By Allen Hamrick
Hey folks, Zeb here tryin’ to pencil out a story that may be of an interest to ya. Lew is takin’ a break from scratchin’ his stories down due to his ink bowl went dry. I aint much of a story teller like Lew, but I’m gonna give it my best shot. Lew and me was a settin’ on the back porch whittlin’ out some new plugs we are gonna introduce to the basses come spring and tryin’ to figure out what great infermation we could relay to you folks. Well, we figured this time of the year, people are gittin’ sick with the bug and all other sorts of ailments. Why just last week Pap’s boy Pip plopped in bed pleadin’ for pills for the plausie. Plausie is one of those sicknesses that makes ya sicker than a buzzard eatin’ good food or Mr. Rood Dellar fillin’ up at the road kill buffet at Lolie’s Grill. A person jest turns inside out like ya pulled the skin off yer back and over yer head. It’s a terrible sickness that we jest can’t figur’ out what causes it. Best guess is that it most always comes after gettin’ a hair cut and a shave from Pap’s barber shop.
So, we decided to let you in on a not so well known secret cure for jest about anything that ails ya; her name is Granny Izzle. Granny Izzle was born in 1837 best we can tell according to all the wrinkles on her face. We counted them once like you count the rings on a tree stump, and 1837 is what we come up with. She lives in a town called Outhouse Flatts with a population of 1. She is the lone survivor of a town that, accordin’ to the stories, once had a population of about 200 people with only 183 outhouses to give the people relief. The town had its faults and was one outhouse visit from disappearin’ off the map. It happened around’ 1857 when the 17 people who didn’t have an outhouse to call their own started a movement to wipe out those that did. A great fight started with each person guarding the one thing they had of value… their outhouse. The town set right on the river. As the fight raged, it started to rain, and the people took to the hills jest before their living quarters was wiped out by the flood of 1857. The only thing left standing was 183 outhouses and Granny Izzle’s house high on the hillside. Interestingly enough, they stand to this day.
Granny Izzle is a tall, thin gal with more hair than she has skin, and she keeps fit by indulgin’ in her elixers and combin’ the hillsides for her medicine. Her fingers are long enough to wrap around the biggest apple on the tree, and she is bare foot most of the seasons except for winter when she wears her bear skin mukaluks. She has doctored most everybody at one time or another as she pedaled her wares across the mountains. One of her elixers is called Cuttleuce Bitter Sweet or CBS for short. A medicine so powerful it was sprayed in the face of a chargin’ killer bear once, and it went to sleep while it was runnin’ and hit a tree head on knockin’ it cold as a hammer. It once put a whole neighborhood to sleep for a week due to them not readin’ the directions first. Story goes the whole neighborhood was down with the flu so bad that a person couldn’t come within a mile of their homes without comin’ down sick to. Granny walked in, unafraid of the virus, and proceeded to dish out the medicine one teaspoon at a time. It allowed each person about three hours rest per teaspoon. They loved it so much that they figured a tablespoon would be much better, but instead of three hours, it wuz a week before they all woke up. It was plenty of time for the flu to run its course, though.
Granny Izzle runs her medicine shop from inside an old mine. This way she said her medicine can stay nice and cool. She makes her own vinager and cider – soft, medium, hard and very hard. The very hard is only used for veternary use and used sparingly due to its super fizzy state. It was once used to blow a stump out of the ground, and the user saved enough for himself but was never heard from again.
So, Granny was called on to cure Pip of the plausie. She came in barefooted, and her hair looked as though the wind decided on what the style wuz for the day. Her goat was totin’ her medicine on its back, and it looked as though its legs would give out at anytime under the load. Her medicine for the plausie is a humdinger. She calls it the Hill Billy Shuck and Shoot, another powerful stomach medicine that, when taken, you roll, run, hop or fly to the nearest outhouse. The only thing is she has to give some of her CBS before the HBSnS because the taste of it can make you sicker than the plausie. Pip was cured within a couple of hours, and Granny and her goat slowly walked back to Outhouse Flatts.
Granny told us in no way could we give out the recipes; as if we even knew them. Some of her medicine available on the shelves at her shop are Cuttleuce Bitter Sweet, which aides in pain relief as well as sleep, Hill Billy Shuck and Shoot for the stomach, Brain Away for sinuses and Bottled Forge for use in arthuritus and rhumatizm. One more we can’t forget about is called Volcano Snowfall Vinager that is good for daily use. It goes down hot, killin’ just about anything that lives and then cools off leavin’ you with a pep in your step. That is if you don’t over do it. All these medicines have to be taken as directed, otherwise you may find yourself on the business end of a stick of dynomite.
Granny is a legend around here and is always there to help. We just gave her a birthday party, and we all pitched in to buy the candles – all 184 of them. It was a huge cake, but it fed the nearly 300 people that come out. She insisted she was just 91 years old, but we know better. We counted the wrinkles! I could tell you some great stories of Granny Izzle and her healing ways, but my ink bowl is almost drained. Until next time, don’t forget your grannies. They may know a heap more than how to cook a biscut. Stay safe and keep an eye out for the plausie; you may not have the Hill Billy Shuck n Shoot to save ya. She is our granny, after all.
