Many years ago, Alice and I were out shopping, and I decided to stop at Little Caesar’s for a pizza. It would be a surprise for David because I rarely brought supper home. I would always talk myself out of it, thinking of all the things I could fix at home that wouldn’t cost anything.
But for some reason, I had decided that that night we were having pizza. Alice was around 10 years old, so she went into the Little Caesar’s with me. I didn’t want her sitting in the car by herself for the 15 minutes it would take.
(I guess I should insert here that I was born in Iowa and moved to Alabama in 1960 when I was 8 years old. To this day, people ask me where I’m from because of the way I talk.)
There was a young man at the counter in Little Caesar’s. I placed my order and then he asked for my name.
“Weeks,” I said.
“Beeks?” he asked.
“No, Weeks with a W,” I said slowly, enunciating as much as I could.
“Oh,” he said, “Weeks. Is that w-e-e-k-s or w-e-a-k-s?”
“It’s Weeks, w-e-e-k-s, like days and weeks and months.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, as he wrote Beeks on the order form.
I looked at Alice and she looked at me. I shrugged as he handed me my receipt. There weren’t any other customers in the place, so, what the heck – we’ll be Beeks for 15 minutes. No one will ever know.
It was obvious that Little Caesar’s discouraged people from waiting around because they had the most uncomfortable bench ever. But we sat down, hoping it wouldn’t take very long.
About 10 minutes later, who should walk in the door but David! He had had the same thought – pizza for dinner tonight. He didn’t see us as he moved toward the counter.
“Oh, look!” I said in a loud voice. “It’s Mr. Beeks!”
David froze as he looked at us, smiling at him like idiots.
Later he told me he felt he was in the Twilight Zone.
Apparently, here were his wife and daughter in a place where they normally would not be found, and his wife of 17 years had just called him a name that was not his. He half expected Rod Serling to jump out from behind the counter with a cigarette in one hand and a pizza box in the other with some weird explanation of the whole thing.
Surprising David is so much fun! His look was priceless, and that’s why, 28 years later, I’m still surprising him.
Stay tuned for the latest developments…