gentleman from Li's Asian Express booth, which was located down by
the john. He waved a small cardboard container of egg rolls in my face. "Hot and fresh. No gristle. You take. Eat."
I smiled and started to shake my head, and then realized that, despite the donuts, hot dog, root beer float, and chocolate
chip cookie ice cream sandwich I'd consumed, I was still hungry. And this little guy knew it.
The egg rolls passed by my nose again and Mr. Asian Express smiled, displaying two missing teeth. "Going once. Going twice,"
he said. "G—!" I grabbed an egg roll in midair and gobbled half of it before he could say "Egg roll gone." Grease dribbled
from the corner of my mouth and I dabbed at it with a napkin. Mmmm. Good egg roll.
"You like," he said; not a question, but an affirmation. "You like."
"I like," I managed through the cabbage and pork in my mouth. "I like a lot. Thanks. You in the mood for a root beer?" I offered.
Comping was a way of life for fair concessionaires. We all sampled each other's wares free of charge. I just sampled more,
uh, robustly than most. "Root beer?" I asked again and picked up a tall foam cup and jiggled it. "Nice and cold. No peanut
oil," I added.
He laughed but shook his head. "Flat," he said, and I blinked.
"Egg roll today. Tomorrow crab rangoon. Full of crab. Lots of cream cheese. Hot and good."
I could feel my mouth watering already. Stop it, Tressa, I scolded myself. At the rate I was eating, they'd need a rendering
truck to haul my carcass out of the campground in two weeks.
"That's okay, Mr. Li," I said. "I'm on a diet."
He slapped the counter and gave a long laugh. "Diet. Good one," he said. "You like working fair, serving the customers the
ice cream from tiny shack?" he asked out of the blue. My brain struggled to process the quick subject change.
I shrugged. "Sure. Yeah. Why not? I love the fair."
"And Uncle Frank? He love fair? Like to sell the ice cream?"
I scratched my forehead. I wasn't sure if Uncle Frank loved the fair or not. I'd never thought to ask. For that matter, I
had no clue if he enjoyed his job, period. In a family business, one didn't always have a say in their career track. I thought
about that for a second and felt my brow crinkle. I'd never even considered whether Uncle Frank felt fulfilled at what he
did for a living or if he liked his work. Heck, who likes work? Now I had to wonder if Uncle Frank had been given any choice
in the matter and, if not, how that factored into the father/son dynamic currently playing out.
"Uncle Frank's not one to share his innermost thoughts," I said. "But I guess if he didn't like the fair and the ice cream
business, he'd sell."
Mr. Li's eyes grew big. "Uncle Frank sell? No more Dairee Freeze? No more hot dog? No more takey business? I buy! I buy! Be
on main drag! No more smell of toilet. No customer hold noses in line. I buy! I buy!"
I winced and shook my head. Geez, the little guy was jiggling up and down like I did after I'd polished off two large gulps
of diet cola from the Get'n'Go.
I stood. "I didn't say Uncle Frank was selling, Mr. Li. I said if he wasn't happy, he would probably sell. As far as I know,
he's content with his business." If not with his only child.
"I buy! I make good offer. I pay! I give egg rolls and crab rangoon for life!"
My eyes widened. "Lo mein, too?" I heard myself saying.
Mr. Li laughed, and a torrent of speech in an unrecognizable dialect poured out. He pumped my hand and jogged away, his short,
skinny legs barely touching the ground.
I frowned. I
wondering how Oprah continued to keep the weight off for this long when I caught a whiff of something good and greasy.
"You like egg roll? Nice and hot. Fresh from cooker. No peanut oil. Veggie oil."
I looked up and recognized the short, slight, Oriental gentleman from Li's Asian Express booth, which was located down by
the john. He waved a small cardboard container of egg rolls in my face. "Hot and fresh. No gristle. You take. Eat."
I smiled and started to shake my head, and then realized that, despite the donuts, hot dog, root beer float, and chocolate
chip cookie ice cream sandwich I'd consumed, I was still hungry. And this little guy knew it.
The egg rolls passed by my nose again and Mr. Asian Express smiled, displaying two missing teeth. "Going once. Going twice,"
he said. "G—!" I grabbed an egg roll in midair and gobbled half of it before he could say "Egg roll gone." Grease dribbled
from the corner of my mouth and I dabbed at it with a napkin. Mmmm. Good egg roll.
"You like," he said; not a question, but an affirmation. "You like."
"I like," I managed through the cabbage and pork in my mouth. "I like a lot. Thanks. You in the mood for a root beer?" I offered.
Comping was a way of life for fair concessionaires. We all sampled each other's wares free of charge. I just sampled more,
uh, robustly than most. "Root beer?" I asked again and picked up a tall foam cup and jiggled it. "Nice and cold. No peanut
oil," I added.
He laughed but shook his head. "Flat," he said, and I blinked.
"Egg roll today. Tomorrow crab rangoon. Full of crab. Lots of cream cheese. Hot and good."
I could feel my mouth watering already. Stop it, Tressa, I scolded myself. At the rate I was eating, they'd need a rendering
truck to haul my carcass out of the campground in two weeks.
"That's okay, Mr. Li," I said. "I'm on a diet."
He slapped the counter and gave a long laugh. "Diet. Good one," he said. "You like working fair, serving the customers the
ice cream from tiny shack?" he asked out of the blue. My brain struggled to process the quick subject change.
I shrugged. "Sure. Yeah. Why not? I love the fair."
"And Uncle Frank? He love fair? Like to sell the ice cream?"
I scratched my forehead. I wasn't sure if Uncle Frank loved the fair or not. I'd never thought to ask. For that matter, I
had no clue if he enjoyed his job, period. In a family business, one didn't always have a say in their career track. I thought
about that for a second and felt my brow crinkle. I'd never even considered whether Uncle Frank felt fulfilled at what he
did for a living or if he liked his work. Heck, who likes work? Now I had to wonder if Uncle Frank had been given any choice
in the matter and, if not, how that factored into the father/son dynamic currently playing out.
"Uncle Frank's not one to share his innermost thoughts," I said. "But I guess if he didn't like the fair and the ice cream
business, he'd sell."
Mr. Li's eyes grew big. "Uncle Frank sell? No more Dairee Freeze? No more hot dog? No more takey business? I buy! I buy! Be
on main drag! No more smell of toilet. No customer hold noses in line. I buy! I buy!"
I winced and shook my head. Geez, the little guy was jiggling up and down like I did after I'd polished off two large gulps
of diet cola from the Get'n'Go.
I stood. "I didn't say Uncle Frank was selling, Mr. Li. I said if he wasn't happy, he would probably sell. As far as I know,
he's content with his business." If not with his only child.
"I buy! I make good offer. I pay! I give egg rolls and crab rangoon for life!"
My eyes widened. "Lo mein, too?" I heard myself saying.
Mr. Li laughed, and a torrent of speech in an unrecognizable dialect poured out. He pumped my hand and jogged away, his short,
skinny legs barely touching the ground.
I frowned. I
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