The Greatest Story Mabel Told

The elusive Mabel resurfaced this morning at 11:00. She was calling from her new I-phone. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I was perfectly capable of talking to her on my 4-year-old Motorola V220, which is now the oldest phone in the family, since my mom finally upgraded from her old blue brick-looking Nokia (that was rumored to be 7 years old and didn't even flip, by cracky), because the phone company was going to charge her an extra dollar a month to use it. Mabel is always good for some classified info, and she hit one out of the park this time. Sorry, I can't discuss the details. Get you own Mabel.

Mabel also gave me today's tale for the Strange But True file. Forgive me, Mabel, if I am a bit sketchy on the specifics. Unbeknownst to Mabel, there was a bit of sibling warfare being conducted under the very nose of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom during the conversation. In keeping the sparring factors from spilling blood (a sight which Mabel would NOT want to see, even if her I-phone could sit down, cross its legs, and sketch the spurting bodily fluid with colored chalk on a caricature flip-page tablet resting on an easel, much like a vendor at the Labor Day Picnic), some details were lost. I have taken artistic license, and written my report as I see fit, with much willy-nilly tap tap tapping of keys upon my Crashy, details be darned. I am in the entertainment business, you know...not a stringer for the Hooterville Gazette.

Seems that Mabel had been at her mother's house, doing her chores like a good little Mabel; chores such as replacing batteries and light bulbs and buying a new mattress and box springs ensemble. Mabel mabed herself a helper, and wrestled the combo into the dwelling. She applied bedding. And found out the bed was now too high for the mom. The Mom, taking a tip from the Roloff family, volunteered to use a step-stool to climb into bed each night. Mabel was not too crazy on the idea. She really needs to order her mom one of those $400 Roloff step-stools. Who can put a price on her mother's counting of the elusive ZZZZZZs, after all? Apparently, Mabel. Or perhaps she is not familiar with the Roloff stool. Methinks Mabel needs a Roloff stool sample.

Anyhoo, as Mabel traipsed around the bed, looking for a solution, waiting for inspiration to strike her...she got the most scathingly brilliant idea! She would cut four inches off the bedposts! Not being a union card-holder in the world's oldest profession (CARPENTER, you naughty, non-Designing Women-watching pervs), Mabel sweet-talked a friend into helping. We shall call him 'Wally', which is as good a name as any, considering it's his actual name, though I don't think he ever had a lawnmower burst into flame after loaning it to someblogger who shall remain nameless.

Mabel brought Wally and his circular saw over to the abode, and they plotted the cutting-edge leg surgery that would soon allow The Mom to sleep like a log on her new mattress. Providing, of course, that Mabel did not stoop to some tomfoolery such as stashing a pea under the mattress. The more Team Mabel-Wally thought about the operation, the more wishy-washy their scheme became. The bed could not be moved out of the room. It was bolted too tightly. The circular saw plan was not holding water. Then Wally confessed: "I am really better with my hand saw." So off they went, in the middle of the operation, to fetch the new instrument. I'm tellin' ya, these two surgeons might as well hire on at County General, now that one-armed Romano is pushin' up daisies after that unfortunate second helipcopter accident.

As reported by Mabel, Mabel lifted the bed so that Wally could accurately measure four inches on each bedpost. It wouldn't do to be off a bit, and then have to trim some more off one leg, and then another leg, and, well, it could be the neverending leg-trimming surgery, which would most likely end badly, with The Mom sleeping on a pallet on the floor. Not IN the floor. Laws, NO! M-O-O-N, that spells "Only Missouri and Oklahoma people sleep IN the floor...the rest of y'all sleep ON the floor." Anyhoo...the operation was a success. The bed is now four inches shorter. The Mom can get a good night's rest, without even needing that giant green Lunesta moth to flutter over her bed in a creepy, glowing, hallucinatory cartoon moth kind of way.

And I got a great story for my blog. If anybody wants to option the movie rights, drop me a comment. Mabel never reads them. What Mabel doesn't know won't hurt me.