The Baptist Church Dinner

Baptist Church wanted to get together

 

on a regular basis, socialize, and play

 

games. The lady of the house was to

 

prepare the meal.


When it came time for Al and Janet to

 

be the hosts, Janet wanted to outdo

 

all the others. She decided to have

 

mushroom-smothered steak. But

 

mushrooms are expensive. She then

 

told her husband, "No mushrooms.

 

They are too high."


He said, "Why don't you go down in

 

the pasture and pick some of those

 

mushrooms? There are plenty in

 

the creek bed."


She said, "No, some wild

 

mushrooms are poison." 

He said, "Well, I see varmints

 

eating them and they're OK."

 

So Janet decided to give it a

 

try.. She picked a bunch, washed,

 

sliced, and diced them for her

 

smothered steak. 

Then she went out on the back

 

porch and gave Ol' Spot

 

(the yard dog) a double handful.

 

Ol' Spot ate every bite. All

 

morning long, Janet watched

 

Ol' Spot and the wild mushrooms

 

didn't seem to affect him, so

 

she decided to use them.


The meal was a great success,

 

and Janet even hired a helper

 

lady from town to help her

 

serve. After everyone had

 

finished, they relaxed, socialized,

 

and played '42' and dominoes.

 

About then, the helper lady

 

came in and whispered in

 

Janet's ear.


She said, "Mrs. Williams, Ol' Spot

 

is dead."


Janet went into hysterics.


After she finally calmed down,

 

she called the doctor and told

him what had happened.


The doctor said, "That's bad, but

 

I think we can take care of it. I will

 

call for an ambulance and I will

 

be there as quickly as possible.

 

We'll give everyone enemas and

 

we will pump out everyone's

 

stomach. Everything will be fine.

 

Just keep them calm.."


Soon they could hear the siren

 

as the ambulance was coming

 

down the road.


The EMTs and the doctor had

 

their suitcases, syringes, and

 

a stomach pump.


One by one, they took each

 

person into the bathroom, gave

 

them an enema, and pumped

 

out their stomach.


After the last one was finished,

 

the doctor came out and said,

 

"I think everything will be fine

 

now," and he left. They were

 

all looking pretty weak sitting

 

around the living room and about

 

this time the helper lady came in

 

and whispered to Janet, "You

 

know, that fellow that run over

 

Ol' Spot never even stopped."

I Remember Christmas

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma.  I was just a kid.  I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb:  "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered.   "Even dummies know that!" My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been.  I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me.  I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world- famous" cinnamon buns.  I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so.  It had to be true. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm.  Between bites, I told her everything.  She was ready for me.  "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous!  Don't believe it.  That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad,  plain mad!!  Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go?  Go where, Grandma?" I asked.  I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.  "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything.  As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.  That was a bundle in those days.  "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it.   I'll wait for you in the car."  Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old.  I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself.  The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew:  my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker.  He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.  Bobby Decker didn't have a coat.  I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter.  His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat.  I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement.  I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it.  It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.  "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly.  "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat.   I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas. That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.  Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.  Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open.  Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.  That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were  --  ridiculous.  Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside:  $19.95. May you always have LOVE to share,  HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care... And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!