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An Excerpt from Calamity Jayne Rides Again
I made my way to the mini-freeze via the ‘Guess Your Weight or Age’ booth. I wanted to check out how much weight I’d gained since last year. Sorry folks. That info is not for public dissemination. I stopped by Tony’s Taffy to say howdy do. Of course, I had to sample each of the flavors and try this year’s new flavor, French Vanilla cappuccino. A big, but sticky, thumbs up! I grabbed a corn dog from Carl, lemonade from Louie, and a caramel apple from Ada. By the time I got to Uncle Frank’s, I was ready for the antacid stand.I frowned when I saw the long line snaking its way down the sidewalk outside the mini-freeze. What was Frankfurter doing, anyway, the little wiener? The line was longer than the one at the beer tent on fifty cent draw night.
I hustled to the back of the tiny, white square building about the size of a one-half car garage, jerked the door open, and stepped inside.
“What the heck is going on, Frankie?” I asked the figure in the white cotton, his back to me. “You’ve got customers lined up from here to the pretzel place next door. What’s the deal?”
“I owe you an apology, Calamity,” a tall figure in white struggling to construct something that resembled an ice cream cone, said. “These damned curly que’s are not as easy to make as I thought.”
I took a step back. My jaw did a trap-door motion. I gasped as the man in white turned and slapped a soggy, misshapen cone in my hand.
“I quit.”
I looked up from the drippy mess oozing down my wrist to the kaleidoscope of color splashed across the front of the white apron across from me.
“Ranger Rick?” I stared at the gooey, ice-cream covered man. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m splitting this pop shack,” he said, pulling off his apron. “And pronto.”
I shook my head trying to process the picture of the tall, dark, and deadly handsome ranger splitting bananas and drizzling nuts.
“You look good in confections,” was all I could think to say.
“Hell,” he managed.
“What are you doing here?” I asked again. “Where’s Frankie?”
“How should I know? I came over to get a damned dip cone and the place was unlocked, open for business, but empty as that greasy egg roll stand across the way. I figured Frankie stepped out to use the john, but I’ve been manning the order window for two freaking hours!” The ranger threw the apron on the counter. “I’m outta here.”
“Hey! What? Where are you going?”
“Back to the comfortable and familiar world of reptiles, raptors, and rangers. And as far as I’m concerned, if I never see another freaking ice cream cone, it will be okay by me.” He headed toward the exit.
“Hey, Mr. Ranger, sir!” I yelled. “You forgot your dip cone!” I giggled a bit and then caught a look at the line of angry customers with facial expressions reminiscent of a group of disappointed sports fans about to tip something over. Or democrats after the 2004 presidential election. I sobered.
Where the devil was that Oscar Meyer, anyway?
