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!

Wednesday Words: Pamela

Pamela had always been a gregarious child, her grandma said with just a bit of pride.  Grandpa called her “Munchkin” which made her laugh, because she was anything but small or weak.  Tall as a man and just as strong, Pamela could handle just about any physical challenge.

Pamela had always been a gregarious child, her grandma said with just a bit of pride.  Grandpa called her “Munchkin” which made her laugh, because she was anything but small or weak.  Tall as a man and just as strong, Pamela could handle just about any physical challenge.

Wikipedia, God bless 'em

The moonshiners in the back woods often tippled back a few samples of their work, which set them carousing and singing bawdy songs at the top of their lungs.  One afternoon, Grandpa mentioned that he wished those n’er do wells would get their comeuppance someday.  Pamela gave thought to his words.

When dusk was just dipping, Pamela wrapped herself in a burlap sack and darkened her face with charcoal.  Gazing about the barn, she noticed some ancient tools and buckets.  There in the corner was a rusted bed pan that Ol’ Aunt Pitty has used before she died.

Source: freepages.history...

Armed with the pan, Pamela crept silently up to the camp where the carousing men were staggering around.  She leapt from the brush with a roar.  Stunned, the men were speechless as Pamela battered them with the bed pan until some fainted. 

“GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!” Pamela roared.  They ran.

Pamela destroyed the still and jars of moonshine.

There would be no more carousing near Grandpa’s farm.

P.S.  Oh, Delores!  You are messing with our minds!

        The underlined words have been given to us by Delores @thefeatherednest.  Please visit this site to read what some have written in the comment section.  Also take a look at the participating sites in the right sidebar.  Fun reading.