Frankenstory Friday: Matt and Mike’s House

This is my last Frankenstory for a while . . . mostly because I’ve run out of stories to tell. Don’t worry, though . . . I’ll tell more Frankenstories as they present themselves!

(For you first-timers who are unfamiliar with Frank, I’ll go ahead and preface this story by mentioning that my father is VERY hard of hearing. If you’d like some more examples of how this has affected me and my family, go to the Frankenstory page.)

When I was in high school, I worked at our neighborhood video store. (Between 1986 and 1990, there was no such thing as Blockbuster yet.) Everyone knew me as “video girl.”

This type of low-level popularity came with a few advantages. Back then, many of the food joints were still mom and pop places, and if the owners or employees recognized me, I got a discount. (Mostly because I waived their late fees.) And sometimes, I got food for free.

Over the course of a year, I’d gotten to know the folks at our Mountain Mike’s Pizza pretty well. The owners at the time really liked me, and wanted me to “leave that video shack” to work for them. I almost did, too, because I had a HUGE crush on one of the guys that worked there. 

One evening, I got a call at the video store from my crush. He wanted me to meet him at the pizza place to hang out with him and some of his friends. I was SOO stoked!

So, I called my house to let my parents know that I was going to be home late.

And, as luck would have it, my dad answered the phone.

“Dad. I’m not coming right home after work.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to Mountain Mike’s. I should be home by eleven.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t forget to tell mom.”

“Yep.”

And I was off.

When I got home, my mom was waiting up for me.

“Where were you at?,” she asked.

“At Mountain Mike’s . . . didn’t Dad tell you?”

Then she smiled and began to laugh. Hard.

“When I got home from Bunco tonight, your Dad told me where you were, but I had to do some translating.”

“Translating?”

“Do you know anyone named Matt?”

“No. Why?”

“Because your Dad told me you were at Matt and Mike’s house.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what I said. Then I started to say it over and over in my head . . . Matt and Mike’s. Matt and Mike’s. Then it came to me. And I went back into the front room and told him, ‘She’s not at Matt and Mike’s house! She’s at Mountain Mike’s Pizza!”

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10

04 2008

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  1. 1

    I found your blog on google and read a few of your other posts. I just added you to my Google News Reader. Keep up the good work. Look forward to reading more from you in the future.

    Stacey Derbinshire

  2. 2

    LOL! That’s funny stuff… Matt and Mikes…



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