That was the note from a client written on the inside cover of the funny as well as tender memoir, The World’s Largest Man, by Harrison Scott Key. Turns out, some parts of growing up in Mississippi aren’t that much different from any town USA. In one excerpt Key writes about how his father would read the telephone bill like some Old Testament scholar with a gift for high blood pressure.
“Who called 734-908-4560?” he would say. “Who is that?”
“Who knows?” Mom would say.
“Somebody knows! And I aim to find out!”
“Why does everything have to be a conspiracy?” Mom said.
“Where the hell is 734? He said. “Sounds Canadian.”
“What about that number sounds Canadian?” Mom said.
“Who in this family thinks we can afford to talk to Canada? This ain’t the League of Nations here! Where the boys at? Go get the boys.”
“We’re right here,” we said. “We’ve been sitting here the whole time.”
“Godalmighty, boys, which one a you is calling Alaska here.”
“I thought it was Canada,” I said.
“How expensive of a call was it?” Mom said.
“A dollar fifteen,” he said, his face expanding, reddening, his heart preparing to outgrow the Saskatchewan province and explode.
Originally posted on Yoursurvivalguy.com.
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