An Old Mostly-True Story
"Ula, wake up! I think I see something on the road ahead..." said Sven, who was riding shotgun this leg of the trip.
"What is it, Sven?" replied Ula, sleepily awakening behind the wheel of the car as Sven steered steered one-handed from the passenger seat, binoculars to his eyes. "What do you see?"
"It's still a long ways away Ula, but it could be a deer, eh. Take the wheel, eh? I want to hold the binoculars with both hands. Ula resumed steering and slowed the car down.
"What is it Sven? I can barely make it out, Ula said, the sleep not yet out of his eyes. "Is it a deer?"
"No Ula, ... Sven slowly replied. "But it looks ... mighty strange ... to me. You look. I'll steer."
And once again, Ula let go of the steering wheel to use Sven's binoculars as Sven steered one-handed from the passenger seat.
"GOOD GRIEF! SVEN!" Ula shouted. "YOU AIN'T GOIN' TO BELIEVE THIS!"
"What is it Ula? Sven hollered back. "WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE??"
"AN OSTRICH!" Ula said, not believing his own eyes
"Bollocks! Ula," fumed Sven, not believing Ula's eyes either. "An ostrich?? Take the wheel! Have you been secretly drinking?
"But wait ,... Oofdah, Ula! IT IS AN OSTRICH!
"SPEED UP!
"NO, SLOW DOWN!
"Let me get my camera out!"
"Fee fon! Sven, you sound just like Inga, "Speed up! Slow down!"
Sven dug through his backpack at his feet, trying to get his digital camera into play as the gigantic quail look-a-like ran off the road and into a ditch ahead of the car as Ula braked hard, then steered expertly out of a full slide on the wet gravel road, then straightened it out just parallel to the ditch.
The huge bird waded into a waist-high soybean field, its head, neck and useless wings clearly visible above the green leafy plants as it ran for a cornfield adjoining the beans.
Ula's son, Oskar, awoke with a start in the backseat, as the car's tires cut four broad dark gashes in the face of the road evident to Ula's driving expertise and Sven's indecision, Oskar could only gasp out,
"It's ... an ... emu? Dad! It's an emu!"
"Go back to sleep Oskar! That's no stinkin' emu! It's a fokken ostrich!"
Ula sent me a text this morning with the following corrections: “Ya dere vas an emu but not at Ada. Ada vas da two stuffed polar bears hanging from da clothesline.
ReplyDeleteDa emu vas in da hills of southern Minnesota. Dere vas a burro too.
Sven needs to get one of dem Old Timers tests, ya.”
Yah shure, vat effer you say Ula. Vat effer you say.
ReplyDeleteWhen Sven and Ula show up, I'm at a loss for words. Their encounters remind me of what a good choice CJ made when he moved to Roseau.
ReplyDeleteI am blessed
DeleteNext time, herd the bird our way for the pups to play with, assumin' day dun't git kicked up-side dere heads.
ReplyDeleteHistorically, Sven and Ula didn't always use an exaggerated Scandinavian brogue in all their conversations; its origin began with their mutual affection for beer and good humor. Although Ula had 100% Irish ancestry, he was the better at talking the talk; whereas Sven, who had both Scandinavian/Scots-Irish ancestry, tended to sound vaguely, more Irish specializing in obscenities and Ula did not, the proper guy he was.
ReplyDelete