Phone rings. Telephone-answering machine. Female voice.
Hello Vic ... this is aunt ELMA ... E ... L ... M ... A ... Elma ...
It's been a while since I last phoned you two days ago. I thought I'd ring again to check you're all OK and to give you our news from Glasgow ... also on account that I have nothing else to do for the moment ... our Jim has fallen asleep in front of the TV and left it switched on the football. There's a game on between Hibernian and Midlothian and he's asleep and missing it all ... here listen ...
Did you hear the TV? By the way ... that humming sound like a sawmill in the background is our Jim snoring ... He snores louder than the TV even with the sound on full power ... I cannot find the remote on account that he has slept on it ... He sits there like a big Teddy with the remote control under his backside ... I daren't go and fetch it on account of what else I might find down there ... the other day I tried and got hold of a half-eaten sausage that had dropped off his plate whilst he was having supper ...
He woke up suddenly and I jumped out of my skin with the fright he gave me ... he saw me holding the sausage and nearly fainted back to sleep again ... he did ...
He said I gave him a heart attack ... seeing me holding the sausage in my hand.
Anyways ... I said nothing to him ... a closed mouth gathers no feet, you know!
I didn't tell you did I? You know Mr Mac Ramé? He used to teach origami at the college. Well, he's resigned. He said it was too much paperwork. He's a Christian, you know. He told me his wife introduced him to religion. He did not know what hell was until he met her. That's when he discovered what happiness was; but by then it was too late for him, poor soul.
He said he wants to be a monk, but they will not have him on account that he is married. He told them he'll take her along as his penance.
I told you about Mr Mac Merton who died on account of him being hit by a bus didn't I? Well I was passing his house and noticed that they were still delivering his newspapers everyday. He had a pile of papers on his doorstep, he had. One of them had his obituary in it. I sat there and read it. Amazing how people always die in alphabetical order. I was reading the paper in case Jim or I were in it and no one told us.
Anyways ... I left a note on the door for the newspaper boy. It said, "Please do not leave newspapers for Mr Mac Merton at Number 14 as he is dead until further notice".
Oh dear Lord ... I nearly forgot to tell you I did ... It was in the local papers and all ... in a village not twenty miles from here they saw a flying thingy from outer space. What do they call it? A Pee F O or something. Well, apparently, I heard from Mrs McTavish that these spacemen people turned a man into a haggis. When his wife rang the police to ask what she should do they told her to either boil him for an hour or put him in the oven until it is ready. Can you imagine that? Having your husband turned into a haggis?
I'd never have my Jim with boiled potatoes and parsnips I wouldn't.
Anyways ... that's all for now. Phone you again soon.