By Margie Mountain
Hey Y’all! Well, the rain finley stopped fer a few dayz and I shore am proud. Ifn I hadn’t seed the sunshine agen afore I’d a been thankin gloom and doom wuz all we’z in fer. I heered sumbudy gripin tuther day bout it gettin cold agen, but this here’z how I feel bout that. It’z alrite that it’z a little cold az long az the sun iz a shinin. I still got sum purdy winner outfits that I ain’t pulm tard uv yet so I kan hanle a little more cold. Enyhow, it wuz o-fish-a-lee still winner til taday.
Hey I ben fusin on Ole Earl latly bout not payin guder nuff a-ten-shun an me an the galz at church has ben com-parin talz bout our men. I heered sum reel gud-unz las weak and I thot yu mite lack ta heer em tu. So here goz. I’ll jest say, the namz iz changed ta pertect everbudy’z eye-dent-a-tee.
Wun gal wuz a talkin bout her bruther, Morris, whut’z a 82 year old feller. Well, Morris went ta the dock-ter ta get a physical and whut he’z spectin ta heer az a 82 year old feller wuz, not gud ta say the leest. Well, a few dayz later the dock-ter seed Morris walkin down the street with a gorg-us young fillie holtin onta his arm. Boy wuz he sa-prizd. The next day the dock-ter seed Morris agen and axed him. “Ye’re reely doin great, ain’t ye?” Well, ole Morris sayd, “I’m jest duin whut ye sayd tu, DocK ‘Get a hot momma and be cheerful.’” Well old Doc Shakleford, Oops! I meen the dock-ter sayd, “I didn’t say nary a bit uv that. I sayd, ‘Yu’ve got a heart murmur. Be careful.’”
A nuther storee went lack this ret here. I’ll call him Gorg. Enyhow he’z readin hiz Mountain Valley Newpaper tuther day when hiz wife come up bahind him an smacked him on the back uv the head with a fryin pan. Gorg axed, “Whut wus that fer?” Sally May, Oops I meen Martha sayd, “I fount a piece uv paper in yer pocket with ‘Betty Sue’ rote on it.” Gorg say, “Dad Gum, Huny, member las weak when I went ta the track? ‘Betty Sue’ wuz the name uv the horse I went thare ta bet on.” Martha jest shruged her sholders and walkt away. Bout three dayz later he’z reading the North Jackson Press newspaper when Martha walkt up bahind him an smackt him on the back uv the hed agen with the fryin pan. Gorg asks, “Whut wuz that fer?” Martha sayd, “Yer horse calt taday.”
Well, Sister Bertha Mae tolt this here on herself. Now let me jest say that Bertha Mae iz a sweet old lady. Thay jest don’t come much sweeter than Bertha Mae. Enyhow Bertha Mae is wun whut often duz grossry shoppin fer the sick folks in the church. Well, thay’z this here hot, summer day when a woman asked Bertha Mae ta pick up a few things an brang them by her house. Now let me jest say this uther woman lives in a purdy dang-rus part of town, an Bertha Mae didn’t lack goin ta that part uv town, but she felt lack she jeat cudn’t say no. So Bertha Mae got the groceries and started off down the road ta the old sick lady’s house. Jest az Bertha Mae drove inta the bad nay-berhood she noticed sum whodlums standin ever whare. Even tho Bertha Mae didn’t have no air con-dish-a-nin in her ole jalopy, she rolt up the winderz an suffered in the 90 dagree heat. She drove ahead til all uv a suden she heerd a loud pop an felt a jolt ta the back uv her hed. She retcht a round ta feel the back uv her hed an come back with a handful uv wet oozin mess whut she jest nu fer shore wuz part uv her brain. Balevin she’s dun went ahed on and been shot, Bertha Mae turnt a round an drov ta the hospital likity split! Sumhow she made it inta the mergency room an amazinly had a nuff strenth ta walk herself ret up ta the desk. She tolt the a-ten-dunt that she’d ben shot an Boy Hidy she’z rushed back ta a room kwiker than lit-nin Dock-ter whurled a round an a round lukin her over frum hed ta toe and then axed, “Whare wuz ye shot?” (since they didn’t see nary a bit uv blood no whare). Bertha Mae sayd “my head!” Well, the dock-ters fount the mass of the oozin white suff the woman had felt, thankin it wuz her brain, but wudn’t part uv her brain. It wuz only a lump uv biskit doe frum a kan whut had sploded in the heat uv her car.
Well, I gotta skedaddle fer now. Y’all come on back next week, ye hear!