Tales with Moral Trimmings and True Grits
IF Y'ALL HAVE ANY WORRIES LEAVE THEM AT THE DOOR. WE’LL SHARE OURS – THEY’RE MORE FUN.
Possum is a chatty possum who lives on a farm on the banks of North Bayou and just outside the village of Patch Grove. Here, with his friend Cooter, a small boy who loves molasses, Evangeline an impossibly tiny puppy belonging to the farm owner, Mister Bubba, and their gang of children, Gretchen and her miniature violin, Jonah, a teeny child, Baby Jesus, even teenier, a catfish who thinks he’s a whale and more playful pals. Their antics always find them on the wrong end of a misunderstanding.
What happens when a fine and chatty possum and his best friend, Cooter, a young boy who fancies molasses, decide to disguise a puppy as a sheep, thwart the county’s pie thieves, and resort to seers and psychics to save a croaking critter – why sho ‘nuff shooten, n’ encounter with the bible, a village in a frazzle, n’ a reward of mo’ money than had ever been seen.
A true story from the Bible, mostly, that involves biddy Jonah, 14 babies, a catfish, fatback, a bridge, Cooter’s favorite cane fishing pole and what to do with a fortune. Afore you go sayin’ this ain’t nobody’s bidnis it shore was ours see’in weez was in a mess a ‘splaining. Why the hole world was outta kilter n’ weez was bein’ blamed.
Needing a way to transport a mountain of jars and the catfish, Possum and pals find a sidecar attached to a motorcycle, of course that awl bein’ after Shariff Cotton and Deputy Frog goes cattywampus in their police car getting’ it awls in the bob war a Mayor May’s farm. Had ta’ do supin’ with awls those jars theys was a transportating n’ that’s how comes weez gets the sidecar … mostly.
Mayor May and the Yankee tourists lookin’ fo’ Baby Jesus. This was definitely not our fault. Baby Jesus, pronounced Hey-zuss, being our pal an’ no one would listen how his name was said, see’in he was from Cuber, that bein’ the island surrounding Havaner … sos we decides to make some money from the Yankee folks who comes down here every winter ta’ cause traffic jams an’ other aggravatin n’ ignert idears like wantin’ dinner at night time when we awl knows dinner is at the middle a the day.
Again we, meanin’ me, Possum, Cooter, Baby Jesus and the Catfish who thinks he’s a whale, had nuttin’ ta’ do with this critter bein’ lost and livin’ in Mister Bubbas freezer an’ the purchase of a mess, that bein a truckload, a sardines … him bein’ hungry, that bein’ the penguin not Mister Bubba. Warnt no more than a good deed … mostly … well started thataway. Lord a’mercy! Everyone havin’ conniptions over nuttin’ … well almost nuttin … mostly.