Perfect Turkeys and Other Amusing Tales

By Michael Delphy Hunt

Perfect Turkeys is the second in a series of books, that examines (through short stories) the often hilarious, and always funny life and times of Michael Devin Hughes. Whether searching for the Perfect Turkey for Thanksgiving, or trying to locate the Fig Queen's House in Brewster Hollow, or reserving a hotel room with a chain hotel, Michael Devin Hughes complicates the most simple of tasks. Though quadruple-divorced, Hughes maintains relations with his ex-wives and children, as the short stories, "Dancing With My Daughter," "A Walk at Sunset With My Son," and "Chief of Personal Appearance" reveal.

Michael Devin Hughes' obsessive nature is deliciously illustrated in "Lemon Bars." His humorous bond with his father is wonderfully amplified in "The Buffet Line." And Hughes incredibly bad timing is hilariously detailed in "Dinner and Railroad Crossings."

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 27, 2003
• ISBN: 9780595750122

Michael Delphy Hunt

Michael Delphy Hunt is a local government attorney in Florida, specializing in contracts, utilities, and telecommunications. His first book is Chicken Foots Stew And Other Humorous Stories. Michael is currently working on his third book of humorous short stories, Suicide Muffins And Other Funny Anecdotes.

Book preview

Gifts—Buying a Computer for My Father 

Gift anxiety. Every year I faced it, trying to come up with the perfect, or at least, the most practical gift for my father. I would take my time, and visit dozens of stores in search of some gift that would make his life easier, or show him just how much I cared. But invariably, I failed.

The gold watch that I bought him for his birthday two years ago remains hidden in his dresser drawer. He’s told me on more than one occasion, You need not spend that much on me, son. This second-hand model keeps time just fine.

Last year I bought him a calculator, nothing fancy mind you, just a calculator, so that he might balance his checkbook a tad easier. My father looked at the gift, and looked at me. By his facial expression, which was tart and wrinkled, you would have thought that I had just given him a glob of nuclear waste. I don’t need it, he replied, with his lips curled up in disgust.

I just thought it might help you, I replied, belatedly recognizing the error of my gift giving.

My father tapped the crown of his head. I don’t need a calculator, not as long as my brain is still functioning. You think I’ve gotten too old to add and subtract?

No, it’s just— I stopped. It was pointless.

Quick, what is forty times seventy?

What? I don’t know, pops. You caught me off guard.

It’s twenty-eight hundred. I rest my case.

I could not argue or compete with that kind of logic, so I quit trying to change my father’s beliefs or actions, at least for that day.

Another year passed, and you would have thought that I would have learned my lesson. But I hadn’t. For sometime, I had contemplated getting my father a computer. Certainly if my father balked at buying a calculator, it made absolutely no sense to even consider purchasing a computer for him. Yet, I was not deterred, because no one had ever said that I had any sense. So I approached my father.

He stopped reading the morning newspaper, and squinted at me, as though I were being examined under a microscope.

How are you doing, pops?

My father arched his eyebrows as only he could. He smacked his lips. By that look on your face, you have either eaten too much corn, or you want something. What is it?

Ah, the moment of truth. There was no sense in beating around the bush. I would just ask my father directly about going to look at some computers. I mean there was no harm in asking, right? I welcomed the opportunity to ask him, and get an immediate response. Yes, sir. That was what I was going to do. Ask my father about looking at some computers. Yep, I would ask my dear old man about the possibility of buying a computer for him.

Well, he said, waiting for my not so immediate response.

I was wondering, pops. Well, actually I was just thinking. I guess I was wondering more than I was thinking—

In heaven’s name, what, son?

I wanted to buy you a no-frills computer. But, I wanted to buy you one that would give you Internet access. If you have Internet access, then you can read newspapers from across the country, without having to go down to the corner newsstand. So, I wanted to know if you would go with me to Bongo Bob’s Computers, in order to look at some computers.

That’s what you wanted to ask me?

Yes.

Well you know what, son?

What, pops? I timidly asked, not really wanting the unvarnished, straight-from-the-hip, uncensored answer.

Well I have been thinking about purchasing a computer for the exact same reason. If you want to buy me a computer for that purpose, and the price is not too much, then I say ‘why not, and thank you.’

Who are you? I asked, stunned at his response. My father would never agree to go with me to Bongo Bob’s to look at computers.

Look, you made a good point. If I can access hundreds of newspapers over the Internet for a nominal price, then I’ll save money on the papers, and wear and tear on my car. Now, let’s check out Bongo Bob’s before I change my mind.

We left in such a hurry, that we forgot to say good-bye to my mother.

With seven locations scattered around the metro region, Bongo Bob’s was the area’s largest computer store. We drove to the nearest store, which was located at Dempsey Plaza.

Though I used computers extensively at work, and on occasion at home, I was basically computer illiterate. To put it another way, as a simple man with a simple mind, I understood the simplest of computer commands and instructions.

We walked down a row that had over two-dozen different models of computers. The most expensive computers, the ones with all the bells and whistles, were stacked in such a way as to make the cheaper, less sophisticated models virtually invisible.

I examined the promotional literature for the T-Einstein 101-A. At eight hundred fifty dollars, it was not the cheapest computer in the store, but it seemed best suited for my father’s basic needs. Hey, pops. This computer might be just the ticket for you.

I’ve never heard of a T-Einstein computer. I’ve never read about a T-Ein-stein computer, and I’ve never seen a commercial extolling the virtues of a T-Einstein computer. I’m not impressed.

I had to admit that until that day, I had never heard of a T-Einstein computer either. However, according to the information in the promotional brochure, the computer magazine Data Possibilities rated the T-Einstein 101-A, four and three-quarter stars out of five.

Are you sure, pops?

Positive.

At that moment, a young sales clerk weighed in on the T-Einstein. You don’t want a T-Einstein, he said for the benefit of both of us.

I kind of figured that young man, my father remarked. I suppose you got an even better model just waiting for me, a more expensive model, right?

Well, actually no, sir.

No?

That’s correct. You know, you actually remind me a lot of my father. Both of you want a good product at a good price. Neither one of you wants or needs all the bells and whistles. All either of you wants is the basic, bare-bones computer, that is capable of Internet access.

That’s right, young man.

Please call me, Barry. And you are?

I am Christopher Hughes, and this is my son, Michael.

Nice to meet both of you.

I chimed in, So what would you recommend that my father buy?

Well, the T-Einstein is certainly a functional, no-frills computer. But the reason I said that you should not buy it is because it is not user-friendly, and the warranty is not that good. In fact, for those reasons among others, Bongo Bob’s has stopped selling T-Einstein computers altogether. That is the last model in the store. Now Bongo Bob’s sells with confidence the Krimshaw 15, which is basic, functional, user-friendly, and competitively priced. Honestly, there are computers out there that cost less than the Krimshaw 15. But what sets the Krimshaw 15 apart from other similar computers is its tech support. If you ever have a problem, there is 24/7 tech support that is tops in the business.

The sales pitch for the Krimshaw 15 was impressive, but what was missing from Barry’s presentation was a mention of the price for a Krimshaw 15. How much does the Krimshaw 15 cost? I asked.

Barry smiled. The reason that there is no price listed is because we’re running a one-day unadvertised special. The list price for the Krimshaw 15 is eight hundred dollars. Bongo Bob’s regular discount price is seven hundred fifty dollars. But for today, and today only, my manager is running an unadvertised sale on the Krimshaw 15. So if we can shake on a deal, I can let you have it for six hundred forty dollars. That’s a savings of twenty percent over the list price.

In my mind, a twenty percent reduction over the list price was a great savings. I shook Barry’s hand and said, It sounds good to me. We’ll take it.

In my father’s mind, the price reduction was neither great, nor worthy of a sale. He broke in and said, Just wait a minute. Your quoted price might be a savings of twenty percent over the list price, but it’s only a fifteen percent savings over your advertised price. When you think about it, that’s not much of an unadvertised special.

Mr. Hughes, I really want your business. And I can see that you are a discriminating buyer who recognizes value. But if I lower the price anymore, I will get into trouble with the store manager. However, I do have authority to sweeten the offer by including an upgraded software package in the Bongo Bob’s price of six hundred forty dollars. With the upgraded software package included, you have an uncommonly good value. So do we have a deal, if I throw in, at no additional charge, an upgraded software package worth over a hundred dollars?

My father shook his head. Look Barry, you can do better than that.

Really, Mr. Hughes, that is my best offer. You will not find a better value than that anywhere within two hundred fifty miles of this store.

Is that so? My father retrieved a coupon from his shirt pocket. It was a double super saver coupon from Nutty Nellie’s Computer House, which was located a little more than one mile from the Dempsey Plaza Bongo Bob’s. Through the weekend, Nutty Nellie’s was offering the exact same computer, with exact same add-ons as Bongo Bob’s, at a price that was three hundred dollars cheaper than the model offered at Bongo Bob’s. My father pointed to one of the many signs posted in the store. According to Bongo Bob’s price beat guarantee, it will beat by fifty dollars, any advertised price for the same item.

Mr. Hughes, we do indeed have a price beat guarantee, but it only applies to advertised prices that are posted in competitor’s stores. The price beat guarantee does not apply to competitor’s coupons that reduce an existing list price.

Barry, I am old, not feeble. You must think that I just fell off the potato wagon. Bongo Bob’s price beat guarantee does not contain any such exclusion. Now unless you want me to contact Brad Coxe, the investigative reporter for Channel 6, I strongly suggest that you beat Nutty Nellie’s price by fifty dollars, and sweeten the deal a little more, in order to compensate me and my son for the pain and suffering you have inflicted upon us.

Pain and suffering? I thought that my father was reaching a bit with the pain and suffering claim, but I had to admit, that the beads of sweat on Barry’s nose, expressed concern.

I’ll have to check with the store manager.

You do that, Barry. We’re not going anywhere.

I nudged my father in the ribs, and then whispered to him, Pops, I am impressed about the Nutty Nellie coupon.

It’s all about preparation, son. He wants to give me a software package that I do not need, as opposed to shaving another forty or fifty dollars off the so-called unadvertised sale price. But if they want to lose the sale, then we’ll go to Nuttie Nellie’s. After all, we have options.

Four or five minutes later, Barry returned with an older gentleman whose salt and pepper colored hair blended perfectly with his off-the-rack suit.

The older man smiled as if to say, he cared about my father’s frustration over the coupon fiasco. Extending his hand, he greeted my father. Good afternoon, Mr. Hughes. I am Clarence Martin, the store manager. I have just spoken with Barry who informs me that you are not happy with certain aspects of Bongo Bob’s price beat guarantee.

That’s an understatement, my father replied coolly.

Well, I apologize for any confusion that you may have with respect to Bongo’s Bob’s price beat guarantee, and your Nuttie Nellie’s coupon. But, I am afraid that I cannot accept the Nuttie Nellie coupon. That would be against company policy, and would land me in hot water with my regional manager.

My father’s patience waned with every explanation. He massaged his eyelids, then responded, Mr. Martin, I am not confused about Bongo Bob’s price beat guarantee. It is clear and unequivocal.

Clarence Martin’s facial expression remained unchanged. He appeared concerned, yet resolute. Mr. Hughes, I recognize that there is a problem. But as I have said, I am without authority to accept the Nutty Nellie coupon. Perhaps though, there is something else that I can do that will sweeten the offer that Barry made. In addition to the upgraded software package, I am authorized to include two free months of Cobra Pike Premium Internet Service. That has a list value of one hundred ten dollars. So if we have a deal, we will offer to you the Krimshaw 15 at the unadvertised, ridiculously low sales price of six hundred forty dollars. Included in that price, at no additional charge to you, is an upgraded software package for the Krimshaw 15, plus two months of Cobra Pike Premium Internet Service, which is viewed by many as the up-and-coming Internet Service Provider in the country. If purchased separately, those add-ons would cost over two hundred dollars. Now I am sure that you will agree that the proposed deal provides a superb value.

Mr. Martin, what I see is a retail establishment that won’t abide by its price beat guarantee.

Mr. Hughes, I can do no better.

Then, I am going to talk to Brad Coxe at Channel 6.

Mentioning Brad Coxe neither impressed, nor ruffled Clarence Martin. Yet, he offered one additional avenue for mediating the dispute. As luck would have it, Alberta Tinsley, our regional manager is here today. Let me discuss your concern with her.

I’ll be waiting, my father said with dogged determination.

Clarence Martin and Barry huddled with Alberta Tinsley. A couple of times, I could see one of them pointing over in our general direction.

What do you think is going to happen, pops?

Hard to say, son. They think that I can be pacified with offers of extra equipment when I don’t need such. Well they don’t know me very well. I am focused. I simply want them to honor their price beat guarantee.

Alberta Tinsley walked over and greeted by my father by nodding in his direction. With black, short-cropped hair, stylish gold hoop earrings, gold, horn-rimmed glasses, and a light brown jacket, blouse, and pants, she exuded a hard-nosed professional, not easily swayed by the complaints of everyday customers. But then, my father wasn’t an everyday customer.

Alberta cupped her hands as she spoke. Mr. Hughes, Mr. Martin has briefed me on the nature of your complaint. While I am quite familiar with Bongo Bob’s price beat guarantee, I decided to contact my superior, Mr. Dennis Hoskins, District Manager. He confirmed the fact that Bongo Bob’s price beat guarantee does not cover your particular situation, which is a newspaper-generated coupon from our competitor Nuttie Nellie. Therefore, the Nuttie Nellie coupon will not be honored at this, or any other Bongo Bob store. However, Mr. Martin also informed me that in an effort to retain good customer relations, he offered you a quite generous incentive package.

I agree that Mr. Martin offered a generous incentive package. But what everyone seems to overlook is that I simply want Bongo Bob’s to honor its price beat guarantee.

Alberta responded with a bit more bite in her voice, We’re going around in circles, Mr. Hughes. Bongo Bob’s price beat guarantee does not cover the Nutty Nellie’s coupon.

You’re right, Ms. Tinsley, we are going in circles. In fact, we have reached an impasse. It is time to contact the media. Son, do you have your cell phone with you?

As a matter of fact, I do.

Please let me use it. As I handed my father the cell phone, he addressed the sales clerk, store manager, and regional manager. Lady and Gentlemen, you have left me with no choice. I am going to contact Brad Coxe right now, and see if he can send a crew out here. Even if he can’t, I am certain that he will want to investigate the fine print of Bongo Bob’s price beat guarantee.

Quite frankly, Mr. Hughes, I believe that you are bluffing. But under the circumstances, and in order to avoid potential negative or misleading media coverage, I am authorized to make a one-time only price accommodation. So Bongo Bob’s will meet the price reflected in Nuttie Nellie’s coupon.

My father removed his glasses and peered deep into the district manager’s eyes. Well you know what? Meeting the price reflected on Nuttie Nellie’s coupon is not good enough now. We want more.

You’ll never get more from Bongo Bob’s, Alberta Tinsley responded tersely.

Come on, son. We’re going to Nuttie Nellie’s, and after we purchase the same computer for hundreds of dollars less, we will contact Brad Coxe.

We walked out of the store, and moved briskly to my car. I’m sorry, pops. I’ve never had problems at Bongo Bob’s before.

Don’t worry, son. It’s not over yet.

What are you talking about?

Look.

When I turned, Barry, the young salesclerk was approaching us as fast as his bowlegs would permit him. Mr. Hughes! Mr. Hughes! Wait a minute, please. Ms. Tinsley would like another word with you.

My father refused to smile, but it was evident that he was pleased at the turn of events. In a retail game of chicken, Bongo Bob’s blinked first.

We returned to the store. From that point, her response, and the final result was anti-climatic.

And so, Bongo Bob’s finally accepted the Nuttie Nellie’s coupon. For two hundred ninety dollars (the store said it would pay all associated taxes) we left Bongo Bob’s with a Krimshaw 15, an upgraded software package, two months of Cobra Pike Premium Internet Service, a lifetime, unconditional warranty on the Krimshaw 15, and a one hundred dollar gift certificate for both Malcolm and Millicent.

Outside, I asked, Pops, why did you take the extras? You know that you will never use them.

We both know that son, but they didn’t. Besides, hopefully this incident will teach all the sales people at Bongo Bob’s that the simplest way to maintain good relations with customers is to never make a promise that it can’t keep. That’s been my credo since before you were born. And you have to admit that it has worked well.

You’re absolutely right, pops.

And so I bought my father a two thousand dollar computer for less than three hundred dollars. And in the process, I re-learned a valuable lesson. Always cherish and value the wisdom and guidance given you by your parents.

Indeed it had been a good day.

Computer Foul-ups 

As most of us know, computers are wonderful, timesaving tools for efficiency and productivity. In fact, computers receive universal praise, except when they receive universal contempt. For computers are only as wonderful as humans make them. And computers are only as timesaving as the individuals who use them in the correct way. Recently, I encountered a computer problem that stumped everyone in the company.

It started innocently enough. I typed in my password to log onto my computer at work. Nothing. I probably misspelled the password, sharkbait. The second time, I typed slower. I pressed the enter key expecting access to my computer. Nothing. Was it possible that my password changed overnight? I checked with my super-efficient secretary Amanda. No, according to Amanda, my password had not changed. The third time, I typed even slower, pausing a couple seconds between each letter. I tapped the enter key. Third time was the charm, I figured. Nothing.

If this had been my computer at home, I would have unplugged it, and started from scratch. But during every company computer class that I had ever attended, the number one instruction given to all students was, never, under any circumstances, unplug a company computer. Not wishing to create a cataclysmic situation, I considered other less drastic options. I jiggled the monitor. Nothing. I pressed the enter key roughly fifty times. Not a sound or other reaction registered from my computer.

Because Amanda thought it might be malfunctioning keyboard keys, she gently vacuumed those areas of the keyboard that had gathered dust, mechanical pencil bits, and hole punch fragments. My keyboard appeared much brighter, but vacuuming failed to restore the operability of my computer.

Stewart from cubicle 6B dropped by to examine my computer. He displayed many talents, but fixing computers was not one of them. He rotated the mouse while repeating some mystical chant. The chant calmed him, frustrated me, and had no effect on the computer whatsoever.

To say that I was stumped was a gigantic understatement. When it came to computers, I was not Bill Gates. Heck, I wasn’t even Arthur Gates, my son Malcolm’s computer teacher. Finally recognizing that I had absolutely no clue as to either the source or remedy for the problem, I contacted the company’s Information Technology Services Department. Speaking with Barb the receptionist, she assured me that an ITS representative would visit my office within the hour.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Josephus Dalrymple hobbled over to my office. While technically a member of the Information Technology Department, Josephus Dalrymple was at least fifteen years older than my father, and could resolve only the most simple computer problems. Josephus should have been home sipping cocoa, and playing a game of checkers with his greatgrandchildren. Instead, he was delegated to fix my inoperable computer.

I explained the problem to Josephus, and he proceeded to examine the computer cables, the monitor, and the printer. It never occurred to him that he should inspect the keyboard. When I suggested that he should run a couple of tests on the keyboard, Josephus assured me that the keyboard had nothing to do with the problem. He added, I don’t tell you how to negotiate a contract do I, Hughes? So just let me do my job.

It took Josephus Dalrymple over an hour to do his job. In the end, the computer still did not operate.

As Josephus prepared to leave, he commented, Between you and me, I would get a new computer system. This one is no good.

Thanks for the advice. I called Barb again in Information Technology Services.

Next up was Stan Kingston. He entered my office carrying several sophisticated computer tools and gadgets. With one instrument, he examined the monitor, and tower. He pressed the letters on the keypad, in an attempt to type something. Nothing registered on the monitor’s screen. Kingston scratched the hair behind his right ear, then pulled out an operating manual and began reading one of the chapters.

After a few minutes, I finally asked, So what do you think is causing the problem?

Kingston momentarily ignored me, and tapped the side of the computer monitor. Nothing changed. The computer continued to display a cryptic code. As an afterthought, Kingston turned in my direction, and said, I haven’t the foggiest as to what is causing your problem. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m baffled.

Kingston repeated steps two through seven in sequence 1-A of the operating manual. There was a brief momentary flicker. But in the end, I still could not log onto my computer.

Frustrated, but not defeated, Kingston removed a mini-halogen flashlight from his tool belt, and directed the intense illumination to the back of the computer tower. Perhaps one of the connections is loose, he offered as an explanation of the problem.

Finally, with acres of wrinkles cropping his forehead, and sweat flooding the wrinkles, and streaming from his face as though it were a waterfall, Kingston dejectedly noted, I’m going to have to call in Perkins.

From what I gathered, Kingston had no use for Perkins. Although Kingston had worked for the company for several years, Perkins, the youngster, was the rising star of the ITS Department.

Kingston’s conversation with Perkins lasted less than thirty seconds. Afterwards, he mumbled, He’ll be up immediately.

Paul Perkins, the senior computer technician for the company strolled into my office. He was a twenty-something who had been with the company for a couple of years. Unlike Kingston who wore a denim shirt and pants, Perkins dressed California casual, as though he were about to film a suntan lotion commercial.

Next to Perkins, we were a bunch of ill-informed, and ill-prepared computer bumpkins and illiterates. He had never been presented with a computer problem that was too difficult to handle. A couple of taps on the keyboard, or maybe a slight repositioning of the computer tower, and Perkins figured that he would correct the situation, and have enough time to down a cup of Brazilian decaf at the company cafeteria.

Kingston disliked virtually everything about Perkins, from his twenty-twenty vision, to his roaring biceps, to his white and straight teeth. Perhaps Perkins understood computers better than anyone in the company, but he was neither infallible, nor an absolute computer whiz. However, Perkins was senior computer technician for the company, and that title carried great weight and visibility. So Kingston had