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Have Some Tea with Me,

I Have a Story to Tell You

By Granny Smith




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Have you ever had one of those experiences that left you wondering if it really happened? I did this morning, and frankly I am still wondering. Sit back, relax, have a cup of tea and listen to this. Then you tell me if it really did happen.

I am one of those people who is always in a hurry. This morning, I was rushing to get to the grocers. I ran a comb through my hair, grabbed my purse, and dashed through the door, leaving my list on the table. As I was driving along, I was going over the list in my head. I rounded the curve in the road, and to my surprise, I found myself behind one of those old horse-drawn milk wagons. Curiosity has always got the best of me and this was another instance where it had me full in its grip.

The wagon was plodding along; so I decided to follow for a while, just to satisfy my curiosity. You see, there were feathers flying everywhere. Thinking this to be rather unusual for a milk wagon, I drew closer for a better look. Lo and behold, a miniature pig was driving the wagon. He was wearing a straw hat, pink riding breeches, and a Kelly green jacket. Instead of a whip, he was wielding a butcher's knife. Is this strange enough for you yet? Believe me, it gets even better.

The wagon pulled to a stop in the middle of the road. The pig turned in his seat and started squealing something at me. I couldn't hear him, so I pulled closer and put the window down. "Are you stalking me woman? You must be totally mad to be following poor little piggy. I have weapons here, and I'm not afraid to use them. Did you remember your list?" He jumped from the wagon, pulled out an open can of peas from his coat pocket, and started flinging them off the tip of his knife. Stunned by his actions, I just sat there gaping at him with my mouth wide open. "Peas on you lady, I will tell you a thing or two about pork chops! NEVER cook them in syrup. Syrup is for pancakes only, NOT for pork chops."

Dripping with peas and pea juice, and wondering what this was all about, I just stammered a polite "yes sir" and pulled my head back in the car. He returned to his seat, and flinging more peas forward, shook the reins and yelled "Giddyap you foolish hens, we need to get this milk to the grocer before it curdles!" He turned his head and called back to me "Peas on you lady, you don't even know what a pork chop is, you foolish woman!"
What happened next was just as amazing, if not more so, as being assaulted by a pea tossing, knife wielding, and poorly dressed pig.

The wagon started to rise into the air! It was yoked to hundreds of chickens! No wonder I had seen feathers flying everywhere. Just as the front wheels cleared the road, it slammed back down with a resounding thud. The pig squealed, the chickens cackled and clucked, the milk spilt everywhere, and the wagon started to tip over….just enough for me to see underneath. EGGS! Thousands of eggs. I saw all colors and sizes, a veritable rainbow of eggs under that wagon. It seems, while Mr. Pig was busy ranting and raving and pelting me with peas, the chickens had been busy, very busy.

The wagon settled to the road, Mr. Pig got out, threw his hat to the ground and stomped on it for effect. I watched in awe as he pulled a golden kettle from his pants pocket, and place it in front of my car. Shrugging out of his coat, he crawled under the wagon and scooped up all the eggs. He threw them into the kettle and scrambled them, shells and all. "Mmmm, never go to the grocer's hungry." From his other pocket he pulled a gallon jug of syrup and poured it over the eggs. Diving into the kettle of eggs and syrup, he snorted and snuffled and slopped it all up. Finished with this mixture, he crawled out of the kettle, waddled over to the spilt milk, and lapped it up. He turned and looked me dead in the eye, and said, "Waste not, want not. Got Milk?"
By now, I was starting to get over my amazement at the events before me. I decided that I needed to get out of there before he ate me too! I pulled my car to the side, and tried to get around the mess without notice. As I pulled alongside him, he turned and winked at me. "You left your list on the table again." I quickly put the window up and drove past the pig, the wagon, the kettle, the chickens, and the empty syrup jug.
A mile down the road, I was idly picking feathers and peas off my coat, and wondering what I was supposed to pick up at the grocer's. "Milk, eggs, pork chops…what else? Oh yes, peas. I can never seem to remember the peas."

Now I ask you, was it real or was it just the imaginings of an old woman? You be the judge. Can I get you another cup of tea? Yours seems to have gotten cold.


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