Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and July 15th, 1920.
This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by... Winter. It's after the fall, but before the spring. Winter. It's somewhere in between.
And now on with A View of the Town, Episode 4...
As you might recall from the last time, I told you that I would tell you about the story about the Witch's Wood, but I've decided I've first got to another story off my chest. I told you about how Slumberman's Sawmill almost burnt down. Ignited by a forgotten firework which no one ever admitted to lighting. And of course, who would. So, it remained a mystery, until now. For you see, I know who lite that firework and how. It was a few days later, July 15th, when it came clear to me what I had missed. A pair of hooligans running for their lives down the back hill behind the mill.
As the new doctor in town, I had the privilege of meeting Mr. Amos Flathorn, local carpenter. He was small framed, but stocky, and I'd guess about 50. One the morning, a few days after the incident, Mr. Flathorn came into the office, limping in pain. When I asked what the problem was, he dropped his pants and pointed to a hefty two-inch splinter in the left part of his rump. After extracting the festering sliver of pine, I jokingly asked "And how did you get such an injury?" From that moment on, I felt like a priest hearing confession.
Mr. Flathorn lowered his head in shame. "It was really the wife's fault. I told her to hold it 'til we got home." He had caught my attention and asked him to continue. I was puzzled by what he meant 'hold it.' Mr. Flathorn began to tell me more. "She gets urges, you see... If you know what I mean." He grinned and winked. I remained silent, trying to not burst out laughing. Now I got what he meant by 'hold it.'
"So, we was on our way up to the mill to pick up some oak boards when she grabs me and drags me into the shed. I'm saying 'no, not now', but she hiking up her skirt and saying 'oh yes, right now. I can't hold it 'til we get home.'" He paused and shook his head. "When the misses takes a notion, there's not stopping her. She's a powerful woman."
Now being a good listener and a polite person, I wasn't sure I wanted to hear any details and had prepared myself to stop him, but I think he got the hint and got to the point. The splinter point. "You see, I laid on the bench while she... well... You know. She's a large woman and strong headed. After it was said and done, she light up a cigar, but accidentally dropped it and it rolled away under the bench. Next thing I knew, sparks were a flyin'. When I jumped up, that's when I got the splinter."
It wasn't until a few days later that I met Mrs. Flathorn. She was definitely a large woman, towered over Mr. Flathorn, and obviously wore the pants in that household. This wasn't exactly the kind of story I had expected. A couple setting of a firework while... well... you get the hint. Oh, I forgot to mention... Mr. Flathorn told me he was 65 and Mrs. Flathorn a very young 67; although they don't look it. With that, you can see why I found this story incredible.
Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about the Witch's Woods and how it came to be known as the scariest place not in town.
This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by... Winter. It's cold. It's bold. It's a winter. It will come back at the same time next year.
CSM
This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by... Winter. It's after the fall, but before the spring. Winter. It's somewhere in between.
And now on with A View of the Town, Episode 4...
As you might recall from the last time, I told you that I would tell you about the story about the Witch's Wood, but I've decided I've first got to another story off my chest. I told you about how Slumberman's Sawmill almost burnt down. Ignited by a forgotten firework which no one ever admitted to lighting. And of course, who would. So, it remained a mystery, until now. For you see, I know who lite that firework and how. It was a few days later, July 15th, when it came clear to me what I had missed. A pair of hooligans running for their lives down the back hill behind the mill.
As the new doctor in town, I had the privilege of meeting Mr. Amos Flathorn, local carpenter. He was small framed, but stocky, and I'd guess about 50. One the morning, a few days after the incident, Mr. Flathorn came into the office, limping in pain. When I asked what the problem was, he dropped his pants and pointed to a hefty two-inch splinter in the left part of his rump. After extracting the festering sliver of pine, I jokingly asked "And how did you get such an injury?" From that moment on, I felt like a priest hearing confession.
Mr. Flathorn lowered his head in shame. "It was really the wife's fault. I told her to hold it 'til we got home." He had caught my attention and asked him to continue. I was puzzled by what he meant 'hold it.' Mr. Flathorn began to tell me more. "She gets urges, you see... If you know what I mean." He grinned and winked. I remained silent, trying to not burst out laughing. Now I got what he meant by 'hold it.'
"So, we was on our way up to the mill to pick up some oak boards when she grabs me and drags me into the shed. I'm saying 'no, not now', but she hiking up her skirt and saying 'oh yes, right now. I can't hold it 'til we get home.'" He paused and shook his head. "When the misses takes a notion, there's not stopping her. She's a powerful woman."
Now being a good listener and a polite person, I wasn't sure I wanted to hear any details and had prepared myself to stop him, but I think he got the hint and got to the point. The splinter point. "You see, I laid on the bench while she... well... You know. She's a large woman and strong headed. After it was said and done, she light up a cigar, but accidentally dropped it and it rolled away under the bench. Next thing I knew, sparks were a flyin'. When I jumped up, that's when I got the splinter."
It wasn't until a few days later that I met Mrs. Flathorn. She was definitely a large woman, towered over Mr. Flathorn, and obviously wore the pants in that household. This wasn't exactly the kind of story I had expected. A couple setting of a firework while... well... you get the hint. Oh, I forgot to mention... Mr. Flathorn told me he was 65 and Mrs. Flathorn a very young 67; although they don't look it. With that, you can see why I found this story incredible.
Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher tells us about the Witch's Woods and how it came to be known as the scariest place not in town.
This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by... Winter. It's cold. It's bold. It's a winter. It will come back at the same time next year.
CSM
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