The Possum Fest
We’re back from the Possum Festival. And as I promised, I’ll tell ya all about what a time we had. First off, we fired up the old mobile home and way we went just a getting it down the road. Then we started a smelling a strange smell. Somebody hollered pocat stew, on a count they thought we’d hit a pocat. But as it turned out Grandpa had just forgot he’d took off his socks!
So after that we had a pretty uneventful ride. Cousin Pauline was also there. I hadn’t seen her in near on five years. She’s 17 now and unmarried so Grandma spent the rest of the festival trying to set her up with every available feller around.
Needless to say, she never found one. On our way back home Granny just kept on a talking about how if that girl didn’t get her head on straight she was a gonna be spinster the rest of her life!
I took the prize for the Possum Pie Eating Contest. I eat 37 pies in 5 minutes. For a man my age, I’d say that was pretty good. Ole fat Francis Jubile gave me a run though. He actually eat 39 pies. But the last two didn’t count. Given the fact, that Betsy Manner had put some rum in the ones she made. Made ole Francis so drunk, he fell off the stool. And well, as for the pies we won’t say what happened to them. Just that they had them a short visit to his stomach!
Pa took 2nd place in the Greased Pig Roping. I wouldn’t tell him, but I think he wallowed in more mud than the pig. And Ma got a blue ribbon for her pickled Possum Jam. We have lots left. Ma says if it keeps till December it’ll make some nice Christmas Presents for the family and closest friends.
All in all I say we had ourselves a real good time. And we’re already talking about next year.