Megh and I quote this story at each other from time to time about ordering breakfast at a foreign hotel. It originally came to us via email in the early days of Eternal September.
We riffed on it in front of a friend tonight. This friend did not know the story, and after giving the short-short-short story on it I figured I’d see if I could find it online.
Apparently it was written by Shelley Berman¹, not a random unknown person, and forwarded via email endlessly without permission or attribution.
I’m going to redistribute it again, but this time with attribution.
(Reading hints: You are on the phone. The other party is also in the hotel.)
Morny, rune sore-bees.
Oh sorry, I thought I dialed room service.
Rye. Rune sore-bees. Morny. Jewish to odor sunteen?
Yes, order something. This is room thirteen-oh-five. I want…
Okay, torino-fie. Yes plea?
I’d like some bacon and eggs.
Ow July then?
What?
Aches. Ow July then? Pry, boy, pooch…?
Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry. Scrambled, please.
Ow July thee baycome? Crease?
Crisp will be fine.
Okay. An Santos?
What?
Santos. July Santos?
Uh…I don’t know…I don’t think so.
No? Judo one toes?
Look. I really feel bad about this, but I just don’t know what judo-one-toes means. I’m sorry…
Toes! Toes! Why Jew Don Juan toes? Ow bow eenlish mopping we bother?
English muffin! I’ve got it! You were saying toast! Fine. An English muffin will be fine.
We bother?
No. Just put the bother on the side.
Wad?
I’m sorry. I meant butter. Butter on the side.
Copy?
I feel terrible about this but…
Copy. Copy, tea, mill…
Coffee!! Yes, coffee please. And that’s all.
One Minnie. Ass rune torino-fie, strangle-aches, crease baycome, tossy eenlish mopping we bother honey sigh, and copy. Rye?
Whatever you say.
Okay. Tenjewberrymud.
You’re welcome.
Shelley Berman, A Hotel is a Place, Price Stern Sloan, 1972.
When I first received the story, it was supposed to have originated somewhere in Asia but the accent and (mis)pronunciation always seemed to be Spanish to me. (so maybe Philippines?)
¹ My first encounter with Mr. Berman was “The Sex Life Of The Primate (And Other Bits Of Gossip)” from my parent’s collection of vinyl. I was 12 or 13 and much of the humor went over my head – but not all of it.
