Adventures in Polecat Hollow

The assignment in Sunday School last week was for each member to write a mission statement for his or her life? It has frankly been a struggle for some of the folks in Polecat Hollow. Uncle Hinky wondered if they meant up until that point or beyond. At 105 he wonders how many more changes might be in store for him. He figures that if he can hand out a little more advice here and there and if someone takes it, his days will not be in vain. He said that. He even wrote it down. But he didn't give much more thought to it. "It sounds good," he told Byron. "It's about what you'd expect an old goat to say." Inside, he figured no one would ask for advise and he'd be under no obligation to actually give it - certainly free of the responsibility if it didn't work out. Miss Prudence is not quite so old (but considerably older than anyone else she knows well) and is always looking forward with clarity and wonder. There are so many things she has not yet don...

Buster, Sally, Spike, Mahilda ,Elmo, and Igmund G. Goodfellow III were a little bored last Saturday so they decided to invent a new card game. It is called " Snizzle ." There are three decks of cards involved. The object is to end up with all the cards (except those on the board). Each participant gets 2 hands. They are competing against other players, but also against themselves . If they get short on cards they can "merge" them into one hand. This is called a " dizzle ." When they have enough for two hands again, it is called an " un - dizzle ." The last dizzle will be just before a "drizzle." When that happens, everyone else has folded. That is called a "fizzle." So the object of Snizzle is to dizzle and undizzle until the last dizzle causes your friends to fizzle into your drizzle.

Happy times Simple rhymes Shiny new dimes Trilling chimes Mountain climbs And the scent of Polecat Hollow

There is a rumor that the City of Polecat Hollow is trying to annex Skunkville. Mayor Simpleton's office was contacted today and he categorically denied that he had appointed a study committee comprised of Igmund G. Goodfellow Senior, Billy Bud Blueblood, and Guy Dance to strategize on the matter at the February Redevelopment Board meeting. This came as news to Goodfellow who was contacted this afternoon by reporters from KPU radio and The Scent of Polecat Hollow. "The mayor seems to be confused in his recollections of that meeting," he said. "His exact quote was 'let's swallow them.'" The mayor's response was that he was simply using that term to indicate affection as the larfer town sought ways to honor the smaller on their 100th aniversery. "You know how old folks used to tell kids that they were so cute they could just eat you up," he explained. Apparently the town council of Polecat Hollow's cute counterpart isn't feeling...

What we discovered in church today is that we simply cannot judge a braggard by his brags. There is more to Flavius than meets the eye. He has pain and struggles that no one knows and with a little patience and love, he can find his humble, centered self.

I can't remember exactly when Flavius moved to town, but I do remember that it was an awful shock at the time. Like so many immigrants to Polecat Hollow, he had lost his sense of smell through a series of misfortunes and had migrated to the hills to be among his "own kind." By, "his own kind," he would have described those with a high tolerance for odoriferous anomalies such as are frequent in our skunk affluent environment. But, he didn't really get it. He was as pretentious as his name with all the ironies that are normally associated with conceit. Flavius simply had the most uncanny ability to offend, belittle, and alienate with a tip of his nose skyward that the town had ever seen. He seemed to believe that he was better than everyone else and was intent upon presenting that image in every possible circumstance. What the townsfolk did not know from the beginning and what would bring out their eventual characteristic compassion was something about hi...

The word around town is that some of the residents have been talking and it is creating quite a stir. There will be a meeting tonight at Mabel's Tea Cup. She'll keep the place open as long as necessary until this is sorted out and the leak is plugged. Some of the news that has been coming out from "unnamed sources" and that remains unsubstatiated: Uncle Hinkey's late night visits to the bowling alley when Miss Prudence Love just happens to show up. Billie and Billy Bud Blueblood's rumored substitution of mountain oysters for similar products from local skunks leading to a decrease in population growth. Mayor Simpleton's consideration of a 14th term. A rumored movie and book deal to expose all the secrets of Polecat Hollow. The Loyal Order of Goobers' annual skunk tail hat sale. Call 555-233-3322 for more information. Competitive prices and 3 styles to choose from. Some call that gorilla marketing at its worst.

The Mayor was able to intervene with the manager of the extraction plant to solve the problem we reported a while back. Since I am witholding most of my material for a book, that is about all I can share. But I will let this bit of information loose from my grip: It involved the entire Goober den, the Junior Goobies and some equipment brought in by a busload of masked chemists from Visalia, lots of hoses and sucking machines. It was loud, but it was cleared up in a few days. KPU radio reports that all is well in the Burg. I apologize for the gap between reports. I'll try to do better.

Someone disconnected the musk meter in the extraction plant last week and there was heck to pay. While most PolcatHollowers relish the aroma of dissipated skunk scent, the concentration necessary to produce perfume is tantamount to overdosing on unsweetened chocolate. Extractions are a delicate art.

Blogger Buzz: There are four lights Let's try this again. Polecat Hollow is my attempt at fiction. A I agree, there should be more in the blogsphere.

Part 1 - The Dream Bang! Bang! Bang! Sally woke up with a start to find Buster knocking on her door. She lifted her sleepy head enough to take note of the time. It was 2:30 A.M. and Buster was now in her room with the light on looking as pale as a sheet. “I had a dream,” he blurted out. “I was dreaming too, big brother. At least I was until you scarred me to death. Whatever happened to running to Mom’s and Dad’s for comfort?” “I’m too old for that, Sally. Besides, it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a dream.” “Couldn’t it wait until morning?” Sally was sitting up now, but Buster was still standing over her. “I needed to talk about it, “ Buster said. “I think God might have been talking to me or something weird like that. Last night before I went to sleep, I was reading a story about missionaries. When I prayed, I told the Lord that if He wanted me to be a missionary, He’d have to let me know.” “Well, what’s so strange about that?” ...

There is a saying in Polecat Hollow: "You can lead a skunk to the extraction facility, but you can't make him stink." I am not sure what that means, but it rings true. Uncle Hinky says that a man is what a man is, what he will be whatever that pretty little girls wants him to be until the preachers says, "husband and wife." "You can lead a man to the altar and after that, he may start to stink." You see, I'm not sure what that means either. Miss Prudence has never been married. Nor does she fancy herself an expert on men or skunks, but she does have her own version of the saying. "The altar doesn't alter the alter-ego." This is really getting to be a bit much for me. Folks in my town just say whatever they want to say and don't spend a lot of time worrying about what anyone thinks about it or whether or not it makes any sense. Eventually, something makes sense and it gains in popularity, repeated until no one remembers the meaning...

It is very cold in Polecat Hollow right now, the coldest May since as far back as Uncle Hinkey can remember. It is so cold that the skunks are all at least an hour late for extractions every morning. That's cold!

Thanks to my friend Ivy in the Religion Forum for giving me the ocassion to post this explanation of our town. >>Hmmm........what is that? Drive due East from Fresno in 180 and when the road ends keep going on I180 (That's I for imagination). Turn right at the summit where the sign says, "Doubleback." You are now in Doubleback County. Begin your descent and hold your nose. You'll pass the turnoff to Skunkville. Keep going. The musk factory will be on your left (Polecat Hollow Skunk Works). Never mind the line of Polecats awaiting daily extraction. It is painless and really quite pleasurable for them. You'll notice an odor an it will get stronger and stronger as you get closer to town. Stop by Billie's House of Moutain Oysters just outside town and tell her the Mayor, Byron T. Simpleton sent you. That's me. She's my sister, you know. A lot of people don't know that, but she is. I love her ... I guess ... Mom did ....... ..... best. But t...

Uncle Hinky was delighted to hear the news Buster brought about Horace. In skunk years, Horace was Hinky's contemporary. In people years, that number is quite few. Uncle Hinky, (aka Thaddeus T. Hinklebeiner Jr.) is the living legacy of the later years of his old daddy's life. Longevity and virility run in the Hinklebeiner family. The Colonel, Hinky Senior - otherwise known as "The Colonel," had been married two times before he came to Polecat Hollow in 1879. He was well into adulthood at as married three that point and a widower for many years. In fact, he did not marry again until 1900 and began to sire children every 18 months until a son came along - Uncle Hinky. Ask him how many brothers and sisters he has had and he won't be able to tell you for sure, but he knows it is over 20 and he is the last of them In fact, there had been a junior for each wife, but all died before he was born. This morning, he is savoring a cup of coffee at Mabel's Tea Cup, his reg...

Some of the skunks in and around Polecat Hollow have been hybernating for the winter. The heartier souls have carried on their work and the domesticated ones have simply slept indoors. There is a slightly diminished aroma during the darkest, coldest days of winter. If it were not for the musk factory and the constant byproducts of production from the fall extractions, folks would find the absence of skunk scent hard to bear. After all, once you have grown accustomed to something, change is very difficult. So everyone, every year waits with anticipation for the Spring thaw and plans the first serendipidous celebration of the season upon the earliest siting of the grand awakening. The Junior Goobies have set up observation outposts outside of caves and other known hiding places of their fury friends. They have also placed little snacks outside the entrances as a way of welcoming them to the new day. Buster was so excited this morning that he could not contain himself. On his morning walk...

Uncle Hinky meandered onto Main Street. There is nothing wrong with meandering when your 100th birthday was "some time back." It was not meaningless meandering. Uncle Hinky knows nothing of meaninglessness. Every step he takes is purposeful. At his age, you really have to watch your step. He likes to say that every age has its version of step-watching necessity. When he was young, he felt the need to watch his step around ladies. When he was older, he felt the same need. Now he doesn't feel all that intimidated in that particular dimension of his life, but he is very careful about uneven sidewalks and potholes. It's not that he isn't spry and he certainly isn't blind, but some things stand out as more immediate in their concerns. Immediate concerns have always been a topic of interest for Uncle Hinky. Years ago, while on his ay to an important appointment he came across a mad skunk. Now skunks are friendly sites to Polecat Hollow dwellers, but mad skunks are a...

First you turn west at I1800. That's "I" for imagination. Then you make a left here and a right there and a few other turns into the obscurity of ambiguity until you begin a long elevation to the peak of the mountain where you'll find a broken down old sign that says, "Double Back." You can take that as an instruction, and warning, or an indication that you are about to enter Doubleback County and begin your descent into Polecat Hollow. Whatever you decide, be advised: There is no turning back from this point on. Once you have been there, you'll keep coming back. Your perspective will change. You'll be quirkier and quicker and it will be a tad more difficult to distinguish between reality and fantasy. Most of all, it will effect your senses. What once repulsed, will entice. What once irked will invite your interest. What once seemed absurd will seem quite normal. You've been warned. Enter at your own risk. In short, you will soon agree with the l...