More Neck Pimples

****In case you missed it the first time around.**** My next door elderly neighbor, Ms. Merlethem Shatz, cornered me up at the mailbox the other day and decided to tell me how she had been feeling recently. I normally try to avoid these conversations with her because whatever she tells me usually makes my skin crawl. This time was no exception. Neck pimples. That's what was ailing her this week; she had a big icky pimple on the back of her neck and she couldn't get it to pop. It was making her whole head hurt like she had a migraine or something. She asked me if I wanted to have a go at it (she's British) and I started to look at it before I caught myself. Sometimes, your curiosity can get the better of you and Merlethem realized that she had piqued my interest and started in on one of her stories. She's kind of like Rose from the Golden Girls and her stories about life back in St Olaf. "Back when I was a girl I had the worst time with pimples...or I think you call them zits now...blah, blah, blah" Goodness! I had to get out of there, and fast. "You don't have any Preparation H do you?" she asked. "What for?" I replied. "Well, I had a pimple on my bum a few years back and all I had was some Preparation H and I put it on the bump and it went right away." "No, luckily I haven't had a need for Preparation H. I don't have any hemorrhoids and I don't have pimples on my butt. I think they sell it at the drug store." "Okay, I better get down there before they close. Damn, my head hurts. You got any Goody Powders?" "No!" "What about Tylenol?" "No!" "Bayer?" "Excedrin?" "Aleve?" "I know you got some Doan's pills for your back that is always out when I ask you to carry something for me. Can I have one of them?" At that point she had followed me down my driveway and onto the new porch. "Merlethem, this is my house," I said. "Yours is over there." "How'd I get here?" she asked. "I told you that neck pimple was bothering me. I can't even find my own house. Are you sure you don't want to have a go at this thing?" Rrrrrrriiiinnnggggg. "Gotta go, someone is calling," I said. "Hello?" "Hi, this is Felicia from Proactive..."

What'd The Wedderman Say

"Lord, it's colder than a witch's titty, ain't it?" I heard somebody behind me say. Oh no, I knew that voice anywhere, it was my elderly neighbor, Merlethem Shatz. I've mentioned before that I usually try to avoid her because it's really hard to get away from her once she gets her claws into you. Today, was really not the day to be caught up in conversation because the weatherman said that we might get some frozen precipitation. In the south, that can only mean one thing: It's off to the store for bread and milk. I turned around to face Ms. Merlethem before I could stop myself. It's nothing personal but I didn't have time or didn't want to hear about her neck pimples or any other ailments she might have; but, it was too late. She'd seen my eyes, so off she went. "Back in the winter of '52, when I was a lass back in New Staffordshire, we didn't have all of the luxuries that you spoiled Yanks take for granted. We certainly didn't run off to the market whenever there was a hint that old Jack Frost might be dropping in for a visit." "Really, what'd you do?" I asked. "Well! For starters, we made our own bread and had a cow for our milk. None of this fancy bread like Whole Wheat, Potato Bread, or Honey Butter Bread that everyone is so fond of today. We used to call it hardtack or something; you could bounce it off the dirt floor and it would bounce right back to you. That's right, my house had a dirt floor, what do you think of that?" During Ms. Merlethem's rambling story I had picked up my gallon of milk and had worked my way over to the bread aisle with her following me the whole way. "You wanna know what I think of that? I think you talk too much and I've just got the last loaf of bread. Now, whatcha think about that?"