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U3A Writing: The Telephone Rang

Sometimes only one particular word will suffice., Zelda Margo tells a tale of a woman with a sharp tongue.

He was neither short nor tall. Just missed being really handsome. A youngish guy, comfortable in his own skin who loved cars and his dog Jock.

Santos was his name, but it was, “Just call me Sunday,” to his many clients. He’d been trained in the Mercedes workshop and those were the cars generally brought to his backyard garage. He always had as much work as he could handle.

“I’d like to speak to a Mr Santos,” said a rounded female voice.

“Yes, that’s me, but I’m generally called Sunday.”

“Mrs Morgan here, the wife of Dr William Morgan, whose car you always service.”

“Yes right, like all Mercs – in good nick for its age.”

“Mr Santos. I had to drive this car yesterday and I’m appalled that you call yourself a mechanic.”

Sunday’s mouth dropped open.

She tore a strip off him in perfectly formulated sentences. On and on she went.

“Lady. Do you understand English?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I mean proper English?''


“F- off.”
There was a gasp and a dead line.

“What a bitch,” said Sunday. Jock wagged his tail.

An hour later the phone rang.

“Sunday speaking.”

“William Morgan here. I believe my wife phoned you.”


“She was in quite a state when I got home.”

“Doc, I’m a mechanic, not a psychologist.”

“I believe you were very rude to her.”

“Dr Morgan. Your wife sharpened her tongue on me. I told her to f- off.”

“I’ve been wanting to tell her that for years.”

“What, Doc, is it that she’s blaming me for?”

“She dented the mudguard of my car on a pillar in the garage and claimed that it was faulty steering. I knew otherwise. I’ll bring the car in next week for the bodywork and a service.”

“Right. See you.”

“Sunday. We did not have this conversation.”

“OK Doc. Keep warm”

Men and women. Women and men. Give me cars and dogs, dogs and cars any day.


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