The Life of Me
Part 2 - Pet Peeves and Spelling Bees
I know this will probably sound really... picky... but it's my pet peeve so I don't care how it sounds.
Before I get rantin’... I mean, started, I'll give you the lay out of things so nobody gets lost. First of all, this story is absolutely true. None of the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Fuck’em - they've never done anything for me anyway. Since it's a true story, I'll need to explain things as I go along because I'll be using local colloquialisms that none of you will understand. Hell, I don't really understand the why's and how's of some of them, and I grew up there. These colloquialisms will be pointed out thusly: I will type a sentence such as, 'And my cousin said, "Youins guys gots to come up behint the geerage'n see this fuckin buck I just gut!" and then I will clarify this sentence by typing it in English as, **Excuse me, dearest family members! Please, may I have the extreme honor and pleasure of your company at the aft of the garage? It seems as though I've bagged myself a trophy deer!** I'll also use "**" to explain things that I feel you may need explained.
My biggest pet peeve is people that make up their own spellings for things to try and be clever. I'm not talking about being goofy in a chat room and spelling things out in 1337 $p3ak, or using 'stoopid' in place of 'stupid' just to make a point. No, I'm talking about BUSINESSES using a 'K' instead of a 'C', and other really annoying things like that.
And of course I have an example.
In the town next to the one where I grew up, there lived a confectionery shop with the clever title of, "Kountry Kettle". Kountry Kettle specializes in "Kettle Kooked Fudge." It's right on the big sign right next to the highway. Now, no matter how hard I've tried to get my brain to substitute, "cooked" for "kooked", it just won't cooperate. But it gets worse, yes indeed it does. They also advertised, "Home of Franklin County's best Do-Nuts." What the bleeding fuck is a "DO-NUT"?! I came to the conclusion, just because I needed closure on this, that a "Do-Nut" was the opposite of a, "Don't-Nut."
I vowed NEVER to patronize their establishment. My reasoning being, if they've gone through the trouble of starting their own business, but are stupid enough to PAY someone to put "Kettle Kooked Fudge" and "Do-Nuts" on the most prominent sign on that stretch of highway, how the fuck do they expect me to trust them to follow a recipe? I think not. For three long years, I cringed every time I was forced to drive by that place. It was like a train wreck... so horrible that you dare not look away.
Apparently, Kountry Kettle had some bad ass fudge. They enjoyed a thriving business, as well as getting some orders from some local hotels for regular deliveries. According to the skank that took up residence at my father’s house, **my stepmother**, they had the “bestest stuff ANYWHERE!” Excellent. Thanks for sharing. This coming from a woman who sits in front of the TV getting all excited when her favorite host comes on the Home Shopping Network. You always knew when it was on, too. Shit would be all quiet and my father and I would be in the kitchen having a semi-intelligent conversation without her butting her nose in...**My brother, cousins, myself, and anybody else we felt like letting in on this called her, "Beaker." She couldn't drink a cup of coffee without dipping her nose in it. Fucker was HUGE, I tell ya.** Suddenly the blissful silence would be shattered by the squealing of, "LURRA! GIMME MAH POKKABOOK OFF THE TABLE'AN BRING IT IN HERE! I NEED M' CREDIT CARD!" **Larry! Bring my pocket book (purse) in here. It's on the table. I need my credit card.** (I'm sure in her mind, that would have been spelled, "kredit kard".
My brother, sister-in-law, and myself have had very serious discussions on WHY my father hooked up with this thing to begin with. We have come to the unequivocal conclusion that it's because she has false teeth and always takes them out before she goes to bed. You do the math.
If you took notice, a few paragraphs ago I said, "For three years I was forced to drive by that sign." Well, after three years, Ye Ole Kettle Kookery announced that it was going out of business. I actually giggled. And then... I turned my car around and pulled into the parking lot. I sat there for a few minutes, not really knowing why I had done that. I further mystified myself by getting out of the car and going into the shop. There was a quaint little bell that jingled merrily as I let myself in. Mrs. Kooked came out from the back room and glared at me. I wondered if they were closed or something but I didn't see a sign on the door. In that very instant, I knew my purpose for going into that store. I was going to make her pay for me having to read about Kooked Fudge and Do-Nuts... Oh, yes!
The conversation is as close as I can remember.
Me (cheery): "Hi!"
Mrs. Kooked: "Ken I hep ya?" **May I help you?**
Me (smiling): "Yes, thank you. I'd like a pound of Kooky fudge, please."
MK: "Whu?" **Excuse me?**
Me: "A pound of Kooky fudge, please?"
MK (looking around for an interpreter or something): "Idun getcha." **I'm terribly sorry but I am having difficulty understanding what you need. You see, I'm a complete fucktard so you need to address me as if you were attempting to explain quantum physics to a Mongoloid. Please, may we try again?**
Me (doing a damn fine acting job by looking suitably confused): "Kooky fudge?" (I turn and look out the window at the sign for emphasis) "It says on your sign that you sell Kooked fudge."
MK (looking at me like I'm the biggest retard she's ever had the misfortune of sharing the same air with): "Uh.. NO... that's COOKED fudge!" (Rolls her eyes for good measure.)
Me (needing a fucking Oscar for this performance): "Oh... well, where I come from, 'K-O-O-K' does not spell 'cook'. It spells 'kook'.
MK (slack jawed… normal for her, I suppose): "Uh... no... 'k-o-o-k' means 'cook'.
Me (looking like the light bulb just went on): "Ohhhhh! Okay! Well, in that case, I'll just have a Do-Nut."
MK (getting red in the face): "Lookahere, I dunno whut yer tryin to pull here..." (leaves the sentence open, giving me the chance to explain my stupid self. She's good.) ** See here! I'm not entirely certain if you are pulling my leg or not. I'm not really comfortable with the direction in which this conversation is going!**
Me (raising my voice just a little and feigning upset): "You know, 'Do-Nuts'... like what it says on your sign there?"
MK (makes a noise, using both her nose and mouth... kind of like she was farting out of her face): "THAT says, 'doughnut.'"
Me (eyes opening wide): "The hell you say!"
MK (eyes narrowing because I THINK she's getting the distinct impression that she's being fucked with): "Jeezus..." **invoking the name of our Lord and Savior**
Me (using an imperialistic tone): "No, I'm sure He wouldn't want your Kooky fudge or your Do-Nuts, either!" (I execute a flawless about-face and glide dramatically out the door)
They closed their doors for good about a month later. I cried. Not.
by
Eos
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What is this, 1967?
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