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!
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