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Nazareth, Pa., United States

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Fred Angle Stories

Fred Angle's tombstone
Ron Angle is an idiot. After his father Fred passed away, he told the newspapers that his relationship with his father was strictly business. He tells me that, too. That's nonsense. He loved his father, who in his prime was a big strapping railroad man who could walk with a tie on each shoulder. Fred loved Ron, too. Ron visited his father daily. At dinner with his beautiful wife Sharon last night, Ron told me a number of Fred Angle stories, each more funny than the last.


Lionel was Fred Angle's best friend, and a major league ball buster. He knew exactly what buttons to push to drive poor Fred over the edge. So naturally, Ron often would bring Lionel with him to see his dad. One day Fred got so worked up that he called the state police, then five minutes later, called back and told them not to come.

A trooper came anyway. Once a call is made, they're coming.

Ron and Lionel sat there like innocent schoolchildren, while Fred explained they were picking on him.

"Look if you call me here one more time, I'm not leaving alone," the trooper snarled.

Ron and Lionel then learned that Fred had called the day before because his housekeeper had locked herself in a room. Fred was getting too frisky. He thought the state police could order her out of her room.

The Housekeeper

Fred Angle went through housekeepers the way I go through toilet paper, mainly because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.  He even bought a van for one housekeeper's boyfriend so that he could work more and she'd have more time for him.

Unfortunately, his plan failed. A 300 lbs. fellow stopped outside the house one day, and said he was looking for directions to good fishing spots along the Delaware River. She hopped into the car with him, and was gone for three days.

The Cannon  

Ron has a friend who made a cannon. Not some big bang cannon, but an honest-to-goodness firing machine. i think the statute of limitations has expired, so let me tell you their crime. They liked filling the barrel with black powder, wadding it in with toilet paper and then setting it off with a cherry bomb as a fuse. It hurled a flame 40' long.

Well, from time to time, in the middle of the night, they'd set it off next to someone's house as a joke. They eventually stopped when they accidentally set someone's porch on fire, but before that, Ron decided to do it to his dad one night.

KABOOM, went the cannon, as a streak of flame shot out.

Inside Fred's house, you could see the bedroom light go on. Then the hall light. Then the kitchen light. Finally, the basement. In reverse order, the lights slowly went off and darkness returned.

KABOOM, went the cannon, as a streak of flame shot out.

Once again, the bedroom and all the other lights went on and off.

The next day, Fred told Ron that he was really angry. Why, asked Ron innocently.

Fred explained that he just got a new boiler and the blow back from it sounded just like a cannon. He was going to call the dealer to complain.

I hope it's under warranty, answered Ron.

The tombstone

Above you can see Fred's tombstone. That is no joke. He wanted dollar signs and dancing girls engraved on it. He also asked Ron for an epitaph that reads, "17 new cars, 37 women." Ron was unwilling to go that far.

He was a very colorful man, just like his son.

And it was no business relationship.


Anonymous said...

You were eating with Ron's mother and him? This was one better than any shit slinging story and I am sure more laughs than a barrol of monkeys? Good reading with the anticipated edited out weekend almost upon the ReNue the valley?

Looking forward to many laughs as soon laughing matters will be far and few between as poverty and degradation infect the entire area?

patent pending

Anonymous said...

Where's the stripper pole?