Drugged on a cocktail of Nyquil and spring pollen, I was rousted from my coma by growling and barking. Was our porch furniture being stolen again? Unable to focus beyond the end of the couch, I uprighted myself and peeped out the window into stark sunlight. There on my front porch, waving a silly half-wave, stood Eb from Green Acres. And parked on the street in front of my house, Mr. Haney’s truck.
Had I been transported to Hooterville?
By the time I realized Eb was atraveling meat man, it was too late to hide. I slowly opened the door to emphasize the severity of my condition,but cautiously left the screen shut.
Like a skilled auctioneer, he spewed forth his spielthrough the screen door and into my dilated pupils. My tongue was thick. Were my teeth green? I walked outonto the porch to shoo him away, leaving Lucy and Annabelle snarling inside. Maybein the harsh light, pale and zombielike, I would successfully scare him away.
“I don’t want to buy anything. I’m contagious,” I moaned.
“Just today I can give you 25% off.” Like a magician, hewhipped out a three-fold pamphlet likely detailing the foodstuff he waspeddling had I been able to see. Did he pull that thing from behind myear? “I’ve got shrimp and chicken andsteak and even vegetables.”
“Must.Lie.Down…,” I mumbled weakly. With those words he jumpedfrom the porch like a jackrabbit and raced toward his truck. Thank goodness, he was leaving.
I turned to shut the door, barely maintaining my balance, but ina flash he reappeared with a magic box of Angus beef. “I can sell you this entire case for only$150.00. It’s just twelve days off the hoof!” He crowed.
“Ewwwwww! Off the hoof?” Did I hear him correctly? “What? No! Wewouldn’t eat a case of anything in two years!”
“1,2,3,4,5,6…” he quickly starting counting and spreading variouscuts of beef all over the floor of my porch. Today’s dead cow is brought to you by the letter “C” and by the number25! My head was spinning. I thoughtI might faint.
“Oh my God NO! I’m NOT paying$150.00 for meat from your truck. You need to leave. NOW.”
“Harry Gibson buys our meat,” he beamed and pointed down the street to our neighbor’s house.
“Good for Harry Gibson! Go sell him this meat and get it off myporch.”
“So how much could youpay?” he asked. What!? Was I buying aChevy now? Was it really possible to make easy monthly payments on a side of beef?
“Nothing. ZERO. I don’t have any room in my freezer.” This was avery true statement. It was small and unorganized.I had drawers of frozen pecans from our farm in Arkansas, and the other shelves were filled with frozen lasagne and ice cream. “Really, my freezer is full.”
My energy waned.
As the room spun, he teleported into my kitchen! I had no idea how he popped inside my house. WhenEb tried to kill me, would anyone hear me scream? Or would he simply steal all my frozen pizzas bought from a real grocery store and peddle my food in his clowntruck?
Lucy was having a fit trying to protect her delusional mistress. Annabellewas now best friends with Eb.
By the time I staggered into the kitchen, Eb had rearranged twoshelves in my freezer, filling it with stacks of individually shrink-wrappedunmarked hunks of beef. “Where are mypepperoni pizzas?”
“I moved the pizzas down here and put your frozen corn and brusselsprouts here. I made room for a wholecase of New York Strips, but there’s no room for this ice cream.” He pointed to my half-empty half gallon ofHomemade Vanilla Blue Bell relegated to the side counter near the coffeepot. Itwas melting…
“What? No! I’m not buying a case of meat. We would never in a millionyears eat that much meat. I’m practically a vegetarian anyway. Put my ice creamback!” By this time I thought I might pass out. “I’m sick. You need to leave.” Iwas about to cry, and I don’t cry.
“What about lobster?” Hewas wearing me down, and he sensed it.
“If I buy something will you please leave?”
The next morning I felt much better even with my Nyquilhangover. After a dreamless sleep, Istood under the hot shower, somewhat revived. As the cobwebs began to clear frommy head, the prior days’ events came into focus… Was my Eb nightmare real?
“When you go downstairs to get the newspaper,” I mentioned to John, “you should probably check the freezer. I might haveaccidentally bought some steaks yesterday.”
“Accidentally?” Hestopped, turned, looked at me, and I knew exactlywhat he was thinking—you are turninginto your mother.
Sure enough, I had bought 8 steaks—4 tenderloinand 4 New York Strips. According to my checkbook, they cost $75. I spent $75 to make Ebleave my house.
“Oh but John,” I added, “the meat is only twelve days off the hoof.”
talya
Musical Pairing:
Mack the Knife, Bobby Darin
Off the hoof – Great line
Descriptive, isn’t it?
Hilarious!
I want to meet Eb…those are the type of people that have so much energy I wonder, “Where do they get their energy?” I like to be a social butterfly myself but I think Eb is the compares to the best pitchman on an infomercial. The only difference is he is at your door, and has that face-to-face contact. So I must fly for now. Birds of a feather flock together I think Eb and I could make a good partnership! The carrier pigeon.
What I wonder is did he make room for the ice cream? Love it!
Yes! I made him remove the case of beef and return my ice cream. Then there was plenty of room for the $75 I bought plus my freezer was organized:))
Is this a “repeat”? I could have sworn I read this before today…
Gary, I thought I had already posted this story either on my blog or on my short story site. Couldn’t find it on either! It’s actually an excerpt from the book I’m writing so I cut and pasted and re-blogged(?) it…. A mystery. But good to know I’m not completely crazy.
I remember a slightly different blog or short story from a previous post but it was just as funny the second time around.
We had a traveling meat salesman come to the airstrip a few years ago. He was very persistant even though I told him I had no interest in buying the variety pack-everything from filets to hamburger patties. He spread his shrink-wrapped goods on the floor of the airstrip office. This alone was very annoying because his diplay took up all the floor space. Of course, we had a farmer come in to have some spraying done. He had to stand in the doorway. The pesky meat pusher finally left when the farmer and I agreed to puchase and split the variety pack. Beware the Ides of March and the Mobile Meat Man!
Spreading those packages on the floor must be their angle!
Hi, I laughed until I almost …. tmi Anyway so funny. Glad you er got rid of him sort of? And the perk? you got your freezer organized. LOL Really enjoy your writing and sense of humor.
Haha thank you Mary!! Yes! Freezer organized:)) winner winner.
haha…hilarious!!! Well, Dallas has Eb while Nashville has Eb’s grandpa, I suppose. Eb sounds like the same type of guy who sold me around $75 bucks worth of meat a year and half ago, and I have to admit, it was the worst meat I’ve ever tried to eat in my life. He did the ‘ground beef’ display on me, too. I hope your meat is a billion times better than the shoe leather described as ’12 days of the hoof.’ Now, I don’t know if ‘hoof’ is a train, boat, or some other mode of transportation from some foreign country because this meat was far from fresh…just sayin’=)
Funny, funny, and glad that Eb is out of your hair and the freezer all in order! A wonderful story!!
Go to the Schwan’s man–he’s not nearly so/as obnoxious. Funny, funny!
Hysterically funny!
All I can think is, “Thank goodness he didn’t steal anything!” Of course, he sort of did. It’s funny, but Eb is also one of the reasons I rarely open the door when the bell rings.