Dear Amos,
Mrs. Smith's! No lie. Millie saw Erma in the frozen food section at the supermarket in town last weekend. Three boxes of apple and two peach (I wonder who's comin' to call on her?). Lawdy...to imagine! How many blue ribbons has that woman won at the county fair? It just don't seem right to the poor widow Mrs. Neff. Even though last year her huckleberry pie forced three of the judges to hole up a good part of the day in the porta-johnny. You didn't hear about that? Nearly brought the fair to a close, the lines to go to the bathroom were so long... But, dogonnit! at least the poor widow Mrs. Neff did all of her baking from scratch. Well, anyway, it was appreciated by poor Mr. Neff. How he dearly loved her huckleberry pies, right up to the day he died. With a fork in his hand, the poor dear. He was only 27, you know. Anyway, back to Erma, it always seemed mighty peculiar to me that she never....I think I hear somebody coming. I better go now. Hope your corns feel better.
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Hey Amos,
I picked up the Hucklefield Morning Star today at Ike's and you won't believe this! Erma was disqualified from the Quilting Bee held yesterday in the town square. Damn, when it rains it pours! First Selma Jones ratted on Erma about the Mrs. Smith's Apple Pies and now she's been snubbed by the Town Square Beautification Committee (formerly the Ladies' Afternoon Tea Society). She was kicked off the June Bakeoff judging panel and fired as director of the church choir.
I saw her yesterday slinkin around town wearing dark black sunglasses and a black wig, running from store to store to do her shopping. Most folks are steering clear of her until all this blows over. That is, IF it blows over...
Even Betty Halson turned on her. Betty works the register at the market, and she told everyone about how Erma should've bought STOCK in Mrs. Smith's, by the number of those pies she bought over the past decade. They were best friends a week ago!
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Dear Amos,
I hope you're doing well these days.
I'm dog tired this morning, after shootin pool with Martin over at the Corner Cue last night. I was just rackin up another set of balls when in flew Henry Halson, Betty's husband. He was huffin and puffin about something and it took two belts of whiskey to calm him down enough to talk. Erma, he says, was shopping downtown, mindin her own business and keepin to herself. But in the checkout line (mind you, Erma didn't get into Betty Halson's checkout line seeing they had that falling out just the other day), Mrs. Neff took a couple jabs at Erma. You KNOW how they've always been rivals when it came to their huckleberry pies, and it finally came to a head. Erma surprised everyone by pulling off her sunglasses and wig and opening up on Mrs. Neff like there was no tomorrow! Erma said that everyone in the damn town KNEW that Mrs. Neff had some strange fascination with sending people to the porta-johnny at the annual fair with whatever she put into those pies. Erma kept going, as everyone in the market fell silent and listened to her rantin and ravin.
Mrs. Neff stood her ground solid as a statue. According to Betty, who saw the whole thing from her register, Mrs. Neff got a strange, glazed look in her eye. Finally, with Erma vergin on complete hysteria, she accused Mrs. Neff of putting her husband in the grave with that huge, deep-dish huckleberry pie, years back. As you can imagine, everyone listened with the keenest interest, seein that Mrs. Neff lived well after collecting that big insurance policy.
The police chief heard everything from the deli counter where he was waitin on a half-pound of swiss for the Missus. When Mrs. Neff finally caved in and started sobbing, he strode over to diffuse the situation. Suddenly, in front of the whole damn place, Mrs. Neff shouted "I DID IT!" again and again, then she fainted, slain in the spirit on the storeroom floor. After reviving Mrs. Neff, the chief drove her down to the station. She's been there ever since. The whole town is abuzz, with one story after another coming out about Mrs. Neff's nack for giving people food and drink that did them bad a few hours later. Seems we had a closet psycho in our midst for the past fifty YEARS!
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Dear Amos:
Well, the word is finally out on Mrs. Neff. Sorry you're the last one to hear all of this, but I waited until the official story was in the paper before writin you about it.
Mrs. Neff confessed to killing her first and only husband, Henry, by poisoning a pie she baked for him. She said she experimented on the family dog to get the right mixture of poisons. Then, into a huckleberry pie it went, at full strength.
She claims to have had a really bad childhood, which no one in town really knew about, seeing that she was from halfway across the country. She told the sheriff that she saw too much of her own father in Henry, and voices told her to kill him. She resisted the demons at first, but they eventually won her over, driving her insane with bad headaches and other sickness.
If you ask me, she's trying to get off with an insanity defense so she can go back to enjoying the money and house that Henry left her those many years ago.
There's more theories flying around than in one of those egg-head "think-tanks" that Uncle Sam puts together every time America needs a bigger bomb. All I can say is that everyone in town knows that she's guiltier than a jaybird. The only arguments are about whether or not she's crazy or just plain evil.
Erma showed up at one of the town meetings, and people were treatin her mighty fine, seeing that she's the one who brought the dirty deed to light. She went from being the town scapegoat to the village heroine in a single day. Ernie the news editor is ordering a front page story on her. Mrs. Smith's or not, she helped bring a murderer to justice.
In fact, she put a few more nails into Mrs. Neff's coffin, by bringing up the fact that long after Henry was gone, Mrs. Neff made people sick with her baking. Erma suggested what everyone else has been thinking -- that Mrs. Neff needs the electric chair to solve her problems, once and for all.
All hail Erma!
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Dear Amos:
Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Amos! Happy birthday to you! So, how does it feel to be 30? Are you showing any wrinkles yet? I hope you got the care package that mom sent you, including my little addition.
As to how things are going around here, the weather has been hotter than hell, with afternoon thunderstorms cutting off power practically every night. With the TV's sittin' idle, people've been congregatin out on the porch.
Every night, Mrs. Neff is the favorite topic of conversation. By the way, she's at the County as I write, awaiting some sort of hearing at which she'll plead innocent. The trial won't happen for a couple months yet, and half the town will probably appear in the court room to testify for or against her. Mrs. Neff had few friends, as she always kept to herself. On the other hand, with the money she had, a lot of folks were jealous of her. Many would be delighted to help put her away for good.
Erma, on the other hand, is flying higher than a kite. She stopped over yesterday to deliver... you guessed it -- an APPLE pie! With mom's 35th anniversary come and gone, Erma brought over the pie to celebrate the union of our parents those many years ago. I still miss dear old dad. I tasted it, and the pie was DELICIOUS. Believe it or not, I went to the market and got a Mrs. Smith's apple pie. After baking it, I compared the taste between the two pies, and I can gladly say that Erma's was FAR superior. I think that from now on we'll see Erma doing her OWN baking instead of relying on the market freezer section!
Enjoy your birthday!
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Dear Amos:
Sorry I haven't written in so long, but the Labor Day weekend had me busy, what with the town picnic and the annual carnival and all. Overall, I'd say the celebration went well, and everyone I talked to asked about you. I told them you were in the big city and living the high life these days, though you missed the green hills of home on occasion.
The night before the carnival, Mr. Shott saw a strange light in the sky. He said it looked like a big glowing cigar, which appeared from above a large storm cloud and then went blazing through the sky. He claimed it was a flying saucer, of all things, and that it dropped behind some trees a few miles to the north. Can you believe that? Mr. Shott thinking that people from outer space would have some interest in our sleepy little town?
He was blabbin his story around the whole damn carnival while gulping beer that Curly donated from the bar (Schlitz, no less, so we all had our fill of the good stuff). He got so drunk he stumbled into the dart booth and got nailed in the left cheek by, you guessed it, little Johnny Porto. Johnny probably could've held back with the darts, but that big, wide behind of Mr. Shott was too ripe a target.
Oh, and I forgot to mention -- Erma won the baking contest! With Mrs. Neff long gone and awaiting trial without bail, Erma dusted off the recipe book her mother left her. When the smoke cleared, it wasn't even a CONTEST. I find it amazing, and perhaps a credit to human nature, that Erma submitted a Mrs. Smith's frozen pie last year then won the contest this year with her OWN baking.
I compiled a list of some of the carnival contest winners, just for the record:
Egg toss - Marty Snitten
Water balloon toss - Ellie Bishop
Bike race (junior) - Billy Snagg
Bike race (senior) - Timmy Johnson
Horseshoes - yours truly
Darts - Marty Snitten
Sack race - John Karpinsky
Checkers - Old man Ziffel
Pogo stick marathon - Amy Oskman
Banjo play - "One-eyed" Pete
Well, I'd better get this letter into the mailbox. A huge storm cloud is dropping in from the north, and I've never seen such fiery lightnin.
THE END (FOR NOW)...
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