It was near the middle of December when the incredible happened. Oh my: After the venison had been processed, ground in the old fashioned hand grinder, raisins and spices added, mother would feed the wood stove till the oven gauge hovered around 450 degrees, while mother rolled out the pastry and filled the deep dish pie plates with brother John’s trophy deer meat. When we came in from chores the room was full of spicy aroma’s that would please a king! The following lines relate to the tale that I experienced after eating mother’s creation.
I stood upon the coping of the tallest building known. I tried to walk that dangerous ledge, barefooted and all alone. I started very bravely, then I turned to look behind and saw a demon coming of the most ferocious kind: He bade me get a move on, and I started in a run and slipped and lost my balance, and I knew that I was done.
I had a wild encounter with a mad and awful beast, his eyes were bulged with malice, for he’d picked me for a feast. I tried to scream, but couldn’t. He growled in a fearful note, and gave one spring towards me and his fangs sank in my throat. One gulp and it was over. It was too black to see, but I knew beyond all question that the end had come for me. I tumbled from an airplane and looped and looped around and was 27 minutes on my journey to the ground. I bumped a dozen steeples on my perilous descent and left as many flagstaffs either snapped in two or bent.
But when I woke in terror, I discovered with a sigh how much of real excitement lurks in Mother’s “hot mince pie”!
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