 
Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

By Bobby A. Troutt

Copyright 2013 Bobby A. Troutt

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Bridge Over Mossey Creek

The Early Bird and the Late Worm

The Lighthouse Legend of Hemlock Back

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

The Parable of the Plum and Pear Trees

(Based on a True Story)

Rufus and the Willow Creek Church

George and the Princess

Popcorn the Scarecrow

Giblet Gravy and Fried Goosle

A Christmas with no Gifts

Who Took the Jingle Out of the Bell?

What Happened to the Jolly Holly, Jingle Jingle

And Ho, Ho, Ho in Christmas?

The Wrapping May Have Been Cheap but the Gift Was Precious

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

Bridge Over Mossey Creek

Mossey Creek was a small community that sat nestled in the valley of Dry Rock. It was an island separated from the mainland by Mossey Creek which flowed around it. That's how the town got its name. It was a lively little town with all its shops and friendly people. The island was connected to the mainland by a swinging bridge built years ago when Robert Lee was a small boy. The swinging bridge was the only way to and from the island; it was the highlight of the town. The island and the creek were decorated with beautiful flowers, vines and Spanish moss that dangled from the trees and blew in the wind.

Robert Lee was a tall, lanky man with long, wavy black hair. His bushy eyebrows rose above his wire rimmed glasses when he smiled. He always tipped his hat to the ladies as they passed. Good day, ladies, he would always say. The women would just smile and giggle as they continued on their way.

When he was a boy, he dreamed he would grow up to be the bridge keeper. And, he did. He was known as the best bridge keeper around. Robert Lee loved Mossey Creek and all the people who lived there. However, he loved the old swinging bridge the most. It was his friend, his job and his life.

In its day, the swinging bridge was the highlight of the town. People from all around would travel back and forth over it to Mossey Creek to shop at the wonderful stores. In the summertime, children would jump off the bridge into the creek below to swim. To others, it was a great place to fish from.

Yes, Robert Lee was a proud bridge keeper. He put his heart in to his work. He saw that the bridge was in tiptop shape. His main priority was to get people back and forth across the bridge safely. He worked hard to keep the bridge in "A-1" condition. He replaced boards when they cracked and broke. He made sure the cables and ropes were always in the best shape. He greeted everyone who traveled across the bridge with a warm smile and pleasant hello. Everyone loved Robert Lee as much as they looked forward to crossing the old swinging bridge.

One day, Mayor O'Brian and the town council gathered to discuss the old swinging bridge. They wanted to tear it down and build a new bridge made of concrete.

"It will be wider, stronger and more up-to-date," stated Mayor O'Brian as he addressed the council.

Mayor O'Brian was a short, chubby man with deep-set eyes that bugged out every time he stooped over. His jolly round face lit up each time he giggled.

"I agree with the mayor," shouted one of the council members as the others continued discussing the matter.

"Let's do it!" another member yelled.

"Hear, hear," cried Mayor O'Brian. "Let's vote on it. All in favor of the new bridge say aye!"

"Aye!" yelled all the members.

"Opposed," said Mayor O'Brian.

All was quiet. The town council voted unanimously to build the new bridge. They believed it would improve the town and bring in more people to their businesses. It wasn't long until the news spread across Mossey Creek that the mayor and the town council voted to tear the old swinging bridge down to make way for the new bridge. The people of Mossey Creek had mixed emotions. There were some for it and others against it. When Robert Lee and a few others heard the news, they tried to talk the mayor and the council out of tearing the old swinging bridge down. They talked and talked, pleaded and begged them to spare the old swinging bridge. Robert Lee told them the new concrete bridge would be wider, stronger and more up-to-date but the old swinging bridge was a part of the town and it had helped make the town what it was.

After careful consideration of what Robert Lee said, Mayor O'Brian and the town council decided to keep the old swinging bridge. They decided to build the new concrete bridge down the creek from the old swinging bridge. The town worked hard to build the concrete bridge. Everyone pitched in to help except Robert Lee. He watched from afar and patiently waited for its completion. After several weeks, the bridge was complete. The day the new bridge opened, Mayor O'Brian christened it and gave a dedication speech. The concrete bridge became the talk of the town. Robert Lee and the old swinging bridge was only a memory.

Robert Lee was no quitter. He continued to take care of the old swinging bridge even though not too many people crossed it anymore. In the summer the children jumped off the concrete bridge instead of the old swinging bridge and people also came to fish from it. As time passed, fewer and fewer people used the old swinging bridge. Eventually, no one came at all. If Robert Lee knew anything it was bridges. He saw that the concrete bridge was poorly built and very unsafe. He warned the mayor and the townspeople about the bridge; it was dangerous. The mayor and the townspeople laughed at him and called him a sore loser. They told him the concrete bridge was solid as a rock.

Years rolled by and the time came for Robert Lee to retire. There wasn't much need of a bridge keeper anymore. He often thought of the glory days of the old swinging bridge and his fond memories as the bridge keeper. As time passed, the old swinging bridge sat idle across Mossey Creek. It was covered with rust and Spanish moss; it rotted away.

All was peaceful in the little town of Mossey Creek. Everyone was happy, business was good and the town was booming. Suddenly, one night without warning, a mighty storm hit Mossey Creek and crippled the whole island. It was awful. The storm brought in driving rain, roaring thunder and dancing lightning bolts. The wind ripped through the town and destroyed nearly everything in its path. The storm had caught everyone off guard. Everyone was running around screaming and crying as they tried to find a way to get to the mainland. Everyone in town pressed toward the concrete bridge. The angry wind and driving rain blew hard against the concrete bridge and caused it to be washed away right before their eyes.

"What are we going to do?" screamed one of the townspeople. "How will we get across to the mainland?"

"I don't know," cried another. "If we don't do something, we are going to be washed away."

Boom blasted the thunder as lightning streaked across the sky. The townspeople huddled together as the mighty winds blew.

"Stay close together," one cried. "We need to huddle together in a circle."

"How are we going to get across the flooded creek?" questioned another.

"What about the old swinging bridge?" someone asked.

"It hasn't been used in years," cried Mayor O'Brian. "I don't know if it's safe."

"Let's try the old swinging bridge," Robert Lee said as he ran up. "I believe it's strong enough to get us across."

"Are you sure?" questioned Mayor O'Brian.

"I still believe in it," cried Robert Lee.

As the angry winds blew and the heavy rain continued to beat down, the water rose higher and higher.

"The island is almost flooded!" someone yelled.

"We'll have to give the old swinging bridge a try!" yelled Mayor O'Brian. "We don't have any other choice."

"Let's go," cried Robert Lee. "Follow me. Stay as close together as you can and hold hands."

The townspeople fought their way through the storm and struggled against the winds to get to the old swinging bridge. Finally, they reached it.

"Let me go first," instructed Robert Lee, "so I can see if it is safe enough to cross!"

He stepped onto the bridge and started walking across. The wind and rain blew hard against him and drove him back. Suddenly, one of his feet fell through one of the old rotten boards. He held on tight as the bridge swung with the wind. He finally pulled himself up and continued to struggle across to the other side. Once he reached the other side safely, he turned around and went back for the others.

"I believe it is sturdy enough for us to cross," Robert Lee shouted. "Everyone, please be careful and watch your step. Hold on to the cable and walk slowly."

"Hurry!" screamed the mayor. "The water is rising fast."

One by one, the townspeople stepped onto the swinging bridge. As the people crossed, the storm raged on. The old swinging bridge popped, cracked and snapped. It swung to the left and then to the right as the raging winds blew.

"Move with the swing!" shouted Robert Lee. "Move with the swing!"

The townspeople held on for life and rode the mighty storm out. Finally, the storm passed; everything quieted down.

"Listen," whispered Robert Lee. "I believe the storm is over."

"I believe you are right, Robert Lee," replied Mayor O'Brian. "We are all safe; we made it through the storm thanks to you, Robert Lee, and the old swinging bridge."

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

The Early Bird and the Late Worm

It was a hot summer day; the sun stretched across the golden meadow in the small community of Willow Brook Lane. Skillet Creek ran through it and fed the meadow nestled between Hog Hollow and a cornfield. It was the home of many animals including squirrels, rabbits, deer, skunks and possums, just to name a few. It was also the home of Fred the bird and Willie the worm.

Fred was an old and feeble bird. He lived by himself in a nest at the top of an old sycamore tree that stretched across the creek. Fred was a robin. He had no family; they had all grown up and flew away. He always told people they had flew the coop. Even though he laughed about it, he was sad inside because he was all alone. He could barely chirp, was awfully forgetful, nearly blind and hard of hearing. Not to mention, his flight was wobbly. Fred could not see his beak in front of his face so he used a magnifying glass to help him see. He'd always said huh, huh, when someone said anything to him and then finally answer them with a low, soft crackly voice. But, although his chirp was weak and faint he flew clumsily this way and that. However, it did not hold him back. Even though when he was out flying about, he'd have to stop here and there to take a little nap. He loved to sleep; it was his favorite thing to do. However, he still managed to get up early each morning before sunrise. Each morning, he piddled about as he flew across the meadow looking for something to have for dinner and singing his favorite song, I'll Fly Away. If he was lucky, he would catch a bug or two. In reality, he was actually looking for someone to have dinner with him.

The other animals and birds liked old Fred. They had all been friends for a long time. Now, Willie the worm was the exact opposite of him. He was younger, quicker and very smart for a red worm. Not only that, he was extremely slick and a smooth talker. He lived in a hole beneath the ground in the meadow. But, Willie was a late sleeper. He liked to sleep late, especially during the weekend when he'd been out all night with his friends, a couple of night crawlers.

As Fred flew about the meadow, he happened to land near a colony of worm holes. He looked about, eased up to the holes and placed his magnifying glass up to one of his eyes and held the other eye closed. As he looked around inside the holes, he noticed signs hanging from them. The signs each had something different on them. One had vacant. The second had crawled on. The third had for rent. Another had foreclosure. And the last one had do not disturb. Suddenly, he heard a faint sound coming from the do not disturb hole. What is it? he thought. It sounds like someone snoring. Cautiously, he leaned over into the hole and looked through his magnifying glass. He couldn't see much so he switched on the tiny light of his magnifying glass. With his tiny eye, he looked around the dark hole and saw Willie asleep in his bed. Quietly, he pressed his ear against the hole and listened before he eased away and picked up his homemade fishing pole. He cast the hook and line above his head. Unfortunately, he let it go too soon. The line wrapped around his head and the hook dangling off the end of his beak. Phooey, Fred said to himself as he grabbed the empty hook. I guess I will try this again. He giggled to himself and looked about to make sure no one saw him. He cast his hook and line again. This time he made sure he let go of the line at the right time. The hook and line flew freely toward the hole, bounced off the edge and fell inside. Unknowingly to Fred, the hook hit Willie's head so hard it woke him up and left a knot on top of his head. Willie let out a quiet ouch! He crawled onto the hook to see what was going on; he jerked the line to let whoever it was know something was on the hook. Fred reared back with a smile and quickly reeled in the line. Willie was so slippery he was able to wiggle off the hook and crawl up the pole to the top of the hole. He peeped out of the hole to see what was going on and noticed Fred with his homemade rod and reel. So, Willie decided to have a little fun with Fred.

The scorching hot sun beamed down on Fred. He had to stop to catch his breath for a minute before he cast out his line again. After a brief rest, he cast his line once more; it darted down into the worm hole. When the hook landed in the hole, Willie took it, crossed over into another hole and came up behind Fred. Willie quietly sneaked up behind him and hooked the fish onto Fred's leg. Then he eased back down into the hole and jerked the line. When Fred felt the line jerk, he immediately snatched the line as hard and fast as he could because he thought he had caught a worm. Instead, when he jerked the line, his feet flew out from under him and caused him to fall on his back with his feet up in the air. Dazed and confused, he slowly raised up and the hook once again dangled from his beak. Fred took a deep breath and exhaled which only made things worse; the hook wrapped around his beak.

"Phooey," he said. "Phooey, phooey, phooey on me," cried Fred. "Why do I even try?"

Fred didn't know what he was going to do for dinner. As he sit there wondering what he was going to do next, he thought he heard something. Psst! Psst! it sounded. Fred looked toward the worm hole but couldn't see anything. He took out his magnifying glass, placed it up to his eye and looked toward the worm hole again.

"Psst, psst, over here," Willie said. "I'm over here."

Fred looked a little closer and saw Willie's head sticking out of the hole.

"Oh, by the way," said Willie, "is it Fred or Freddie?"

"It's Fred."

"Well, I like Freddie," Willie said. "Do you mind if I call you Freddie?"

"Well, I guess Freddie will be okay. What's your name, worm?" asked Fred.

"My friends call me Willie but you can call me Will."

"Okay, Will," said Freddie.

"You know, Freddie, I'm new to this meadow. I have only been here a few weeks."

"I didn't think I had seen you before," replied Freddie. "It's nice to meet you."

"I have only made a few friends since I've been here. They told me about you."

"They did," replied Freddie.

"Yeah, they did. They didn't have anything bad to say about you. They only had good things to say," Will explained.

"Really," said Freddie as his face blushed.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Will. "And my best friend from the nearby cornfield has told me a lot of good things about you," stated Will. His name is Grubbie; he is a grubbing worm."

"He is," replied Freddie.

"He is," repeated Will. "Freddie, what are you doing with this line and hook? Are you looking for dinner?"

"Sort of," replied Freddie. "Would you like to go home with me for dinner?"

"Let me see, you're looking for dinner," Will said, "and you want me to have dinner with you."

"Yeah, that's right," Freddie replied. "I'm all alone. It's just me and I have no one to share my dinner with."

"I believe I get the point," said Will. "Now, let me see. If I go home with you, I might be out on a limb," responded Will.

"Technically, I guess you're right because that's where my home is," Freddie said with a puzzled look, "duh!"

"Let me talk to my best friend, Grubbie, first. I think you're a really nice guy and everything but I need to discuss it with Grubbie before I make my decision. I'll meet you back here this afternoon and I'll let you know," stated Will.

"Okay," replied Freddie. "I'll see you later."

Freddie threw his head back, fluffed his feathers, shook his feet, raised his tail and flew off into the sky. Will watched the old bird as he flew away.

"See you later, you old buzzard," laughed Will.

Right after Freddie flew away, Grubbie crawled up to Will from amongst the weeds near the edge of the cornfield. Grubbie was a cool hip-hop grubbing worm. He wore dark glasses because when the sun shined down on the ears of corn in the cornfield, it nearly blinded him.

"What's up dude? What's going on with you and the old one?"

"Nothing much, he just wants me to come to his house for dinner. He's lonely and wants a little company."

"Are you going?" questioned Grubbie.

"I might," answered Will.

"Are you crazy, worm? He might be luring you out on a limb and into his tummy," said Grubbie. "If you haven't noticed, he is a bird, a hungry bird, and you are a worm. Birds eat worms, dude," warned Grubbie. "Instead of going for dinner you may wind up being dinner. Do you understand where I'm coming from?"

"Yeah," laughed Will, "but he's such a nice guy. Besides, he can't possibly do much to me; he's too old. He can hardly fly much less eat a worm."

"What if I'm right?" questioned Grubbie. "Do you think you'll be able to wiggle your way out of the situation? You're going to be awfully high up in a tree."

"Well, I didn't think about that," mumble Will. "But, I really want to help him out. Grubbie, what do you think I should do? Freddie will be back in a little while for my answer."

"Will, dude, since you really want to go, I suggest you just play along with him until you see you need to get out. If things get too rough, you can always grab a leaf from the tree, glide back to the ground and crawl into a nearby hole. I believe you'll have no problem finding one because you have already dug your hole by trying to play this game with him. Hey, man, getting off the subject. Let me tell you about the yummy corn in the cornfield. It is so sweet and juicy," Grubbie cried out as his mouth watered. "I do; I do love that peaches and cream corn. It is the best."

"But...but," stuttered Will.

"There are no buts about it," Grubbie interrupted. "Just go and see how it works out. Heck, he may not even come back. I have to get going," Grubbie said as he crawled off. "Good luck. If I don't see you anymore, it was nice knowing you," he said as he stopped and looked over his glasses at Will.

"Gee, thanks," replied Will. "That's not too encouraging."

It wasn't long after Grubbie left when Freddie came by for his answer.

"Well, Will, have you made up your mind?" asked Freddie. "I have the table already set."

"I was afraid of that," mumbled Will with a quivering voice. "I guess I'll go with you. Besides, I need a good meal."

"Okay, Will. Get on my back and we'll be off," instructed Freddie.

The two lifted off into the sky. Over the meadow they flew until they reached the top of the old sycamore tree.

"Here we are," said Freddie. "How do you like my nest, Will? Well, what do you think?" he asked.

"It's a long way up and even a longer way down," replied Will as he slowly opened his eyes and looked around.

Will quietly looked about to see if there were any leaves within his reach; he didn't see one leaf. He noticed Freddie's nest was made of broken twigs and withered grass held together with a little mud. And, he had a table sitting directly in the middle of the nest with no food on it.

"Come on," said Freddie. "You can sit on the edge of the nest while I finish setting the table."

Will slowly moved over to the nest as his eyes searched frantically for a leaf. But, he still didn't see one. He couldn't bare it any long; it was more than his nerves could take. He started apologizing to Freddie.

"Freddie, please forgive me," Will begged.

"Forgive you for what?" questioned Freddie.

"For playing games with you, please take me back to my hole in the ground," pleaded Will. "I'm really afraid of heights. Oh, please, oh, please help me down."

Freddie just looked at Will as his mouth watered and his eyes grew big. He still didn't understand why Will had suddenly gotten so paranoid.

"I can't bare it anymore," cried Will. "I'm so nervous; if I don't get out of her I'm going to pass out."

"Calm down, Will," comforted Freddie. "Hold on a second. Maybe this will help calm you down," he said as he placed a mud pie with coffee ground icing in front of Will.

"Here you go," stated Freddie. "I made it especially for you."

Will opened one eye and then the other. He looked at Freddie and said, "But, I thought you were going to have me for dinner."

"Oh, no, I mean oh, yes," replied Freddie. "Wait a minute; you must have misunderstood me. I wanted you to be my guest, not my dinner. I live by myself and I get lonesome a lot of the time."

"You mean all you wanted was my company," said Will.

"Why, yes," replied Freddie. "Did you really think I wanted to eat you?" asked Freddie.

"Well, duh," said Will, "a bird inviting a worm to dinner!"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't have tricked you like that, Will," explained Freddie. "Besides, worms are fattening and as old as I am I need to watch my weight. Plus, I can fly now. It was a struggle for me to get you up here."

"I'm sorry, Freddie," said Will. "Will you forgive me?"

"Sure," replied Freddie. "Go ahead, dig in. I hope you enjoy the pie."

"Oh, I know I will. By the way, Freddie, what are you having?" asked Will.

"I'm having a mixed bug sandwich with moths."

Will dove into the mud pie and yelled out, "Life is good!"

They settled into the nest and were laughing and enjoying their meal when they heard someone yelling from below.

"Hey up there!" yelled Grubbie. "How's it going? Will, are you okay?"

"I couldn't be better," replied Will. "I'm doing great and having a wonderful time."

"Oh, well," replied Grubbie, "I was worried about you so I decided to come and check on you to make sure you were alright."

"Why don't you come and join us," insisted Freddie. "I have never had two visitors in one day."

"No, thanks," replied Grubbie. "I think I'm in the mood for some popcorn."

Grubbie left and headed back across the meadow to the cornfield; he shook his head all the way to the cornfield.

"Young people, you can't tell them anything these days. Will had better be glad I wasn't right."

That evening, the hot summer sun blazed down on the cornfield. From across the meadow, Freddie and Will could hear the corn popping. Pop! Pop! Pop it went.

"I'm in heaven," sung Grubbie as his voiced carried in the wind.

Freddie and Will looked at each other when they heard Grubbie singing and started laughing.

"Those old people are something else," stated Will. "They think they know it all."

In the end, it was Freddie who truly did get the last laugh. I guess the old saying is true, thought Will; the early bird gets the worm.

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

The Lighthouse Legend of Hemlock Bay

Many years ago, in the days of pirates, there was a battle that took place in Hemlock Bay. The legend is told that the battle happened on a Friday the thirteenth in 1623. During the battle, the pirate ship was damaged and sank to the bottom of the bay. The unmarked graves on the shore of Hemlock Bay are said to be those of the pirates. It is told that the lighthouse lit up the bay that night and now, every Friday the thirteenth it lights up the bay in search of the lost ship and its crew. The legend has it that on this day, the sunken pirate ship rises up out of the bay and sails again with its crew of ghost pirates in search of the ship that caused it to sink. Today, the lighthouse is nothing but a stone ruin that sits upon the rocky coast of Hemlock Bay. The sunken pirate ship remains at the bottom of the bay; a wreckage of times long ago. Is it but a legend or is it true? Turn the pages and read the story. See what you believe!

Slim was a tall lanky man about six feet two inches tall. His long arms dangled by his side. His shirt sleeves were always pulled up above his wrists and his coat sleeves buckled at his elbows. Slim's long legs reached way out in front of him. With his pant legs up to his knees, his huge feet slapped down hard on the ground as he walked. He was not only slick in his ways but he was clever as well. When he put his mind to it, he could talk his way out of anything and ease out of any kind of trouble; he was a very fine talker. He was a happy go lucky, easy going fellow and he carried on without a care in the world. Yes, Slim was quite a fellow and everyone liked him. Whenever he walked down the street, he would tip his hat to the ladies and shake hands with the gentlemen.

One day when Slim was headed to the docks to watch the ships sail, he stopped in front of the bakery window and ran a comb through his wavy, dark hair. He looked at himself in the bakery window and fancied himself as quite a catch. He was startled when he heard a loud bark and felt something tugging on his pants leg. He looked down and saw his old traveling buddy, Hard-times, his dog.

Hard-times was Slim's best friend. They had been through a lot together. He was just a pup when Slim found him crawling out of a grass sack after someone had thrown him into the lake. That's how Slim came up with his name, Hard-times. Slim has had his close calls too and Hard- times has been there to pull him out of some tight spots. When Slim's fishing boat overturned, Hard-times helped him get to shore. Believe me, Hard-times has had his fair share of difficult times since he hooked up with Slim. Living with Slim was an everyday adventure. The young pup never knew what to expect from day to day. But, they sure had a lot of fun together! Slim loved Hard-times and Hard- times loved him just as much. The two of them together were really something.

One day, Slim and Hard-times were hanging around the pier watching the ships sail when Slim got an idea; he wanted to take a cruise. He carefully looked around and slowly inched his way closer and closer to one of the docked ships. When no one was looking, he and Hard-times jumped in the lifeboat and hid so no one could see them by covering themselves with the canvas. The lifeboat smelled like fresh sea water. Slim loved the smell of the salty sea.

A short time later, Slim heard one of the sailors yell, "All aboard!"

He laughed quietly to himself as Hard-times laid and looked at him with his head on his paws. The ship was alive with sailors as they scurried to set sail. Slim and Hard-times peeped out from under the canvas and looked over the edge of the lifeboat.

"Hoist the anchor. We're ready to sail," the captain told one of the sailors.

"Aye-aye sir," the sailor replied.

There was a loud noise and a great tug as the ship pulled anchor and sailed away from the dock. The two stowaways eased down in the lifeboat and tried to remain quiet in the darkness.

"Ruff, ruff," barked Hard-times.

Quickly, Slim took his hand and covered Hard-times' mouth.

"Shhh," he whispered. "Do you want to get us thrown off the ship?"

Hard-times just whined and wagged his tail. The waves splashed hard against the ship as it rocked back and forth and up and down. The ship rocked so much they both got seasick. Slowly, Slim pulled himself up, peeped over the side of the lifeboat and looked out at the open sea. He watched the white-capped waters as the waves splashed against the ship, rocking it back and forth and up and down.

"Ruff, ruff," barked Hard-times as he pulled on Slim's shirt tail.

Slim reached down and picked up Hard-times. They both hung their heads over the edge of the lifeboat; they were sicker than dogs which was easy for Hard-times. As the ship sailed on, Slim hung his head and moaned while Hard-times whined. Gradually, the sky turned dark as the wind howled and the waters became angry.

"It's a storm, Captain!" yelled one of the sailors.

"Batten down the hatches! Hold on tight!" screamed the captain. "We're going through a storm!"

The ship fought the wind and waves as it battled its way through the storm. The giant waves hit hard against the ship. The mighty wind blew and tossed the ship from one wave to another; the crew held on for their lives. As the storm raged, Slim and Hard-times tumbled back and forth in the bottom of the lifeboat. Unexpectedly, the lifeboat broke loose from the ship and fell into the angry sea. Tossed about by the waves and driven out to the open sea, Slim and Hard-times held on tight. Finally, the storm passed and the lifeboat floated calmly on the water. Slim reached up and threw the canvas back so he could look around. The ship was gone! It was nowhere in sight. All he could see was water that stretched for miles.

Days passed as they floated further and further out to sea. Hungry and thirsty, Slim had all but given up hope. Fog rolled in and night fell once more. They slowly floated through the fog. Without warning, Hard-times started barking. Slim rose up quickly to see what it was; he saw nothing.

"Ruff, ruff," barked Hard-times again as he scratched at the bottom of the boat.

"What is it?" asked Slim as he looked again. "What do you see, boy?"

Finally, Slim saw it to. It was a dim light flashing through the fog.

"A-hoy!" yelled Slim.

But, all was quiet.

"A-hoy!" he yelled again.

The light got brighter when a voice from the fog cried "A-hoy mate!"

"Over here!" yelled Slim as Hard-times barked louder and louder. "Over here!" he yelled as he waved his arms back and forth in the air.

The voice from the fog cried, "Grab hold of the rope and I will pull you in."

The rope sailed through the air. Slim grabbed it and held on as tight as he could and Hard-times held on to Slim's pants leg. Slowly, the lifeboat moved closer and closer to the light. Slim looked and suddenly saw a large black mast in front of him. He looked again, rubbed his eyes and then swallowed hard as the bright light shone on top of the huge torn mast and a Jolly Roger flag.

"A-hoy," Slim said with a cracking voice.

As they pulled up beside the ship, all was quiet. Carefully and shakily, Slim and Hard-times climbed aboard the ship and looked around; they saw no one. The ship was covered with moss. As it floated on the water, it cracked, snapped and popped.

"A-hoy!" yelled Slim.

But, there was no answer. As he stood upon the deck of the ship, he heard the night wind ripping through the torn mast above. The boards under his feet creaked as his knees knocked. Flash went the light through the night without warning, lighting up the pirate ship. Suddenly, Slim heard the dragging of a chain and a thump. He quickly looked to his right and then his left as his long legs trembled uncontrollably. Hard-times ran and hid behind Slim. Thump, thump, thump, flash went the light and clang went the chain.

"A...a...a-hoy," stuttered Slim.

The chain and thumping stopped. The light flashed once more.

"A-hoy mate," cried a voice out of the darkness.

Slim shook in his shoes and Hard-times ran and hid behind a barrel. Slim saw a tall shadow standing before him. The moonlight hit the metal of a big sword that was raised under Slim's chin.

"I say, mates, shall we make the blooming sea dog walk the plank?"

Hard-times ran out from behind the barrel, barked and growled at the shadow. The shadow turned and glared at Hard-times. Hard-times yelped and ran back behind the barrel, quivering. Slim was frozen in his tracks; he couldn't move. As sweat ran from his forehead, his eyes surveyed the ship. Ghosts popped up from everywhere.

"Does he walk the plank mates?" the voice asked again.

The ghosts moved in closer. Slim didn't know what to do. I've got to do something, he thought to himself. Think Slim; think, you dummy.

"I say sea dog, what do you have to say for yourself?" roared the voice.

Slim gulped really big. He looked around, wiped the sweat from his brow, jumped high in the air, landed on his two big feet and slapped his knee with his hand.

"LET'S PARTY!" he yelled out.

As Slim danced around, the ghosts looked at one another and yelled, "LET'S BOOGIE!"

The light came on and lit up the old pirate ship as Slim and Hard-times danced with their new friends. Four ghosts dressed in sailor suits popped up; it was the Boo's Brothers. They started singing and dancing. The night rolled on as they danced, laughed and partied. It was a night to remember. Gradually, the sun appeared as the ship sailed into Hemlock Bay. The party slowly died down when the ship started sinking.

"Come on Hard-times!" yelled Slim.

They jumped from the ship and swam to shore. When they reached the shore, they watched as the ship gradually disappeared into the deep blue water. The flashing bright light from the lighthouse went dark.

"Can you believe that, Hard-times?" asked Slim.

Totally fatigued, Slim collapsed and fell asleep. It had all finally caught up with him. However, it wasn't long before Slim was awakened by someone yelling.

A-hoy, a-hoy!" they yelled.

Slim raised up and looked out from the lifeboat. He saw a big ship coming up beside them.

"Are you alright, sir!" yelled the captain.

"I'm fair," cried Slim as the crew helped him and Hard-times aboard the ship.

"Do you know how long we have been out here?" Slim as the captain.

"I don't know," replied the captain. "But, I'd say it's been awhile."

"Captain," asked Slim, "what day is it?"

"Well, let's see," said the Captain. "Oh, yes, it's Saturday the 14th," he stated. "Why do you ask?"

Slim looked out across the sea and then turned to the Captain.

"There's a lighthouse out there not far from here," explained Slim.

"Oh, yes," said the Captain. "You must be talking about the lighthouse of Hemlock Bay. It hasn't been working for hundreds of years. It's nothing but a stone ruin," said the Captain.

Slim paused for a moment and thought. Ah heck. He wouldn't believe me anyway. Yep, it's just a stone ruin. Hard-times eased over to Slim and lay at his feet without making a sound. Is it but a legend or is it true?

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

There came a time when the Wise Man sat quietly in his study behind his giant, oak desk. He was studying to learn more about everything to become wiser. In his study, he was surrounded by all kinds of books that reached from the top of his desk to the ceiling. The walls were lined with books of every subject. His study was a library of knowledge.

The Wise Man was a clever old fox and sharp as a tack. He was a tall, thin man with long, stringy white hair. He had a long nose, black busy eyebrows and big dark eyes. His glasses sat snuggled on the tip of his nose. He was a wise old owl. He didn't allow anything to get the best of him and he loved a challenge. Each day, he would read for a while, study and then think. He would ease from his desk and quietly walk around the room. Huh, he would say to himself with a sneaky grin on his face. Then he would stretch back in his chair and think some more. He wasn't a fool; he was quite wise. A bookworm some would say.

The Wise Man was highly respected by his friends and neighbors. If anyone had an unanswered question, they went to him. He always seemed to have the answer. Many times, the Wise Man would think on an idea for weeks and months at a time. He would study the idea thoroughly and check each and every angle to be sure he understood it correctly and hadn't missed anything. There was one thing the Wise Man was more afraid of than anything and that was to be wrong. To be wrong was his worst nightmare.

Abruptly one day, while the Wise Man was studying, they were two boys outside his window arguing. One was Jackie, a black curly headed boy with glasses and the other was Billy, Jackie's red-headed, freckled-face friend.

As the Wise Man sat at desk, he could hear them arguing back and forth. What do we have here" he asked himself. Is it an unanswered question? Maybe I can be of a little assistance to these boys or even possibly some help. The Wise Man quietly tiptoed over to the window and slowly raised it without the boys even noticing. As he started to poke his head outside the window, he hit the top of his head.

"Ouch!" he screamed.

Quickly, he pulled his head back inside and rubbed it with his hands.

"Whew," he went. "That hurt."

Jackie and Billy immediately stopped arguing. All was quiet as they looked at each other. Within a few minutes, the Wise Man slowly eased his head out once more with a big smile on his face. The Wise Man thought to himself, I have a chance to show these two boys how smart I am. He liked to do that, you know.

"Jackie and Billy," questioned the Wise Man as he cleared his throat and rubbed his head. "What seems to be the problem?"

He paused a few minutes and waited for them to reply. But, they didn't.

"Would there be anything that I can help you with?" he asked as his eyes searched from one to the other and awaited an answer. "Boys, I am very smart," he said with a squeaky, high voice." Once again, he cleared his throat and said, "What seems to be the problem, boys?"

"Mr. Wise Man, we have been wondering which came first the chicken or the egg," spoke up Jackie.

"Jackie said the egg came first and I say the chicken did. Which do you say came first?" Billy questioned.

The Wise Man looked back and forth at the two boys. He took a long, hard swallow and a deep, long breath. He was speechless; he didn't know the answer!!! He had no idea what to say.

"Yep, Mr. Wise Man. You are a smart man and very wise," declared Jackie. You know everything. Which do you say came first?"

Baffled by the question, the Wise Man raised up suddenly. He forgot about the window above and banged his head again. Bang!

"Ouch," he cried.

He jerked his head back inside the window. Which came first, he thought. Was it the chicken or the egg? He peeped back out the window at the boys.

"Let me think on it for a while, boys. I'll get back with you," he stated.

The two boys told him they would come back later for the answer. They took off to play and left the Wise Man with the question; which came first the chicken or the egg.

The Wise Man was wise or at least he thought he was until Jackie and Billy's question stumped him. He could tell you how planes flew, how ships sailed and how rockets soared to the moon. He was also a mathematical genius. He studied twenty different languages and spoke them fluently. He could build or do anything. There was nothing that stood in his way except one thing, which came first the chicken or the egg.

"I have never been asked such a stupid question," he laughed as he slapped the top of his head with his hand. "Did the chicken come before the egg? Or, did the egg come before the chicken? Hmmm," he grinned as he peered about the room to see if anyone was looking. Then he whispered softly, "I don't know the answer," he said as he paced back and forth across the room scratching his head. "What am I to do?" he cried. "I can't let this get the best of me. Think! Think! Think!" he cried as he wrung his hands. "What am I to do? That's it!" he yelled and immediately placed his hand over his mouth, afraid someone might have heard him. "That's a great idea," he calmly whispered. "I am so wise," he said with a grin.

Hurriedly, he made his way over to his desk and started rummaging through his books.

"The answer has to be here in these books and I have to find it," he cried.

Each time the Wise Man finished with a book, he would pitch it aside. He threw some to the side and some over his shoulder. Books were laying everywhere on the floor. When he finished the last book on his desk, he still hadn't found what he was looking for.

"The answer has to be here," he yelled, "but, where?"

Frantically, he searched the room until finally, on the very top shelf in the corner, he saw it. The book was sitting on the edge of the shelf.

"Here it is," the Wise Man sighed in relief as he reached for the book. "I can find my answer in here. I may be wise, but I am no fool." He paused for a second and said, "Or, am I?"

Carefully, he leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath and blew the dust off his Bible.

"Achoo," he sneezed.

He carefully cleaned his glasses and gently placed them on his face.

"Now, let's see," he said with a smile.

He opened the Bible and began to read. He flipped through page after page and then he suddenly stopped.

"Here it is," he cried, "just what I've been looking for. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth."

He continued to read. After a short while, he leaned forward and placed the Bible down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. With his glasses gritted between his teeth, he meditated a while on what he had read. The hours passed quickly. The grandfather clock chimed the hours away, tick tock, tick tock. The coo-coo clock hanging on the wall near his desk went coo-coo, coo- coo. But still, he had no answer. The Wise Man started reading again. He read until his eyes were red from strain. Unfortunately, but he still didn't find the answer to the boys' question. For the first time in his life, he was between a rock and a hard place. He didn't know what to do or where to turn. How is such a simple question so hard to answer, he thought.

Time soon passed and Jackie and Billy came back to see the Wise Man for the answer to their question.

"Mr. Wise Man!" yelled the boys from outside the window.

The Wise Man got up from his desk and nervously looked around. Think, think! he mumbled to himself. I have to tell them something. What can I say? They will think I'm not wise. Think!" he cried with his hands on top of his head.

Nervously, he slipped over to the window, raised it and stuck his head outside.

"Well, Mr. Wise Man, have you decided who was right?" questioned Jackie.

"Well, Jackie," he replied. "Didn't God, in the beginning, create the heavens and the earth?"

The boys looked at each other and then looked up at the Wise Man.

"Yes, sir," they each answered.

"Couldn't God have created the chicken and then the chicken laid the egg?"

"Are you sure, Mr. Wise Man?" asked Jackie.

The Wise Man rose up and hit his head on the window.

"Ouch!" He nervously gulped and with a quivering voice he answered, "Yep, I believe that was the way it was."

Sweat ran down his brow as he watched the reaction of the two boys. He hoped they believed him and wouldn't second guess his answer.

"I told you, Jackie!" yelled Billy. "The chicken came first." Billy turned to the Wise Man and said, "We were wondering about something else. We hope you can help us with something else we have been arguing about. Do you think you will be able to help us?"

"Well, I don't know," the Wise Man snickered. "I guess I can," he laughed as he tried not to show he was afraid of what they might ask. "Oh, silly me," fidgeted the Wise Man. "What would your question be?" he asked.

"Actually, we have two questions. We want to know how in the world Noah got all those animals in the ark. And, if the world was completely covered by water, where did it all go?" asked Jackie.

The Wise Man rose up and quickly pulled his head inside. But, this time, he managed to keep from hitting his head on the window.

"I must think quickly," he mumbled. "I have to give them an answer. Let's see, Jackie and Billy," said the Wise Man as he popped his head out the window once more, "It's not meant for us to know and understand everything," he replied. "What's important is that God is still in control even in times when we are between a rock and a hard place."

The two boys couldn't believe how wise he was. Jackie and Billy thanked the Wise Man and left. The Wise Man closed the window, locked it and pulled the curtain. He went back to his desk and let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Praise the Lord," he shouted. "I'm glad I don't know as much as I think."

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

The Parable of the Plum and Pear Trees

(Based on a True Story)

Winter had come to the little community of Coatstown. The first snow of the season had already fallen. Everyone was ready for winter. But, they were already looking forward to spring, especially little Willie. He loved the outdoors. He loved to run and play. Willie liked winter but not as much as spring, summer and fall.

Willie sat around one day and tried to think of things to do. He wished that he had a new hobby. He wanted something he could do all by himself. Something he had never done before, a pet project. He thought and thought. What can I possibly do?" he asked himself. I have played ball, collected cards and I have all kinds of model cars, he thought. I wonder what else I can do. Little Willie had no idea what he could do until he was thumbing through some old magazines. Suddenly, a certain page caught his eye.

"That's it!" he shouted as his little heart filled with joy. "I'm going to plant me some fruit trees," cried little Willie. "I'll have apples, peaches, plums, pears and cherries to eat this spring," he proclaimed. "I'll get me some trees and plant them. They will get big and I'll have plenty of fruit to eat and share with my friends."

Little Willie's joy was suddenly cut short. A sad frown came across his face. I don't have enough money to buy any trees, he thought. What am I going to do? Little Willie thought for a minute before he raised his head and smiled. I know what I'll do, he said to himself. I'll work some odd jobs to get enough money to buy some trees. When spring comes, I'll be ready to plant them.

That winter, little Willie worked odd jobs. He shoveled snow, packed in firewood and worked part-time in the local grocery store as a sack boy.

Time passed and the winter snows had all but melted away. The crisp air of spring had come again to Coatstown with the chirping of the birds and blooming flowers everywhere. All during the winter, little Willie had worked hard to earn enough money to buy his fruit trees. He read many books on how to take care of fruit trees. He wanted to know everything he could so his trees would produce abundantly. He wanted to raise the best fruit trees and have the finest orchard around.

Finally, the big day came. Little Willie's hard work had finally paid off. Early one morning, Willie's dad drove him to the nursery so he could by his trees. At the nursery, little Willie carefully examined each young (whip) tree. He wanted to choose the very best trees for his orchard. After carefully looking at all the trees, little Willie chose five. He chose an apple, peach, plum, pear and cherry tree.

"Dad!" he exclaimed. "These are the ones for me."

"Okay, Willie," replied his dad. "You know what you want."

Willie reached into his pocket, pulled out his money and paid for his trees. Little Willie couldn't wait to get home to dig his first hole and plant his first tree. He was so excited; he couldn't talk about anything else. When they arrived home, Willie took the young whips down to the edge of the yard and laid them down.

"Do you need any help, Willie?" yelled his dad.

"No thanks, Dad. I think I can do it," he replied. "Thanks anyway."

As his dad went inside the house, the tip of Willie's shovel went into the ground. Deeper and deeper little Willie dug the holes. He wanted them to be the perfect size for his trees. Hole after hole, five in all, he dug and tree after tree he planted. Finally, little Willie had finished planting all of his trees. As he watered each of them, he pictured in his mind a beautiful orchard with beautiful fruit. I can almost taste the delicious fruit, he drooled. It will take three years for the first fruits to bear, he thought to himself. But, it will be worth the wait.

The years soon slipped away. The first year flew by. Little Willie had taken good care of the trees; he kept them sprayed and pruned. The second year rolled by and the trees continued to grow. Little Willie worked diligently on his pet project. In one more year, little Willie's handiwork would pay off.

Everything was good until the end of the second year. He noticed one of the trees looked sick. Willie became worried. He tried everything he could to help the tree but nothing seemed to work. Oh, no, he cried to himself. I hope I don't lose my plum tree. The more he tried to help the tree, the worse it became. Willie tried everything. He didn't know what else he could do. One night as he lay in his bed worrying about the plum tree, he prayed. God, he prayed, please don't let my plum tree die. I have worked so hard to get my trees. Please help me, he said to himself as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Weeks later, the plum tree was about the same. Day after day, little Willie prayed unto the Lord that He would not let his plum tree die. Each day, he checked on the plum tree; there was no change. Winter had set in and little Willie had done all that he could for his plum tree. However, he kept on praying. It was a hard winter that year. But, spring finally came. The young fruit trees had begun to bud. Little Willie ran out to his orchard to check on his trees. The plum tree still looked bad. Little Willie had no other choice but to ask his dad to take a look at his plum tree.

"Dad," he asked, "will you come and take a look at my plum tree and tell me what's wrong with it?"

His Dad looked at the young whip and thought a minute.

"Willie," he replied, "this is not a plum tree; it's a pear tree."

"Oh no, Dad," he said as he pointed to another tree. "That's my pear tree over there."

"I'm sorry, Willie, to be the one to tell you. This is definitely a pear tree you asked me to look at and that is a plum tree you are pointing to," his dad stated.

Little Willie had been so worried that he got his trees mixed up. The plum tree he had prayed for had outgrown all the other trees. So, God had answered his prayers. That night, little Willie prayed and thanked the Lord for answering his prayers. He told the Lord he was sorry for getting the trees mixed up. Lord, prayed little Willie, will you please help my pear tree grow as well as my plum tree?

Matthew 7:7-9

Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asked receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.

Days later, little Willie went out to his orchard to check on his trees. He was amazed at what he saw. Quickly, he took off running toward the house as fast as he could go.

"Mom, Dad!" he yelled.

His parents ran outside to see what was wrong.

"Mom, Dad, you have to come and see. You're not going to believe it!" he yelled as they all rushed to the orchard.

"Look!" he yelled. "The pear tree has perked up and is looking better. Thank-you, Lord, thank you," he cried, "for answering my prayers."

Ecclesiastes 3:1

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

Time has passed since the days of little Willie and his plum and pear trees. The family eventually sold the place, moved on and left the orchard behind. Little Willie grew up to be a fine young man. One day he came back to Coatstown and decided to drive by his old home. It was still pretty much the same except for the orchard. The new owner had cut down all the fruit trees except for two. Guess which two still stood? That's right, the plum and the pear tree. You won't believe it but the he plum tree is still the taller of the two.

Matthew 17:20-21

And Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you. Howbeit this kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

Rufus and the Willow Creek Church

It was pouring down rain late on a Saturday night as Rufus, the field mouse, passed through the little community of Willow Creek. I've got to get out of this rain, he thought as he looked around for a place to go. What's this, he asked himself as he read the sign on the building. Willow Creek Church, he read to himself. This will do fine. He eased his way inside the church. Once inside, he looked around. The church was blanketed with darkness except for a little light from the streetlight that shined through the window onto the podium in the pulpit. As he felt his way through the darkness toward the front of the church, the silence of the church was broken.

"Ouch!" yelled Rufus when he banged his head on one of the pews.

"I've got to find an aisle," he said as he rubbed his head, "and get out from under these pews."

Slowly, he made his way to the front of the church. This is more like it," he said to himself. Now, I need to find something to dry off with," he thought.

He looked around and noticed a box of tissues under the altar. He hurriedly rushed over to the box of tissues, pulled two or three tissues from the box and dried his face and hands.

"That's so much better," he said. "Achoo," he sneezed. "Now, let's see. I need a place to take a nap," he said as he looked up at the podium. He stretched, yawned and said, "Perfect, this will do just fine."

Quickly, Rufus ran up the microphone cord and swung around to the door on the back of the podium. Carefully, he squeezed his way inside and stood on a shelf.

"Now," he said, "for some light."

Rufus slightly propped the door of the podium open to allow the light from the streetlight to shine in. He was soaked from head to toe. He reached into his backpack and took out some dry clothes. As he turned around, he noticed a handkerchief lying beside him. This must belong to the pastor, he thought. I'm sure he won't mind if I use it. Rufus reached over, grabbed the handkerchief, finished drying off and changed his clothes. Rufus was tired and worn out from his journey. His eyes were red and swollen; they were streaked like a road map. He looked around to his other side and saw a collection plate. Gently, he placed the handkerchief inside the plate, crawled in and fell asleep.

It wasn't long before morning. Slowly, the congregation entered the church for Sunday school. They were talking and laughing as they took their regular seats. Rufus was so tired and wore out that he never woke up. Shortly, the song leader stepped up to the microphone and began to sing; the congregation stood and joined in. But, Rufus never even turned over. In fact, he slept through Sunday school. After Sunday school, the church gathered in the chapel. They sang songs of praise and prayed. As they sang, Rufus tossed, twisted and turned about. Suddenly, the pastor got happy, stood up and slammed his hand down on top of the podium.

"Glory to God!" he shouted. "I feel good in the Lord today."

When the pastor pounded down on the podium, Rufus was startled awake. It scared him half to death as he bounced up and down inside the collection plate.

"Praise God!" shouted the pastor.

"Hallelujah, brother," said a voice from the congregation.

Quickly, Rufus jumped out of the plate, slipped out the door of the podium, shot between the pastor's feet and hid in the pews of the choir.

"Whew," Rufus sighed with relief. "That was a close call."

As the service went on, the pastor got up and preached. Rufus quietly listened as he hid behind a stack of songbooks under one of the pews. Occasionally, Rufus would peep over the songbooks to look at the pastor and the congregation. When Rufus looked out at the congregation, he saw a few people listening, two or three sleeping, a few whispering and little children playing under the pews.

"Waah! Waah!" cried a baby.

Oh, yes, and a baby crying at the top of its lungs. Finally, the service ended and everyone except Rufus went home. He stayed behind to explore the church and to see what he could find. Rufus worked his way around the church. He climbed behind the pews of the choir and looked through an open window.

"It's an indoor swimming pool," he said. "Whoopee!" he yelled. "I'm going for a swim."

Splash he went as he jumped into the water.

"This is great," he cried. "The water is good and warm. It's just right."

Later on that evening as Rufus was thinking about the sermon, the congregation started coming in. There wasn't as many as before, but it was still a good crowd. As the song leader sang 'Where do I go but to the Lord,' Rufus hid under the front pew, clapped his hands and patted his feet. Where do I go but to the Lord? I sure wish I could sing, he thought. The service went on. After the pastor closed out his message, the congregation left one by one. But, Rufus stayed behind. He thought about the things the pastor had said and hummed the hymns they had sung.

"Glory to God!" shouted Rufus in the empty church as he slapped his hand down on his little knee.

For the next few days, Rufus played and thought about things. Early Wednesday morning, he climbed up on a pew and found a songbook. Hurriedly, he opened it. He thumbed through the pages to hymn number 53. He cleared his throat and tried to sing like the song leader.

"A...maz...ing gra...ce," squeaked his voice.

He cleared his throat once again, took a deep breath and then sang out.

"A...maz...ing gra...," squeaked his voice and then he coughed. "A...maz...ing grace, how sweet the sound," squeaked his voice again. "I wish I could sing," he said as he sat on the edge of the pew and swung his feet back and forth.

Rufus couldn't wait until it was time for the congregation to come back on Wednesday night. He felt sort of lonesome. Later on that day, Rufus played inside the piano. Unexpectedly, the choir director and the choir came in to practice before the Wednesday night service. Rufus rushed to get out of the piano but one of his feet got hung in the piano strings. It was too late; the piano player sat down at the piano and began to play. Oh no, he thought, I've got to get out of here. He struggled to get free but he couldn't get his foot out from under the strings. As the pianist played, the keys hit all around him.

"Me...me...me," came a voice from the choir.

I have to get out of here, thought Rufus. But, how, he asked himself. He pulled and tugged on the piano strings as sweat popped out on his forehead. Without warning, the piano player started playing. As she pounded down on the keys, Rufus grabbed his ears because the noise was so loud. Just in the nick of time, Rufus pulled his foot free; the keys barely missed him. He scurried out of the piano down to the floor and ran under the choir pews. Exhausted, frightened and scared, he gasped for air.

"Okay, choir," said the choir director, "turn to page 173."

Rufus grabbed a songbook that was lying on the floor and turned to page 173. As the choir sang, Rufus tried his best to keep up with them but he couldn't. When they came to the chorus, he stuck his little chest out and joined in.

"When the roll is called up yonder," squeaked his voice.

"When the roll is called up yonder," squeaked his voice again.

The choir stopped; they looked at each other with their mouths hung open.

"Now, let's try it again," instructed the choir director.

Everything went well until they got to the chorus.

"When the roll is called up yonder," squeaked Rufus.

The choir director quickly stopped, looked at the choir, eye-balled them and then looked over at the piano player.

"Well, it wasn't me," said one lady.

"Me either," said another.

"Okay," stated the director, "let's try it one more time from the top. One, two, and uh three...sounds fine," said the director as he smiled and nodded. "Now the chorus," he said as he eyed each one.

"When the roll is called up yonder," they sang.

Quickly, Rufus placed his hand over his mouth.

"When the roll is called up yonder, when the roll is called up yonder, I'll be there," they continued to sing.

"Alright," Rufus yelled softly. "I did it."

After the Wednesday night service, the congregation had a surprise dinner for the pastor in the fellowship hall. Everyone wanted to thank him for all that he had done. No one liked the dinner any better than Rufus. After everyone left, he ate until he couldn't eat any more. He was so full that his little round belly poked out from under his shirt. All he could do was lie on the floor and wallow around.

"Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Lord for that good food," he shouted. "And thank you, Pastor Brown. Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup...oh no," cried Rufus, "not the hiccups. Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup...excuse me, Lord," he said as he covered his mouth.

Early the next day, the church was empty and quiet once again. Well, I guess it's time for me to move on, thought Rufus as he looked around the church. I'm going to miss everyone, he said to himself. He quietly stood in the pulpit before he slowly made his way to the door. He stopped suddenly in his tracks and paused a minute. He turned and walked back toward the pulpit. He knelt down at the altar and prayed. After a few minutes, he stood to his feet with tears in his eyes and a smile across his face.

"Lord, I believe I will stay," he squeaked, "amen."

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

George and the Princess

Knock, knock, knock came the loud, firm sound upon the classroom door. Slowly, Miss Sarah eased from the blackboard, went over and opened the door.

"Why, Mr. Brown," she said with a slight giggle in her voice. "Please, come in."

Casually, Mr. Brown, the school principal, stepped inside the room. He was a huge man with coal black hair and dark bushy eyebrows.

"Miss Sarah," he said, "I have a new student for you."

Miss Sarah quietly giggled under her breath and placed her hand on the new student's shoulder.

"My child, what is your name?" she asked.

"Melissa," replied the girl.

The children sat in silence as Melissa nervously looked around the room and then smiled. Everyone in the class smiled back. Well, everyone except George. He sat at his desk and stared in amazement at the new girl. Now, he thought, she is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and Melissa is such a pretty name."

"Class," said Miss Sarah, "we have a new student with us today. Her name is Melissa."

"Hi, Melissa," yelled a couple of the students while the others just waved their hands. George was the only one who didn't respond. He was so stunned by her beauty that he suddenly fell to the floor. Thump he went when he hit the floor. Everyone quickly looked around at George. Embarrassed, he got up off the floor and sat at his desk.

"Are you alright, George?" asked Miss Sarah.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a red face.

The class burst out laughing.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha," they all laughed.

George's face turned even redder as he slid down in his desk and put his head down. Hesitantly, he raised his head and saw Melissa looking at him with a big smile on her face. He smiled back with a look of relief on his face.

"Well, I have to get back to my office," said Mr. Brown.

"Okay, class. It's time to get back to work," instructed Miss Sarah.

"Oh, do we have to?" they all moaned.

"Melissa, you can take the seat next to George."

As Melissa took her seat, Miss Sarah picked up where she left off. George started wiggling in his seat. He squirmed and twisted. But, he tried his best to keep his eyes on Melissa. She is the most beautiful girl I have even seen, he thought.

"Ah hmm," came a voice from the front of the room. "George, is there a problem?" asked Miss Sarah.

"No, ma'am," replied George.

The class giggled and began to whisper to each other.

"George has a girlfriend. George has a girlfriend," teased one student.

"Class," said Miss Sarah after she cleared her throat.

Gradually, the classroom settled down and she resumed teaching. George sat quietly at his desk; he was afraid to move. He looked straight ahead toward the front of the class. Every now and then he would cut his eyes over to the side and look at Melissa. She sat at her desk quietly and listened to Miss Sarah. She was unaware of George's feelings toward her. Sweat beaded up on George's forehead and slowly ran down the side of his face. Unexpectedly, Melissa shifted in her seat and accidently dropped her pencil; it rolled under the desk in front of George. He stretched his leg out and tried to reach her pencil with his foot. Carefully, he eased his foot little by little and inch by inch as he tried to get the pencil. However, the pencil rolled further away each time he touched it. Suddenly, there was a loud thump.

"Ouch," George said softly after he raised his head up and hit the bottom of his desk.

"George Atwood, what on earth are you doing?" questioned Miss Sarah.

"Uh...uh," mumbled George.

"Oh, Miss Sarah, George was trying to get my pencil for me. I accidentally dropped it."

"Yes, ma'am, here it is," replied George as he held the pencil up.

"Get back in your desk," said Miss Sarah, "and pay attention."

"Yes, ma'am," mumbled George as he slipped back in his desk.

Miss Sarah turned and walked toward the front of the class once again. George peeped over at Melissa and smiled. She was looking at him, too, with a big smile on her face. George couldn't believe what he was seeing. His little heart raced. Thump, thump, thump it went.

A few days later, George was eating his lunch in the cafeteria. Melissa will never like a boy like me, thought George. I'm too clumsy, he thought. Besides, there are too many other boys she'll probably be interested in. As George at his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he looked around the room. He noticed Melissa immediately when she came into the cafeteria. He watched her as she looked around and then headed straight toward him. George struggled to swallow the bite of peanut butter and jelly sandwich he had in his mouth. She kept coming closer and closer which made it even harder for him to swallow. She is so beautiful, he thought. She is as beautiful as a princess.

"George, George," yelled Melissa from across the cafeteria.

George grabbed his drink, took a big gulp and swallowed the bite of his sandwich.

"Hi, George," said Melissa when she walked up to the table.

"Oh, hi, Melissa," he replied nonchalantly with a milkstache above his lip.

"May I sit down and eat lunch with you?" she asked.

"Sure," said George. "Let me get your chair for you."

When he stood, he knocked over his drink; it spilled all over the table and dripped onto the floor.

"I'm sorry, Melissa," he said. "If you haven't noticed already, I'm a little clumsy."

"Oh, that's alright, George. I think it's kinda cute."

"You do?" he asked.

"Yes, I do," she said as she took some napkins and helped him clean up the spilled milk.

"I like your milk mustache," she said with a chuckle.

"Thanks," he replied as he wiped it off his lip.

They sat, talked, laughed and had a good time. It wasn't long before it was time for them to go back to the classroom.

"Melissa, uh...do...you...think...uh I could walk you home from school today?" asked George.

Melissa hesitated for a few moments. She didn't want to answer too quickly or appear to be too anxious.

"That will be alright," she replied as she glanced up at George.

As Melissa got up to leave, George grabbed hold of her arm.

"You are so pretty," he said when she turned around.

"Why, thank you," she replied. "You are so sweet."

After school George walked Melissa home. They casually strolled down the sidewalk enjoying each other's company. George walked with his chest poked out and held his breath. He did his best to impress her.

"Is something wrong, George?" she asked.

"Oh, no," he replied. "I just need to take a deep breath."

They talked all the way to her house. George felt like he was on top of the world. When she wasn't looking, he would poke out his chest and lift his chin. My little princess, he thought to himself.

"Well, George, this is where I live," she said. "Thank you for walking me home."

"That's okay, Melissa, anytime," he replied. "I really enjoyed walking you home."

"What about tomorrow?" she asked. "Will you walk me home tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow!" he yelled. "For real; I mean, sure thing. I'd be happy to."

He was so excited; he raised his foot to jump for with joy. But, there were strings of chewing attached to the bottom of his shoe. The gum stretched from his shoe to the sidewalk.

"Oh, no," he said, "just my luck."

Melissa dropped her head and giggled.

"George," she said. "There will never be another one like you."

The more he struggled with the chewing gum, the stringier it got. Finally, he broke free. He scraped the bottom of his shoe on the edge of the sidewalk and headed home.

"I'll see you tomorrow," said George as he waved goodbye.

He walked away with his head down; he felt so stupid and embarrassed. Melissa had noticed him walking with his chest out and chin held high. She was impressed that he would go through that much trouble for her.

"George," hollered Melissa as he walked away.

"Yeah?" he turned around and replied.

Melissa ran up and kissed him on the cheek. She felt sorry for him because she knew in her heart that he was embarrassed.

"You are a sweet boy," she said. "Thanks again for walking me home. I'll see you tomorrow."

After she kissed him, George couldn't move. He was frozen in his tracks. All he could do was watch her run toward the house. He stood on the sidewalk with his mouth wide open, speechless and red-faced as she disappeared inside the house.

Time soon passed and the school year neared its end. George and Melissa had seen a lot of each other and became good friends. The school dance held each year at the end of school was coming up. George wondered if Melissa would go with him. He spent hours in front of the mirror and practiced asking her to the dance. It would be his first date and he didn't want to mess it up. Day after day, he spent time with her and tried to get up the nerve to ask her to the dance. But, he always chickened out. He was afraid she would say no. Eventually, the day came when he had no other choice. He was at the point that it was either now or never. He knew it was time for him to bite the bullet and make his move. He got his opportunity when he saw Melissa coming out of the library and hurried over to her.

"Melissa," he called. "Wait a minute."

"Oh, hi, George; are you headed to class?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," he replied. "But, I want to ask you something first."

About the time he started to ask her, he stepped on his shoelace and almost tripped. However, George regained his balance and didn't fall.

"Hey, George, you're getting the hang of it now," said Melissa.

George and Melissa were startled when they heard everyone clapping. George looked around and saw his classmates applauding and cheering.

"Way to go, George," they cried.

George smiled from ear to ear and so did Melissa.

"What did you want to ask me, George?" questioned Melissa.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot," he said. "I was wondering if you would go to the dance with me."

"I'd love to," she replied.

She grabbed him by the arm and laid her head on his shoulder.

"She said yes," cried George.

His classmates were so happy for him. George jumped up, kicked his heels and waltzed down the hall with Melissa.

"She said yes, yes, yes," he cried all the way to the classroom.

It wasn't long before the big day came for George to take Melissa to the dance. Melissa was all dressed up in a beautiful dress. She had her hair pulled up on her head with baby's breath and a tiny little rose in it. George was also dressed to the tee. The silk sheen suit he wore glittered and sparkled. He had his hair slicked back and he was ready to boogie.

All was quiet at Melissa's house as she waited nervously for George to come and pick her up. From time to time, she would peep out the window to look for him. The last time she peeped out, a car pulled up and parked in front of her house. It was George and his dad. She quickly closed the curtain and hoped he hadn't seen her. The back door of the car opened and George stepped out. He was dressed to kill as he walked up to her front door with flowers in his hand. Reluctantly, he knocked. He nervously waited for someone to answer the door. His hands sweated and his knees trembled. It seemed like forever before anyone came to the door. Finally, there was a crack in the door; he saw an eye and then heard a voice.

"Melissa, someone is here to see you," said her mother as she slowly opened the door.

"Well, hello, George," greeted her mother.

"Hi, Miss Brentwater," replied George.

"Here is your date, George," her mother stated.

They both stood and stared at each other; they were speechless.

George swallowed real hard and whispered, "These are for you, princess," as he handed her the flowers.

"Thank you, George. They are beautiful," she said when she reached for the flowers.

"Are you ready to go my little princess?" George asked.

"Yes, I am," replied Melissa.

As they stepped out onto the porch, George patted his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar. He took the wrapper off, broke it in half and gave her half.

Melissa looked up at him, smiled and said, "George, you are so sweet."

George took her by the arm and said, "Let's go dancing!"

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

Popcorn the Scarecrow

It was a long hot summer day in the little community of Hidden Meadow. There was only a light wind stirring about. It stirred up the dust on the old country road. Suddenly, pop, bang, chug, chug, chug, pop and bang sounded Farmer Tony's old truck as it came down the road. Eek, eek, bang and pop it went as he came to a stop at his cornfield on the corner of Honey Run Road and Shady Lane. Carefully, he looked out across the field. He could hear the crows cawing above the field. Caw, caw, caw they sounded.

"It looks like I'm going to have a prize winning field of peaches and cream corn this year," he said as he looked over at the scarecrow.

"Yep, Farmer Tony, I believe you have a first place crop this year for the county fair," replied the scarecrow. "Better than that hickory can corn you had last year."

Keep up the good work, Popcorn. Take good care of it for me," he said. "It's your responsibility to keep the crows away. I'm counting on you. I hope you don't let me down."

"I'll do my best, sir," replied Popcorn the scarecrow. "I won't let you down. You'll see."

"You are a good man, Popcorn," said Farmer Tony.

"Thank you, sir," he replied. "It sure is hot today, isn't it?"

"Yep, it's a little warm," replied Farmer Tony as he took his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'll talk to you later, Popcorn."

"Okay, see ya. Bye!" shouted Popcorn as Farmer Tony drove out of sight.

Chug, chug, chug, pop, bang, chug, chug, chug sounded Farmer Tony's truck as it went down the road.

Popcorn was the scarecrow that watched over Farmer Tony's cornfield. He was Farmer Tony's right-hand man, sort of like a straw boss. He got his nickname, Popcorn, because he loved to eat popcorn. It was his favorite food. Popcorn wasn't the only one who heard Farmer Tony talking about his prize crop. Carl and Carlene, two crows that hung out in the field, heard him as well. If there was anything those two practical jokers loved more than eating corn it was playing jokes. Caw, caw, caw went the crows. As Popcorn watched over the cornfield, Jalen came to see him. Jalen was Popcorn's best friend. He lived on the farm next door and his dad was a good friend of Farmer Tony.

"Hey, Popcorn, what's going on?" asked Jalen.

"Oh, nothing much, Niblet," he replied.

Niblet was Jalen's nickname. That's what Popcorn called him sometimes.

"Farmer Tony left a few minutes ago. He told me to watch over the field. County fair is in a few weeks and he doesn't want anything to happen to his prize crop," stated Popcorn.

"Cool," said Niblet. "Can I help?"

"Sure you can," replied Popcorn. "What do you have in the brown sack?"

"Oh, it's just a little snack," said Niblet.

"Well, I think it's about snack time now," replied Popcorn.

"Well, I guess it is," said Niblet. "Let's eat."

Niblet quickly opened the bag. They both sat down on the ground in the cornfield to have a bite to eat.

"Well, well, well, look what I have," said Niblet, "popcorn with extra butter! What do you have, Popcorn?"

"I have an old tater and biscuit," he replied.

"Yuck!" cried Niblet.

As the two took their little break, a few rows back Carl and Carlene were working out their plans for the joke they were going to play on Popcorn and Niblet.

"Now, here's what we're going to do," said Carl. "We'll make it look like Slick the chicken snake is eating the corn."

"Oh, no!" said Carlene. "Not Slick. I'm afraid of what he'll do if he finds out."

"Oh, he won't ever know," laughed Carl. "Besides, he stays cooped up in that old corn crib all the time anyway."

"I don't know," cried Carlene as she shook her head.

A few feet away from them, two dark eyes peered out of the tall grass and then slowly slithered away.

"Come on, chicken," said Carl. "It will be fun."

"Okay," replied Carlene as they flew to the top of the cornstalks.

"Caw, caw, caw," they screamed.

"What was that?" shouted Niblet.

"Carl and Carlene must be up to something," replied Popcorn. "Come on; let's see what is going on."

Quickly, they jumped up and took off through the corn rows.

"Caw, caw, caw," Carl and Carlene screamed.

"We're coming," cried Popcorn. "We're coming."

By the time Popcorn and Niblet got there, there was nothing left but three of four ears of corn and a few black crow's feathers.

"What happened?" asked Niblet.

"I don't know," replied Popcorn. "But, I have a pretty good idea."

"Shhh, listen. What was that?" whispered Niblet.

Carl and Carlene were hid in a nearby row. Carl was hissing like a snake.

"It sounds like..." stuttered Popcorn.

"Surely not," replied Niblet.

"Not Slick!" they both cried as they ran away.

Carl and Carlean hissed and laughed until Popcorn and Niblet were out of sight. Popcorn and Niblet finally stopped running and were walking through the field. They were both confused.

"You know, Popcorn, "something just doesn't seem right. I have never heard of a chicken snake shucking corn before," Niblet said.

"Me either," replied Popcorn. "But, what could have happened?"

"I don't know," replied Niblet. "It sounds like a shuck and jive move to me."

"Look!" shouted Popcorn. "It's a trail of corn kernels."

"And look," said Niblet. "It's leading right to the corncrib. Come on and follow me," instructed Niblet.

Hurriedly, the cornfield detectives took off down through the rows of corn toward the corn crop.

"What do you make of it, Niblet?" asked Popcorn.

"I don't know for sure," said Niblet, "but snakes don't eat corn, do they?"

"I don't think so," replied Popcorn as he noticed something under the corner of the corncrib. "Look," cried Popcorn. "It's Slick."

"Are you sure?" questioned Niblet. "Yeah, I think you're right. I see two dark eyes looking out. Come on, let's get out of here!"

The two turned quickly and took off toward the field. From under the corner of the crib, Carl and Carlene could be heard laughing.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha," they laughed.

Little did Carl and Carlene know that right above them were two dark eyes looking down on them through a knothole in the floor.

"Oh, no!" screamed Popcorn as he ran through the field. "Look, Niblet, look at the kernels of corn."

As Niblet ran up behind him, he quickly looked down at the ground. Several stalks of corn and corn silks were lying everywhere.

"Silks and stalks," cried out Popcorn. "Farmer Tony is going to get me."

"But, Popcorn, it's not your fault," said Niblet.

"But, it was my responsibility," he cried.

High in the air, above the field, Carl and Carlene were circling and laughing their heads silly.

"What a sucker," said Carl. "That Popcorn must have straw for a brain."

"He does," laughed Carlene, "ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, what a sap."

As Niblet looked a little closer at the ground, he noticed some crow tracks in the dirt. Then he looked up and noticed Carl and Carlene circling and laughing above them.

"I think I might have figured out this mystery, Popcorn," stated Niblet.

"You have," replied Popcorn.

"Yep, I believe I have," Niblet said. "Don't you worry, Popcorn, everything is going to be alright. Follow me."

The two disappeared into the field. Niblet explained to Popcorn what he thought was going on.

"I see, Niblet," said Popcorn.

"Now, this is what we can do," instructed Niblet as he whispered in Popcorn's ear.

Later on that evening, Carl and Carlene flew back into the cornfield. They looked around and saw no one.

"Popcorn, Niblet," they shouted.

There was no answer.

"Come on," said Carl. "We'll fly high above the field to see if we can see them."

The two crows circled above the field. They searched and searched but didn't see any sign of Popcorn or Niblet.

"Look," said Carlene. "The corncrib door is open. Maybe they're in there."

"Come on, let's go and see," instructed Carl. "We'll lock them in there and we'll be able to have lunch in the field for the rest of the day."

"Well, I don't know," said Carlene. "I'm afraid."

"Come on," replied Carl. "All we have to do is get close, peep in and then slam the door shut, chicken!"

"Well, alright," she said. "But, that's all, nothing else."

Cautiously, the two crows moved closer and closer to the corncrib. They swooped down to get a closer look.

"Everything looks okay," said Carl.

"Do you see them?" asked Carlene.

"No, not yet," he replied. "I'm not close enough. Come one, let's get a little closer."

Quickly, the two crows swooped down and peeped in the door. About that time, Popcorn and Niblet jumped out and slammed the door shut, trapping Carl and Carlene inside the corncrib. The two crows could hear Popcorn and Niblet laughing at them from the other side of the door. Carl and Carlene looked around to see if they could find a way out. That's when they noticed two dark eyes staring at them.

"Welcome to my crib, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha," said a deep hissing voice.

"Uh oh!" shouted Carl.

"I told you this wasn't a good idea," screamed Carlene.

"Hisssss," went Slick.

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

Giblet Gravy and Fried Goosle

It was a cold and rainy November night on a little farm on Spooky Ridge Road in the quiet community of Water Edge. Boom, boom, boom sounded the thunder as lightning flashed across the sky. Boom, boom and flash went the lightning again as it ripped the blanket of black sky and created a ray of light. As the rain beat heavy upon the ground, the thunder roared in the distance and the wind drove it hard across the ground.

It was a few days before Thanksgiving when Andrzej the turkey ran off from Mr. Brown's farm. Every year around Thanksgiving Joe Jo, as his friends called him, disappeared until Thanksgiving was over. He would show up after Thanksgiving and try to pull the wool over Farmer Brown's eyes.

"I'll show Mr. Brown," said Joe Jo. "He'll have to get up pretty early to cook this old bird's goosle. Besides, I need a little vacation anyway."

"You're crazy, Joe Jo," replied his friends. "You're going to get caught one of these days."

"Who, me!" laughed Joe Jo. "No way; I've got this thing down pat."

"Sure you do," they replied. "We'll see."

Well that night, of all nights for him to leave, the storm raged on. It was a little after midnight when the barn door slowly opened and two little beady eyes peered through the darkness. As Joe Jo looked out, the rain fell hard and fast against his head. The wind howled as it blew through the trees. The thunder roared, boom, boom, boom and the lightning streaked across the sky. Joe Jo swallowed long and hard.

"It's now or never," he mumbled to himself.

Suddenly, he dashed out of the barn, across the barnyard and down the road. Boom, boom, boom sounded the thunder in the black night sky.

"Aiyee," he screamed as a chill ran up his back.

Hurriedly, he ran down the road. He fought the rain and wind as it pushed him back. For every two steps he took, he got pushed back one. A little ways down the road, just off the beaten path, was the home of Gwendolyn the witch.

"Now, let me see," she said as she opened her cupboard. "Ugh, just like I thought! There's not a thing in here that I want to fix for Thanksgiving."

She reached for her mama's old cookbook and thumbed through the pages as the thunder and lightning raged outside.

"It sure is a bad night," she said as she looked through the book. "Well, well, well, what is this I see?" she cried. "Giblet gravy and fried goosle, yummy!" she said as she smacked her lips. "I haven't had this dish since I was a little girl."

She started reminiscing about her mother fixing the dish for Thanksgiving and her mouth started watering; she could almost taste it.

She laughed and then screamed, "Aiyee! Got that, got that and that too," she nodded her head and said as she read the ingredients. "Yep, this and that also," she continued. "Hmm, a young turkey," she said. "Where in the world will I get a young turkey?"

Not far up the road, the wind and rain had all but beaten Joe Jo down. Out of the dark, black sky, a streak of lightning stabbed its way through the darkness and struck a nearby tree. Quickly, Joe Jo took off down the beaten path. He ran for his life and cried under his breath. I'll never leave home again, he mumbled to himself. Tired and worn out, he collapsed in Gwendolyn's front yard.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," he moaned. "Someone please help me."

Gwendolyn paced the floor back and forth and wrung her hands as she tried to figure out a way to get a young turkey. Where am I going to get a young turkey? she thought to herself as she walked over to look out the window. When she looked out, she saw old Joe Jo on the ground moaning and groaning.

"Help me," Joe Jo cried. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, help me," he cried.

Immediately, she ran to the rescue. Boom went the thunder and flash went the lightning.

"What on earth happened to you?" she asked. "Why, young turkey, I mean Mr. Turkey, you are soaking wet. Come on inside the house with me where it's dry and warm; I'll get you fixed up."

As she helped him in out of the storm she thought, I'll get you fixed up like giblet gravy and fried goosle. All she could think about was that hot giblet gravy and fried goosle like her mama used to make. Her mouth watered and she smacked her lips as she sat him up in her favorite recliner.

"Now, there you go," she said as her eyes grew big. This will make you feel so much better," she said as she smacked her lips.

"Why, thank you," replied Joe Jo. "I feel better already."

She turned slightly, gently tilted her head and with a warm soft voice asked, "May I get you something to eat or drink?"

Joe Jo thought for a moment and replied, "Some warm broth would be good."

"Warm broth it is," she said as she walked away. She suddenly stopped, looked back, giggled and said, "I almost forget, my name is Gwendolyn and yours!"

"Joe Jo," he replied. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, I'm so sick," he moaned and groaned.

She dashed to the kitchen to get the broth as quickly as she could. This is going to be alright, said Joe Jo to himself. I'm going to have it made here. I'll just hang out here until Thanksgiving is over and then I'll head back to the farm.

"Oh, oh, oh," he groaned from the next room.

"I'm coming!" yelled Gwendolyn from the kitchen.

As he waited for his warm broth, he saw her cookbook on the table. There, right in front of him, was the recipe for giblet gravy and fried goosle and the main ingredient was a young turkey. He knew immediately knew what Gwendolyn had in mind. Gwendolyn finally came back with the warm cup of broth; she startled him when she walked in.

"Here you go," she said as she handed him the broth. "Drink it all," she insisted.

Slowly, Joe Jo sipped on the broth.

"Mmm, that's good. It sure did hit the spot," he said as he set it down and started coughing and sneezing. "A-choo...oh, oh, oh, I'm so sick," he cried.

"May I get you anything else?" she asked as she checked his fever.

"Well, there is one thing," he replied. "A nice warm blanket would be nice. A-choo," he sneezed and then coughed.

"That won't be a problem," she said. "I have one right here on the back of the recliner. Now, how's that?"

"Oh, that is so much better," he replied as she placed the warm blanket over him. "Would there be anything else, Joe Jo?" she asked as she discreetly picked up the cookbook and hid it behind her back.

"I guess there is nothing else for now," he replied. "I am awfully tired. I think I'll take a little nap. I'm sure I'll feel a lot better after a good nap."

"That will be fine," she replied. "You get all the rest you need. If you need anything, just let me know."

Slowly, the hours ticked away and Joe Jo awoke from his nap. He picked up right where he left off. Joe Jo moaned and groaned as Gwendolyn waited on him hand and foot. She wanted him to get better so she could fix the giblet gravy and fried goosle she hoped for. But, the more Joe Jo complained, the more she wondered if it was really worth it. What a life, thought Joe Jo, "fine food, nice warm house and someone to wait on me hand and foot.

Joe Jo continued to play his game with Gwendolyn. Little did he know, she was about fed up with him and was ready to throw him out. If he had called her name once, he had called it a million times. Can you get me this and can you get me that was all she heard, over and over again. She was ready to scream; she was at her rope's end. She didn't care if she ever had giblet gravy and fried goosle again. The mouth-watering feast had all but dried up to a pucker.

"Gwendolyn," called the annoying voice from the next room.

She balled up her fists and bit her lip to keep from screaming.

"Oh, Gwendolyn," he called. "Will you come here and fluff my pillow?"

She discreetly peeped in the room. There he sat all cozy in the recliner as he laughed and snickered to himself. Well, two can play this game, she thought.

"Gwendolyn, oh, Gwendolyn," he called again.

She fluffed his pillow and asked him if he needed anything else.

"Oh, oh, oh," he cried. "I'm so sick."

"Now, don't you worry about a thing," she replied. "I'm going to take care of everything."

"May I have a glass of cranberry juice?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied. "I'll be right back. I'm going to fix that deadbeat Thanksgiving bird," she mumbled under her breath. "He wants me to wait on him hand and foot but he's got another thing coming."

She filled the glass with half cranberry juice and half red hot sauce. She stirred the juice, blew the smoke off the top of it and headed for the next room.

"Oh, Gwendolyn, could you hurry?" he called out.

As he watched for her to come back, he glanced over at the calendar. It was the day after Thanksgiving and it was time for him to go home. Time has really flown, he thought to himself as Gwendolyn came into the room.

"Here you go, Joe Jo. A nice hot...I mean a nice cold drink of cranberry juice. Drink it all," she insisted.

Joe Jo turned it up and drank it all in one gulp. Suddenly, he reached for his throat. His eyes turned a fiery red. His face turned colors and smoke circled about his head.

"Aiyee!" he screamed as he jumped up out of the recliner, shot across the room and ricocheted off the walls.

He bounced from wall to wall, rolled and spun around before he collapsed to the floor.

"Do you smell smoke?" he looked up at her and asked.

"Now, now, now, Joe Jo, that is so much better. I believe that will break that cold right up. Don't you think? Excuse me, Joe Jo, don't you think?" she asked again.

Joe Jo couldn't answer because he was out like a light. It took him a few minutes to wake up.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," he moaned.

"Do you need some more?" she asked.

"Oh, no," he said as he jumped up. "I feel fine; I'm so much better."

He ran out the door and headed for home. Gwendolyn watched him as he ran down the beaten path and giggled to herself.

"That jive turkey," she said, "has to be the craziest bird I have ever seen. Just wait until he gets home. He's really going to be in for a big surprise."

Joe Jo had no idea that Gwendolyn had run the calendar up a couple of days. Instead of it being the day after Thanksgiving, it was the day before.

"That crazy bird wouldn't have been good for Thanksgiving anyway," she complained. "His feet didn't match. One was a size ten and the other was a size thirteen. Phooey on that old giblet gravy and fried goosle, maybe next year I'll have better luck finding a young turkey."

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

A Christmas with no Gifts

Isaiah 9:6

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

It was Christmas Eve in the little town of Willow Springs. A new coat of snow had fallen the night before. Willow Springs was a small community located back in the foothills of a small mountain chain called Pine Mountains. The giant pines surrounded the town like a big green wall. The snow had come early that year and everyone was excited, especially the children. If you listened closely, the popping and snapping of tree limbs could be heard as they buckled under the weight of the heavy snow.

It was early in the evening, in the little town, and people were doing their last minute shopping; they hustled and bustled from store to store. The air was filled with the songs of Christmas as the people hurried about. The store shelves were nearly empty and the last turkeys and hams were disappearing fast. It was Christmas! The children anticipated the arrival of Christmas morning as they sledded, threw snowballs and built snowmen. Families were gathered together, eating, laughing and singing Christmas carols. Yes, it was a joyful time in the little town. Joy filled the valley everywhere except for the little house on Morningside Drive where little Johnny lay in his bed sick. His parents stood by his bedside as Doctor Bell examined him.

"Hmm," said Doctor Bell as he checked Johnny's temperature and then frowned. "His temperature is a little high," he said as he rubbed his chin and stepped back from the bed.

Little Johnny coughed which caused his little body to shake all over. Discreetly, Dr. Bell motioned for Johnny's parents to step out of the room so he could talk to them privately. Little Johnny got out of bed, tiptoed over to the door, pressed his ear to it and listened.

"What's wrong with him, Dr. Bell?" his mom asked.

"Will he be alright?" questioned his dad.

"He will be fine," replied Dr. Bell. "He's just running a little fever and has a bad cold."

"What can we do for him?" questioned Johnny's dad.

"I'll prescribe him some medicine," replied Dr. Bell. "Be sure he gets plenty of rest and call me if there is any change," Dr. Bell instructed.

"Thank you for coming by, Dr. Bell, on Christmas Eve," said Johnny's dad. "I know it was an inconvenience."

"Oh, that's alright," replied the doctor. "It was no problem. I hope you have a merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you," Johnny's mom and dad replied.

Johnny dropped his head in disappointment and walked over to the window to watch the falling snow. He watched the children playing outside. They were throwing snowballs and making snowmen and snow angels. They were laughing, jumping, rolling around in the snow and even catching snowflakes with their tongues. He also saw Doctor Bell drive off. Tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks. What a Christmas Eve this has turned out to be, he thought as he wiped his nose and eyes with his shirt sleeve. It's Christmas Eve, he sighed, and I'm stuck in bed sick. Slowly, he got back in his bed and pulled the cover up around his neck. With tears still in his eyes, he couldn't understand why he had to be sick on Christmas Eve. It's just not fair, he thought. Suddenly, his bedroom door opened and his dad and mom peeped in to see how he was feeling.

"What's wrong honey?" his mom asked. "Why are you crying?"

Little Johnny replied, "It's not fair to be sick on Christmas Eve."

"I know," she said. "But sometimes things happen at the worst times."

"That's right son," said his dad. "Maybe you'll feel better by tomorrow and things will be different."

"You think so?" perked up little Johnny.

"We'll have to wait and see, Johnny," replied his mom. "Right now, you need to get some sleep."

His mom and dad each gave him a kiss on his forehead before they turned off the lights and left the room.

"I hate that he's sick; it will ruin his Christmas," his mom said to his dad.

"I do too," replied his dad. "But, it's something we can't help. All we can do is pray for the best."

As night crept by, little Johnny slept with his mother at his bedside. His dad looked in on them throughout the night. All was silent that Christmas Eve night throughout the little house on Morningside Drive.

Early the next morning, little Johnny's fever broke. 'Twas Christmas day, right after Christmas Eve, little Johnny jumped out of bed. He was still dressed in his pajamas and cap and was so eager to run downstairs to open his gifts that the jolly old fellow from the North Pole had left for him.

On Christmas Eve night, little Johnny had dreamed of toy trucks, cars and other things. As candy canes and sugar cookies danced in his head, his dream went on to bring peace and love to everyone.

However, as he entered the cold, dark room once filled with Christmas, he looked down in gloom. Under the tree there was neither a speck nor a crumb; it was clean as a whistle and as empty as they come. But, listen my children; Santa had not visited little Johnny yet. Or, had Santa forgotten. As brokenhearted as little Johnny was, he knelt down, cried and prayed.

"Johnny, Johnny, wake up. Don't you want to see what Santa brought you?"

Suddenly, little Johnny woke up and saw his mom and dad standing beside his bed. Was I dreaming? he thought. Did Santa come?

"Come on, Johnny. Let's go see what's under the Christmas tree," said his dad as he lifted Johnny up onto his shoulders.

They hurried down the stairs and quickly turned the corner to the living room. Little Johnny peered down from his daddy's shoulders and looked around the room. There were all kinds of gifts, trucks, cars and other things under the Christmas tree. He saw candy canes, sugar cookies, bats, balls, a fire truck, a dump truck and a pair of skates.

"Wow," yelled little Johnny, as his dad put him down. I must have been dreaming. This is the best Christmas ever. Thank you, Jesus," he said, "for making my Christmas a Christmas filled with gifts."

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

Who Took the Jingle Out of the Bell?

It was an Indian summer in late August, early September. The rain dripped slowly from the little bell shop's porch located at the end of town. Drip, drip, drip went the rain as it fell into the little puddles of water on the ground and sent tiny ripples through the puddle.

Professor Ding-a-ling lived inside the bell shop with his collection of jingling bells. He was an old man small in stature. He stood about five feet two inches tall with a plump belly and a long flowing white beard that curled upward at the ends. From time to time, he would get so excited that he would step on the end of his beard, almost trip and fall. He would quickly look around to see if anyone had seen him; then he would giggle to himself. Stinker, his old hound dog, lived with him; he was his best friend, sidekick and silent partner.

Drip, drip, drip fell the drops of rain as Professor Ding-a-ling peeped out the window to see if the rain had stopped. Stinker lay at his feet and didn't move. Professor Ding-a-ling couldn't hear it thunder, so to speak, but his eyes were sharp and quick to see.

All went well for a while until one day Professor Ding-a-ling awoke from his sleep. Immediately, he sensed something was wrong. He didn't know what it was or what on earth had happened. At first, he rolled about in his bed, back and forth and side to side; up he sat and down he went.

"Something is wrong," he cried. "Something is not right," he said as he tilted his head a slight, sat still and listened. "By George," he said softly, "that's what it is."

He listened a little closer. Silence had slipped in. He looked about the room once more and quietly listened.

"Shhh," he hushed Stinker, "be quiet old buddy. "Be still, can you hear it?" he asked.

Old Stinker just opened his mouth, yawned, got up, went to lie in the corner and yawned again. Very carefully, Professor Ding-a-ling slipped out of his bed and eased over to the door. All was quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were very faint creaking and popping sounds as he walked across the floor. Carefully, he placed his hand around the doorknob, turned it to the right first and then to the left. Next, he pulled on the doorknob slightly and opened the door. When the door gently hit the hanging doorbell, he listened. That was it; there was no jingle in the sound of the bell. Frantically, he paced here and there about the room. There wasn't a single jingle in the bell.

"Who took the jingle out of the bell?" he cried out. "Where, oh where has it gone? What could have happened to the jingle? Did someone take it when I was not at home or when I was asleep?"

He abruptly stopped, turned, looked across the room, stepped on the curl of his beard and almost fell. He stopped, looked about and said to himself with a giggle, oh shucks; I hope no one was watching. Then his eyes caught a glimpse of the wind chimes. Even the wind chimes blew in the wind and made not a sound. What could it be? he thought. What on earth could have happened? Who would do such a thing? Why, even the coo-coo clock ticks no more. What time of day is it? Who would do such a thing? he questioned himself. He paced back and forth across the floor and thought everything imaginable as the floor beneath him popped and creaked. Stinker watched for a while until he got wore out watching him pace back and forth. Several times, he stepped on the end of his beard and almost fell only to look about, giggle softly and talk to himself. Silly me, I must go out and search the town to see if I can find the missing jingle.

He grabbed his umbrella as he rushed out the door just in case it rained while he was out searching for the missing jingle. He disappeared down the street and diligently searched throughout the town for the jingle of the bell. He suddenly stopped in the middle of his search, scratched his head, tripped over his beard and laughed.

"This bell has no life," he said as he turned and continued his search.

In his little bell shop were bells of all kinds. He had big, little, slightly light, some heavy, some that ringed, some that went ding-a-ling and many different colored bells. He also had some from faraway places and some from around home.

As he was searching, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a big old pocket watch with a long golden chain. He held it up to his ear and listened, but he didn't hear a sound. He pecked on it with his finger, not once but twice. He knew it was time for the church bell to sound, so he listened for one minute, then two and then three. But, he never heard a jingle or a jangle and not even a tick tock which really got away with him. He didn't know what else to do but head home. When he arrived back at the little bell shop, he went in and shut the door behind him. He quickly turned. Then, all of sudden, he turned again and held his breath. His eyes popped out and his face blushed as a tiny little tear seeped from his eye.

"Achoo!" he cried out.

When he sneezed, his feet went back over his head and out popped not one but two ear plugs from his ears. The silence was broken. He began to hear the jingle of the bells once more.

"Oh, silly, silly me," he said. "I forgot to take out my earplugs. I'm so embarrassed."

He started walking about the room when he stepped on his beard once more. But, this time, he slipped his foot over to the side, shuffled his feet a bit and laughed.

"I got you this time," he laughed, "silly me!"

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

What Happened to the Jolly Holly, Jingle Jingle and

Ho, Ho, Ho in Christmas

Hooray! It was Christmas once again in the little community of Dry Ridge. The snow had blanketed the ground with its beautiful white spread. The children were playing, throwing snowballs and sledding. Hurriedly, the townspeople rushed here and there doing their last minute shopping and visiting. Everyone was smiling, laughing and full of good cheer. The air was filled with Christmas songs; it was the happiest time of the year. The lyrics of the songs danced about on the cool, brisk day. Everyone's hearts were in tune.

"It is Christmas. It is Christmas and I am so glad," they all sang.

"Hello, sir. Good morning, ma'am," came the happy greetings as the shoppers passed each other.

"Tell me this, tell me that," said one little boy to another.

"What is Santa going to bring you tonight?" asked another.

That was the way Christmas should be. It was the way Christmas had always been. But, I'm afraid not my friend. Looking back through the years, there came a time in Dry Ridge when Christmas changed. There was no holly jolly, jingle jingle or ho, ho, ho in Christmas. You might ask, what on earth could have happened? Well, there were lots of rumors told and plenty of speculation. What happened to the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas?

I must say that rumor has it and stories are told that the Hollimans, the people who lived there over the years, lost the Christmas spirit. Poof, it was gone. You see, Dry Ridge consisted of three sets of Hollimans. There were the Hollimans that lived north of Yellow Creek which ran through the north of town. There were the Hollimans that lived east of Lick Creek which ran east of town. And, there were the southern Hollimans that lived south of Standing Stone Road. Each set of Hollimans had at least twelve families each. They were all married and created a town full of Hollimans. Ho, ho, ho, can you believe that?

The eldest and oldest Holliman was Edgar. The youngest was Wee Willie Ruth Holliman. At one time, they were a happy little community such as it was in the beginning of the story. The community was full of good people who loved everyone. A more caring and loving town couldn't be found for miles around.

Ah, don't take me wrong little lads. There was a time when holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho rang abundantly across the land. But, what could have happened? What could have gone wrong? Why did the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas disappear from this little town? Why did the Christmas spirit leave? Where did it go? Was it lost on Little Jaybird Lane that ran through the middle of town? Or, did it vanish at Yellow Creek or Lick Creek? Was it hiding at Standing Stone? Why, no one seemed to know.

The town was full of long faces, lowered eyebrows and the dreaded look of Christmas on their faces. Oh, Christmas is here again was a phrase that echoed throughout the town during the Christmas season. There were no songs in the air. There was no laughing and giggling. There was no one saying good morning, ma'am or good day, sir. The spirit had gone. Even the falling of snow made them angry and sad. The once fluffy blanket of white was nothing but a grim glittering gray in the hearts and eyes of the Hollimans of Dry Ridge.

But what, oh tell me, could have happened to cause such a thing? I have looked and searched for someone who could tell me why.

As the cold wind blew, driving the snow harder and harder against them, the people didn't rush. They didn't seem to care. The lines were long but the people's faces were longer. The children frowned and cried because they wanted to go home. From time to time, they would have a few short words with each other which usually ended with a push and a shove. Where did they fail? What happened to their joy and smiles? Grumpy old frowns were the only emotion they could show. The lights that usually decorated the homes and town were nothing but weathered light strands hanging from long ago. Many of the bulbs were shot and many strands of lights had some lights that worked and some that didn't.

"Who cares?" I cried as I ran through the town. "Does anyone care? Look at you! Look at you!" I shouted at everyone I passed. "There are no snowmen, snowballs, icicles or anyone sledding. Where is the spirit?" I cried.

I couldn't find anyone to tell me what happened to the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas. Finally I came upon some children who looked so sad and disappointed.

"Please tell me why, my child, you don't believe," I said.

The little boy turned to me with a cold and saddened look.

"Don't you know," he replied and laughed in my face. "I'm too old."

Confused, I continued my search for the answer. I went from here to there seeking what I could find. Some told me Christmas was for children. Others told me it was too commercial.

"Have you all lost the meaning?" I screamed as I stood shivering in the cold wet snow.

No one said a word; all was quiet. All that could be heard were the snowflakes falling onto the icy ground. The people continued to pass without saying a word. Not even a Merry Christmas or Happy New Year. The silence was finally broken when a small voice echoed throughout the night.

"Humbug!" shouted one boy as he turned and disappeared out of sight.

As I stood in the cold, wet snow, everything seemed so helpless and empty. I stood that night on Little Jaybird Lane and looked out about the town as the lights slowly went off. As I sat on a bench, I tried to reason with myself and wondered what could have gone wrong. As the night passed, I dozed a bit until I was awakened by a jingle, jingle, jingle. High in the dark sky, I saw a blinking red light. It's Santa, I thought. When he flew over the little town and disappeared out of my sight, I thought to myself that another year has gone with no presents, gifts or trees. But, wait one minute, wait a minute. What was it that I heard? Is it? Oh, no, it couldn't be, I said to myself.

I looked to my left and then to my right. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, I heard it again. Hurriedly, I rushed to the sound as the icy snow crunched under my steps. I rushed to hear that one sweet sound; a giggle that I hadn't heard in such a long time. I pressed my face against the cold snowy glass and quickly looked inside. I saw old Edgar and Wee Willie Ruth playing jacks. They were both laughing and giggling. They were so happy. I watched the two, the young and old, and found the answer to my question of what happened to the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas. That's it, I thought.

Over the years, the townspeople lost their childlike heart. There's nothing wrong with being a child at heart, at times. Look at old Edgar; he's the oldest of them all. Hurriedly, I ran to the town square and rang the town bell. I yanked it as hard as I could. Ring-a-ling, ring-a-ling it rang throughout the town.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" I screamed. "Just because you have grown older doesn't mean Christmas is not for you. Awake, I say."

Immediately, the lights in every home came on and the townspeople ran outside to see what was going on. They all gathered in the town square to hear what I had to say.

"Christmas is for all, young and old. It's celebrated with a childlike heart," I announced.

As the townspeople looked about, they listened to what I said and then looked at each other. Then, Edgar, the oldest, and Willie Ruth, the youngest, came forth.

"Merry Christmas to you all," said Edgar.

"I love you," stated Willie Ruth.

"And so do I," cried Edgar.

No one really knows what happened that night. But, whatever it was, it changed everything for the Dry Ridge community. They started laughing, giggling and having fun. They threw snowballs at each other and made snowmen. It had been a long time since they had that much fun.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time," spoke up one.

"So have I," said another.

The story has it that their cold hearts grew as the snowballs flew. The faster they threw, the bigger their hearts got. When the joy and love rushed through their hearts, their long faces became short and round. Their heavy brows lifted; their eyes sparkled with their smiles. Out of nowhere, they started singing Christmas songs which warmed their hearts.

Edgar shouted, "Let's keep this from ever happening again! We need to always keep the holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas."

"We'll be ready for next year," shouted the townspeople.

Now, that is what happened to the little community of Dry Ridge's holly jolly, jingle jingle and ho, ho, ho in Christmas. From that day forth, the Christmas spirit never left them again because they kept it in their childlike hearts.

*****

Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy

The Wrapping May Have Been Cheap but the Gift Was Precious

Matthew 1:23

Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.

The grandkids were at Papa and Granny's house visiting for Christmas. Stephen and Isaac were playing in the floor and Jessie was helping Granny in the kitchen.

"Isaac and Stephen, what are you two doing in there?" yelled Granny from the kitchen.

"Nothing, Granny," they replied.

"Boys, you better quiet down or I'm coming in there."

Well, they stayed quiet for a while. But, Granny had to yell at them again. It was just another typical evening at Papa and Granny's house. Shortly afterwards, Jessie came in the room where Papa and the boys were.

"Papa, I'm bored; there's nothing to do," she complained.

"I thought you were helping Granny," he replied.

"I'm tired of helping Granny. Plus, it's no fun," she stated.

"Why don't you watch television," he said.

Jessie replied, "That's no fun. Papa will you tell us a Christmas story?" she asked as she crawled onto his lap.

"Well, I don't know," he replied. "Let me think for a minute."

Jessie told the boys to gather around because Papa was going to tell them a Christmas story. Isaac and Stephen stopped what they were doing, went over and sat on the floor next to Papa's chair. A Christmas story, Papa thought.

"Well, what about the night before..."

"No, not that one Papa," interrupted Jessie. "We have already heard that one."

"What about the one about the snowman?" Papa asked.

"No," said Stephen and Isaac, "we know that one by heart."

Jessie said, "We want a Christmas story we have never heard before."

Papa thought a few minutes. He had no idea what story he could tell them.

"Granny, Papa is going to tell us a Christmas story if he can think of one," the kids said when Granny walked into the room.

Granny whispered in Papa's ear. He just smiled real big and nodded his head.

"That's it," he said. "That will be a good one. I had almost forgotten about that one."

Granny told the boys they had better be quiet, sit still and listen to the story.

Jessie asked, "What's the name of the story, Papa? What is it about?"

Papa reached over, picked up his Bible from the table and put it in his lap.

"The story is called the wrapping may have been cheap, but the gift was precious."

"Huh?" said the kids as they looked at each other with a puzzled look.

"What kind of story is that?" questioned Stephen.

"Shhh," hushed Jessie. "Boys, you had better be quiet or I'm going to tell Granny. Go on Papa," she said.

Isaac started laughing at Stephen.

"That means you too, Isaac," Jessie said.

"Shhh, shhh," hushed Papa. "Listen to the story."

"Luke 2:1-14 says, 'And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'"

Isaac looked up and asked, "Papa, why wasn't Jesus born in a hospital like we were?"

"There were no hospitals back then, Isaac," replied Papa.

"But couldn't he have been born somewhere else besides an old stable?" asked Stephen.

Jessie said, "They tried the inn, didn't they Papa? There was no room for them, though."

"That's right, Jessie," Papa replied. "There was no room for them in the inn or anywhere else for the Christ child to be born, except in a stable, in a manger."

"Listen," said Jessie, "what's that?"

"It's someone singing," Stephen said as they all ran and looked out the window.

"Look, Papa; it's the carolers."

They listened to the carolers sing Away in a Manger.

Papa and the children waved at the carolers after they finished singing and watched them disappear out of sight. They all went back and sat down so Papa could finish the story.

"What happened next, Papa?" Jessie asked.

Papa said, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son. God loved us so much that he showed his love through his son, Jesus Christ, the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. The wrapping may have been cheap, but the gift (Jesus) was precious."

"Wow, Papa, what a story," they all said.

"You see all those presents under the tree, wrapped in pretty paper, ribbons and bows," he said as he pointed to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. "And see the tree all dressed in lights and balls of silver and gold."

"Yes, Papa," they all said.

"Children," he said, "we have a lot to be thankful for. But the greatest of all gifts is that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was born in a manger wrapped in swaddling clothes. He was God's love to us and God's love to the world."

The wrapping may have been cheap, but the gift (Jesus) was precious. Amen!

*****

Discover other children's titles by Bobby A. Troutt at Smashwords.com

Giggle Book One

Giggle Book Two

Giggle Book Three

Leftover from the Holidays

Tickle Box

Socks Without Matches

Bobby A. Troutt is a southern writer who writes a variety of short stories and children's books.
