Potluck in Old Walderren

Potluck dinner in  some church, some where.

A moratorium  now outlawed church potlucks in Old Walderren. The last one caused a flash fire when the Barbeque Pit exploded, sending miscellaneous pork bits and ribs, along with Bob’s Secret Ingredient (lots of whiskey) flaming sauce, flying over to Ol' Miz Guthrie’s tiny old house.

Ol' Miz Guthrie heard screaming coming her way, and then smelled the barbeque fire on her roof.  “Oh, Lordy, Lordy!  My house ‘s afire!”  As fast as a squirrel on a live wire, she scampered out the door, wringing her hands while the fire department extinguished the barbeque flickers of flame.

No damage done,  Ol' Miz Guthrie thanked everyone, shushing them away, and hurried back inside.  Looking around at her immaculate, nicely decorated home, she raced down the steps to her basement, which was packed with a fireproof chest of jewelry (oh, how she love nice expensive jewelry), and packs of one-hundred bills. 

Unbeknownst to the community, Ol' Miz Guthrie was quite a spendthrift made possible by her late husband’s last bank robbery in 1955 in Chicago.  I gotta out of this town.

The next day her brother Ralf showed up at night with a big van and they moved everything from the basement during the big school dance.  Just before she closed the front door, Old Miz Guthrie turned the old gas cooker on high, and tossed a burning dish towel through the door.

The town mourned for her. Damned BBQ sauce.

This is a repost from March 2015, Wednesday Words. Oh, Lordy, they are fun.

Wednesday Words...The Horse Came Home Alone

Wanna buy a castle?

Down a weedy avenue to lower Westonderry Woods stood an abandoned castle, tumbling down stone by stone.  But once, this castle had been filled with light, music, and laughter, along with copious amounts of alcohol.

Lord Brandon Larson,a charismatic bachelor, had inherited a massive fortune which opened many doors to him, including the world of high society.  Lord Larson swept newly debuted young ladies off their feet.  And, if his charm succeeded, he swept them onto their backs.

 Soon he was swimming in debt.  All of his creditors were folding up his mortgages and moving in on him.  Also, many outraged titled fathers of pregnant young debutantes were circling their carriages around him.

Seeing no escape and not being one to cower  before the angry men, Lord Larson hastily buried the ledger notebook under heavy Swood planks, and stormed to the stables to saddle the fastest horse there.  Off he thundered, applying a riding crop with a heavy hand.

The horse came back alone, a wise decision on Lord Larson’s part, probably the only one he had ever made.

Wednesday Words: Old Miz Guthrie and the Fire

Arsonist squirrel

A moratorium was now placed on church potlucks. The last one caused a flash fire when the Barbeque Pit exploded, sending miscellaneous pork bits and ribs, along with Bob’s Secret Ingredient (lots of whiskey) flaming sauce, flying over to Old Miz Guthrie’s tiny old house.

Old Miz Guthrie heard screaming coming her way, and then smelled the barbeque fire on her roof.  “Oh, Lordy, Lordy!  My house ‘s afire!”  As fast as a squirrel on a live wire, she scampered out the door, wringing her hands while the fire department extinguished the barbeque flickers of flame.

No damage done, Old Miz Guthrie thanked everyone, shushing them away, and hurried back inside.  Looking around at her immaculate, nicely decorated home, she raced down the steps to her basement, which was packed with fire-proof chests of gold coins, jewelry (oh, how she love nice jewelry), and packs of one-hundred bills. 

Unbeknownst to the community, Old Miz Guthrie was quite a spendthrift made possible by her late husband’s last bank robbery in 1955 in Chicago.  I better get outta this town.

The next day her brother Raffert showed up at night with a big van and they moved everything from the basement during the big school dance.  Just before she closed the front door, Old Miz Guthrie turned the cooker on high, with bright flames crawling to a dishtowel.

The town mourned for her. Damned BBQ sauce.

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Kudos to Delores at Under the Porch Light!  These six underlined words were a challenge for me this time.  Just could not find a common thread to weave through and tie together.
Moratorium? Congratulations, Delores!  You got me.
Ahem.  If you would like to access her site and read other participants, please click on the lonely grapefruit in the sidebar.  And, please, join this challenge!