High Drama! Mosquito Trucks! Resplendent Italian Cousins! With A 1,000 Elephants!

[elsajeni]

Tonight, my parents and I decided to go on a walk. Was this wise? Well, you decide. We live in Houston, it's summer and therefore Mosquitofest 2005, and it was after dark when we set out.

In other words, no. Not at all. Because do you know what happens after dark in summer?

The mosquito truck comes out.

It has flashing lights. It makes a loud buzzing noise. And it spews out clouds upon clouds of poison death gas to destroy the mosquitos.

So here we are, my parents and I, walking casually along and listening to my dad tell a pointless story about his first wife's cousin Salvatore, when...


The Saga Of The Mosquito Truck And My Dad's First Wife's Cousin Salvatore, The Symphony In White*

MY DAD: So, the next time I saw Salvatore, you would not believe it. He was in a white, on white, on white, Thunderbird -- white seats, white paint, whitewall tires, everything that could be white was white -- and Salvatore was decked out head to toe in white, and he had a girl with him who was blonde, which I guess was as close as he could get to white, and...

THE MOSQUITO TRUCK: *crosses the street a block ahead of us*

MY MOM: Uh-oh.

ME: Well, it went that way.

MY DAD: That probably means it's going to turn around and go down our street next.

ME: Oh, whatever. Go back to the Thunderbird, it sounds awesome.

MY DAD: So I said, "Salvatore! Holy cow! You look resplendent! You're a symphony in white!"

THE MOSQUITO TRUCK: *lurks menacingly at a corner half a block ahead of us*

ME: *points at mosquito truck, screams theatrically*

MY MOM: ... Let's just hurry home.

MY PARENTS AND I: *turn the corner onto our street*

THE MOSQUITO TRUCK: *turns the corner onto our street, a block behind us, and starts buzzing and spewing poison death gas*

ME: ... Flee?

MY MOM: Um, let's jog.

MY PARENTS AND I: *pick up the pace to a jog*

MY DAD: *panting* So he told me... he had his own place now... garage, body shop, the works...

ME: I'm impressed that you're so undaunted in telling your pointless story.

MY MOM: Be nice.

THE MOSQUITO TRUCK: *buzzes louder*

ME: I think it's gaining on us.

MY DAD: It's a truck, of course it's gaining on us.

THE MOSQUITO TRUCK: *buzzes even louder*

OUR HOUSE: *is still really far away*

MY PARENTS AND I: *pick up the pace to a flat-out run*

THE MOSQUITO TRUCK: *suddenly stops buzzing*

MY DAD: ... It stopped! *stops running*

MY MOM: Keep running. *keeps running*

MY DAD AND I: *keep running, but refuse to look happy about it*

OUR HOUSE: *is comfortingly close now*

MOSQUITO TRUCK: *turns down a side street anyway*

MY PARENTS AND I: *go back to sort of ambling*

ME: Well, I for one think that was hilarious.

MY DAD: So the next time I saw Salvatore, at his sister's wedding, I think her name was Mary Frances...




*Note: all excerpts from the story "My Dad's First Wife's Cousin Salvatore, The Symphony In White" are as close to verbatim as possible without having jotted things down on a notepad, which I did not do on account of being busy fleeing.

Comments

[oruhamiko.livejournal.com]

Hee! And, also: Hee!

I like your dad's sense of humor. Also, when were you walking? The mosquito trucks around here usually don't come until midnight or later. Usually later.

[quincunx.livejournal.com]

I have never heard of these "mosquito trucks." Must be a southern phenomenon. It reads kind of like you're running from the Secret Police, only the Secret Police buzz, emit poison gas, and are in a truck.

[nojh.livejournal.com]

Well its the secret police for mosquitos. Soon they'll move up to mammals and birds.. then.. well who knows?

[nojh.livejournal.com]

That was a great story.