The Cursed Cook

I was once asked to remove a curse from a frying pan. The pan belonged to a chuck wagon cook named “Salty.” "Salty" was renowned for his beans and bacon, and also his bad temper. Though Bleb and I were a little short on rations when we met "Salty" on the trail, he made no effort to share from his well-stocked supplies. Not long after we met he ran into a spate of bad luck.

“You remember that old Indian who was poking around the wagon the other night,” he said, “and how I swung my pan at him?"

"Yes," I said.

"Ever since, nothing cooks right in that pan. Food either burns or undercooks or tastes like something the steers left behind. I’d get me a new pan but I don’t get paid until the end of the drive. Know anything that will help?”

“It sounds like you angered a desert spirit,” I said. “The Indians expect hospitality and you broke their law, which still applies out here. Getting a new pan won’t help.”

“What should I do?” said "Salty."

“I’d offer a meal to the spirits through an animal representative,” I said.

“What kind of animal?” he asked.

“Well,” I said, “mules are known to descend from a desert breed, and are more kindly disposed to humans than coyotes. I’d start there.”

“I ain't gonna spoil my team,” he protested. “It might give them ideas. You reckon yours will do?”

“I don’t see why not,” I said. “I’ve seen Bleb deal with wild spirits before.”

The cook pulled out several Dutch ovens and set to work. Inside an hour he’d prepared a pot full of grits, a dozen biscuits with sorghum syrup, half a pail of beans and salt pork and six helpings of fried apple pie. Bleb ate it all.

“That ought to do it,” I said.  "Though you might want to test it on a human.”

“You!” he shouted at me. “Try these eggs and bacon and cornbread and fried potatoes!”

I obliged, and after a couple plates I pronounced them edible.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, though I was pretty sure earlier,” I said. “My mule normally won’t touch grits. It binds him up.”

Bleb and I continued eastward while the cattle drive moved west. I heard later that the cook got a job with Delmonico’s in New York City, so I guess the curse was truly broken –  plus there was no more manure tea in his frying pan.

Copyright © 2013 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

A Tiff in Tombstone

There was a fracas in Tombstone yesterday. I was engaged in a friendly card game, minding my own business, when a fellow ran in and asked if I would please hold his pistol for him, as he had urgent business in Texas. I told him of course I would, for a small fee. He hurriedly pulled out a wad of bills from one pocket, said, “keep the change,” and skedaddled out the back door.

I happened to have a fine set of aces within easy reach at that moment and planned to double his largesse, but gunfire suddenly erupted outside. I sought cover. A minute or so later Marshal Earp strode in. He pulled me by my coat collar from under the table and demanded to know if I’d seen anyone run through. At first I denied seeing anyone, but he recognized the gun I was holding. He searched my pockets. When he found my holding fee, plus the tip the fellow had left, he put me under arrest. The marshal claimed that the man I’d assisted was really a cattle thief and I was in league with him. I denied it, of course. The marshal promised that I would hang.

I worked out a deal, though. I will show the marshal and his men the direction in which the fellow ran, and the marshal will release me – after deducting a small holding fee. It is not an exorbitant charge -- it exactly matches the amount that fellow paid me, plus the tip. I’m glad to know my prices are level with this area’s marketplace.

I expect to explain that later today when folks ask me about the price of Wizard Water^©.




[Thanks to the Booth Western Art Museum Cowboy Festival for another great event!]

Copyright © 2013 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

A Timely Aid

I was once arrested for selling Wizard Water^© on a Sunday. I sold the elixir on a Saturday, but the client applied it to the gears of a broken clock, and the timepiece fast-forwarded a full day. This was in a town so far out West that trains had to set their schedules ahead in order to arrive on time. The clock advance just evened things out, for folks in that town were already late receiving most things.

The pastor had to rush out a sermon, however, mistakenly preached a funeral instead, and was mighty upset. He complained to the sheriff, who put me in handcuffs.

I knew the law, though, and cited it when I went before the judge.

“You see, sir, I conducted the business on a Saturday. You recall for you were there. You cannot convict for breaking the law before it went into effect.” He had to agree and let me go.

I prefer being ahead of the facts than behind them.

Copyright © 2013 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Keeping Things Light

I was in Dahlonega again yesterday for another Mountain Music & Medicine Show. Dahlonega, located in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, is renowned as a gold-mining town. Though rich in ore, its inhabitants have few medical options, however, and not much professional entertainment to lift the spirits of the ill or their loved ones. I hate to see all those poor, hard-working miners suffer for lack of Wizard Water or the cheering distraction of a friendly card game. This is why I visit so often -- to lighten their burdens as best I can.

A Pot of Stew

Wizard Water^© is a wonderful tonic, but do not use it as the basis for a meal. I had a customer who tried this with a pot of his wife’s rutabaga stew. In lieu of regular water, he emptied an entire case of Wizard Water^© into her kettle. He reported to me afterwards that he could not get to the bottom of the pot. His wife was overjoyed, and that winter served rutabaga stew every night. He grew quite tired of the stuff, but she would not hear of disposing of it. He offered the stew to neighbors and friends, and even to bankers in repayment for loans, but the pot continued to produce more stew.

Finally one night, when his wife was sound asleep, he snuck the pot out of the house and far into the woods, and left it there. Upon his return, he scattered utensils about the yard and left the kitchen door open. When his wife awoke the next morning, he feigned ignorance of the matter.

“A bear,” he declared. “A bear must have smelled the food and carried it off.” His wife resigned herself to cooking again.

He thought the problem was solved, but several months later he returned home from a trip and smelled the familiar odor of rutabaga stew.

“Look!” exclaimed his wife. “Look what I found this morning in the yard! Our pot of stew!”

“How can that be?” he asked. He examined the ground. There in the dirt were the distinct impressions of bear paws. The imprints were deep as they headed into the yard, and somewhat shallower as they headed back into the woods.

That man’s wife is still serving the stew. They no longer eat it themselves, though. Instead, the man convinced his wife to open a small rest stop outside their home. There his wife serves weary travellers just the one item, plus day-old bread.

It is quite cheap. If you want some I’ll give you the address.

Copyright © 2013 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Wizard Water Spring Tonic

Spring is here at last! If a long winter of salt pork and beans has given you a bad case of scurvy, may I suggest Doc Johnson’s Wondrous Wizard Water Spring Tonic^©. The Tonic has the same ingredients as plain Wizard Water^©, but with the addition of sarsaparilla, sassafras, mint and ramps. Sarsparilla treats arthritis and gives you lots of energy. Sassafras clears the lungs and reduces scurvy. Mint refreshes the mind -- and good, strong, garlic-flavored ramps strengthens the body's resistance to illness by keeping people far, far away.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Spring is here, and since the nights are now above freezing and flowers are blooming, it is time to plant Wizard Water seeds. They grow quickly – so quickly that someone needs to remain on hand to harvest the product as soon as it is ready. The plants usually reach fruition within days or sometimes even hours of planting, depending on the outdoor temperature and soil conditions. I tried to get my mule Bleb to watch over the crop last year, but he ate the sprouts before they could mature.
Therefore, I will guard the crop myself, even if it means keeping watch by night and day. If you see me sleeping in a field sometime in the next week, just remember that I am really hard at work.

Copyright © 2013 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

An Unusual Stake

I was engaged in a friendly game of cards the other night at a local tavern when a fellow walked in and asked to join the game.

“You are welcome to join us,” I said, “but you’ll need at least ten dollars to start.”

“Ten dollars!” he cried. “I don’t got no ten dollars. Does it have to be cash money?”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“Just a minute,” he said, and walked out. He returned hefting a sack over his shoulder with a large, live animal of some kind kicking inside.

“What’ll you take for this critter?” he asked.

“What is it?” I replied.

“See for yourself,” he said. “Weighs a good 50 pounds at least, I should think.”

“Fifty pounds?” I said.

“Take a gander,” he said, swinging the sack over his shoulder and slamming it on the floor as if he was breaking up a load of walnuts. The sack’s contents lay still. “Only be careful. Don’t let him out.”

Cautiously, I untied the twine and peered inside. There, stunned and insensible, lay the largest rabbit I had ever seen. Its size alone would be cause for remark, but I could not help notice that it was also wearing a red vest and bow tie.

“My good man, do you know what you have here?!” I cried.

“World’s biggest jackrabbit,” he said.

“Yes, but in addition to that! This is the one and only Easter bunny!”

“The Easter what?” he said.

“Rabbit! You know, the one that brings colored eggs to little children.”

It turned out the gentleman, who’d grown up in the back woods, had never heard of said creature.

“Eggs? Rabbits don’t have nothin’ to do with eggs,” he said.

I assured him that this one did.

“Well what’ll you give me for ‘im?”

I was a little short on funds, but a way forward occurred to me.

“I will stake you in this game, sir, in exchange for your rabbit.” He thanked me and sat down to play. The sack on the floor remained immobile.

As it turned out, he drew several poor hands and the game was soon over. I thanked him for his trouble and carried the sack out to my wagon.

“What are you doing?!” a voice exclaimed behind me. I whirled around. It was the sheriff.

“Shh!” I said. “I am taking a present home to my wife and I do not wish to disturb the contents.”

“And what would that be?” he asked.

“You would not believe me if I told you,” I said, “- but we shall never lack for eggs again!”

“I’ll bet you won’t,” he replied. “We’ve had reports of chickens disappearing and I think I’ve found the culprit.”

So saying, he grabbed the sack and began to open it.

“No!” I cried. “Don’t let it loo-“

Heedless of my warning, he un-cinched the sack and shook it. A large white-and-red blur fell onto the ground, kicked up considerable dust, and took off like a bolt of boiled lightning, knocking the sheriff over in the process.

“I told you not to open the sack,” I said loudly when he regained consciousness.

The sheriff did not see it that way. The fine he charged cost me the rest of my winnings. I offered to pay with a case of my elixir, but he refused.

I must look into to getting flashier packaging. You can’t always count on the locals accepting a marvel, whether it comes in a bottle or sack, or other common container.

Copyright © 2013 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Delivering the Goods, Again

My friend Kris Kringle is very busy this time of year. I offered to help.

“Some of those homesteads up in the mountains can be hard to find,” I told him, “but I know where most everyone lives within thirty miles of here. I might be of assistance.”

Kris allowed as how he could stand to shave some time off his schedule. He asked me if I’d be willing to take a sack to the Hardin boys up in Woody Gap.

“I always get lost looking for them,” he said, “probably because I don’t go out there very often. They’ve been just good enough this year, though, to tip the scales in their favor. Now I’ve got to bring them something.”

I said I’d make the delivery for a new pair of gloves and travel expenses.

“I can get to the Hardins, but my mule Bleb likes alfalfa, and it’s a little pricey right now.”

Kringle agreed, and handed me a sack.  Payment would come after the delivery was made, he said. I set out promptly, and had no trouble until I met up with Hiram Hardin.

“What’re you doin’ out this way?” he asked me.

“I’m helping my friend Kris Kringle,” I said. “He wanted me to deliver this to you and your brothers.”  I handed him the sack.

“Kringle, you say?” said Hiram. “I’ve heard of him, but ain’t never seen ‘im. He ain’t stopped by our place in a coon’s age. Is this what all he owes us? Hoyt and Lucius was hoping for some ham.”

“I don’t know what’s in there,” I said.

He peered inside.

“Well look,” he said angrily, “--  three measly little candy sticks and two pair of mittens!” He waved some wool socks. The Hardin boys weren’t known for following fashion. “You maybe taking a cut in this here delivery? Where’s the rest?”

“That’s a good haul!” I cried. “And those aren’t mittens, they’re filters,” I told him, “to improve your liquid corn product.”

“They sure are shaped funny,” Hiram said.

“You attach each one to the end of the coil,” I said, “and let them filter the product as it drips out. It makes for a smoother drink.”

“Really? Well,” said Hiram. “But that’s it? No coffee or chewing tobacco? No ham meat? We gonna have to threaten Widow Eula again to give up a couple pigs to get us through Winter?”

“Of course not,” I said hastily. “Kringle also wanted you to have this.”  I handed him a bottle of Wizard Water^©.

Hiram laughed. “We make our own, thank you.”

“Not like this, you don’t,” I replied. “One drop of this diluted in a bucket of water will peel the shoes off your horse. Two drops will double your corn output in less than two days.”

“Pshaw,” he said.

“Truly,” I said, “but you must not use more than two drops per gallon of mash. Trust me, it will more than double your product. Now if you will excuse me, I have an appointment in town.” I left before he could do the math.

On the evening of the 25th, Kringle stopped by a saloon where I was conducting business.

“I’ve been expecting you!” I cried. “I made your delivery and then some! This calls for a bonus!”

“ ‘And then some’ is right, Doc,” said Kringle gruffly. “What do you know about these?” He threw two mangled socks on the poker table.

“That depends,” I replied. “Where were they found?

“Buried about three inches deep inside Widow Eula’s bedroom wall. They lodged there after shooting through two doors. The doors were closed, by the way. They are the same socks I gave you to deliver to the Hardin boys.”

“Are you sure? I asked.

“I’m sure,” he said. “I know my product. Or I thought I did. My socks do not travel nearly as fast.”

“I made the delivery. Hiram can confirm it.”

“Hiram was last seen somewhere over Gainesville.”

“Well I know nothing about the extracurricular proclivities of your merchandise,” I said. “They were not in my care at the time. Take that up with your craftsmen.”

“I will,” said the old man. “Your mule’s alfalfa has already been delivered, but I’m afraid that will mean no time to make your gloves.”

I figured as much the moment he threw the socks down. Next time I’m asking for payment in advance.

Copyright © 2012 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

More Weather Problems

The wind continues to play havoc with my product. Yesterday it blew my wagon against a cliff wall and then moved the wall two feet further west. The wagon would have been shattered if it wasn’t full of Wizard Water^©. The strength of my product reinforced the wagon frame and so averted complete disaster.

However, some inconvenience was incurred. The constant pressure of the wind blowing up from under the carriage pushed the bottles out of shape. They became narrower at the bottom and wider at the top. In fact, they strongly resembled gin bottles. At my next stop, a racetrack, I was delayed by a revenue man. I tried to explain to him that the containers were NOT gin bottles, merely victims of wind shear.

He would have none of it. He insisted I pay the required liquor tax. So I told him that I was selling a powerful new horse tonic. It was so strong, I declared, that it invacuated wide-based bottles and altered the shape of glass. Likewise it strengthened hooves and enabled a beast to leap twice the height of ordinary hurdles.

“Why do you think I am at a racetrack?” I said. “I did not wish to say so at first, but I am here to replenish the stock of a certain prize-winning jockey.”

He bought two cases.

I still believe that honesty is the best policy -- but only if it works.

Copyright © 2012 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Unsettling Weather

The weather has been finicky of late. The other day a dry spell hovering over the area was suddenly interrupted by a windstorm blowing in from the east and an ice storm from the north. It happened so suddenly that frogs leaping out of the creek were tossed into the air, frozen and dehydrated within seconds. My wife’s laundry was similarly afflicted. She had hung it out on a line to dry, and it all froze. Then the desert-like air shrank everything. I tried re-sizing the sheets with Wizard Water^©, but I was off on the proportions. Now they are only fit for ship’s sails.

I hope the weather settles, as this does not bode well for winter. I also do not wish to see any more of my vests converted into sofa upholstery.

A Simple Philosophy

An optimist says a glass is half-full.
A pessimist says a glass is half-empty.
I say: get more Wizard Water^© and you won’t have this problem.

Copyright © 2012 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

The Harvest Moon - Its Advantages and Disadvantages

The full moon is upon us. Many find it a source of romantic or poetic inspiration. It also has practical aspects, though.

For me a full moon is a critical time for production of Wizard Water^©. Part of my receipt for manufacturing my elixir depends upon timing. Because water rises during the waxing phase of the moon, Wizard Water^© can only achieve its strongest efficacy if produced during the moon’s fullest exposure to the Earth. This is one of the reasons why Wizard Water^© is so expensive ($2 a bottle): it can only be produced under a full or near-full, waxing moon. To do otherwise spells disaster.

To give you an example: I once thought I would save time and increase my profits by generating a some Wizard Water^© during a waning moon. The lunar orb was near full, but entering into the reduced end of the spectrum. Nevertheless, I labored on a fresh batch, and sold most of it to a pig farmer. He later returned to me and demanded a refund. His complaint: his drift of pigs shrank to the size of acorns. They were covered by the autumn leaves and were not found until spring, so he lost an entire season's profits, or so he thought. The farmer threatened a lawsuit, declaring that I practiced theft by deception.

I was saved from a legal entanglement by the recovery of the pigs. I gauged the prevailing direction of the wind and located them in a corn field about 20 miles from the owner's farm. They had been blown there by a winter storm and survived on fallen cobs. By that time they were larger than acorns, but still so small that it took three of them to make one strip of bacon. This turned out to be an advantage for the farmer, because bacon was scarce in early spring and commanded a high price. Small pigs were also easier to ship in mail sacks. He wound up making a tidy profit. I did not take any shortcuts with production after that, however.

So feel free to romanticize that rotund, glowing traveler in the night sky (the moon, not the wind-blown pigs)! Remember, though, that there is a practical side to everything. The effect of a waxing moon on Wizard Water^© is not much different than its effect on swindlers and swine. Timing is everything.

A High Wind

An old cowboy cook once told me how  Wizard Water^© helped save a meal. A strong wind came up one afternoon, he said, and made it impossible to control the campfire. It blew the flames so fiercely that they separated from the coals and took off across the plains. The cook was compelled to give chase in his chuckwagon. He caught up with the flames but could see no way to stop their forward movement. Finally, he grabbed a bottle of  Wizard Water^© from under the driver’s seat and circled the sparks while sprinkling the elixir on the ground. The flames could not cross the super-saturated earth and had to stay corralled until the Wizard Water^©evaporated. The cook was able to finish baking his beans and boiling his Arbuckles. He’d travelled a good 20 miles ahead of the outfit though, and had to endure much complaining from the wranglers when they finally found him.

“That warn’t nuthin’,” he told me, “if the wind had blowed in t’other direction they’d be eatin’ in Cincinatti.”

He said that now he always keeps a bottle of Wizard Water^© handy, “because you never know what kind of wind will blow your way.” A sentiment with which I heartily agree.

By the way, I will be emceeing the second annual Tony & Ann Ianuario Bluegrass Festival on Saturday, September 15 at "Hurricane Shoals Park amphitheater near Maysville, Georgia. Come on over if you're in the area!

Copyright © 2012 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

A Useful Household Product

If a bug should ever get stuck in your ear, have someone blow smoke into the ear. This will stun the insect and cause it to fall out. If you find yourself short of smoke, try to stockpile some by freezing a goodly supply in winter when your hearth is most active. Frozen smoke also comes in handy for preserving meat and darkening fabrics such as those to be used for mourning clothes and bankers’ suits.

It is easy to freeze smoke – merely wait for cold weather, then mist the air above your chimney with a few drops of  Wizard Water^©.  As the water freezes in the chill air, the droplets will adhere to the smoke. Carry a large framed screen with you to catch the frozen mist quickly, otherwise it is likely to fall and shatter. Once coated in smoke-ice, the screen will have a dark but highly polished, reflective surface which can also serve for viewing oneself. Store the screen in an ice-house until it is needed, then merely place it in a warm location to melt the smoke.

Or you can avoid all that trouble and go to a smoke vendor. He will sell you smoke-screens in various sizes. I should warn you, though, that the prices are likely to be higher in summer. I should know, as I was once in the smoke and mirror business. I still occasionally deal in it.

Copyright © 2012 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

An Unexpected Event

I was caught in a meteor shower last night. Luckily, I was asleep under the wagon at the time and Bleb was stabled for the night. The roof of the wagon must be replaced, however. I must also find a wheelwright who can remove rocks embedded in metal rims.  

On the positive side, the wagon bed is now full of meteor dust. I expect to make good use of it in the coming months.

Copyright © 2012 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

A Hot Summer

This summer is too hot. I sold some Wizard Water^© to a bartender who was serving beer at a political rally. Late in the afternoon he ran low on beer but not on customers. Thinking to stretch his product, he added some of my elixir to a half-empty keg. The keg -- which was quite warm from sitting in the sun -- began to swell. Foam spewed from the spigot in ever-increasing quantities. Soon suds covered the ground, then rose shoulder-high, then overwhelmed the stage.

The speakers fled and the rally broke up. Its sponsors blamed the beer vendor, and he blamed me. He is looking for me as I write this.

I am on route to Alaska, where cooler heads prevail.

Copyright © 2012 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Another Caveat

Never try to extinguish a fire using Wizard Water^©. Wizard Water^© is an accelerative, and in most cases will increase the properties of whatever is exposed to it. I once spilled a few drops of Wizard Water^© on the coals of a fire and, instead of going out, the heat grew in intensity until the ground beneath the coals melted.

The coals sank out of sight, leaving naught but the smell of burning granite. I feared the coals might might burn all the way through the Earth’s core and out the other side, but they must have hit a subterranean pocket of water, for a great plume of steam suddenly shot straight up from the hole and high into the sky. It maintained a height of several hundred feet for a few minutes, and then subsided. I left the area quite relieved that the matter had concluded without loss of life or property.

I have since been informed that geysers of steam appear in that location with great regularity. The phenomenon even has a nickname: “Old Faithful.” So far, no witnesses have come forward to accuse me of having any connection with it. I hope the situation remains thus, as I cannot afford to repair the chasm or replace the goats which have fallen in. Once the matter leaves the public eye though, all will be well. I'm sure that time is not long in coming, either. The Wizard Water^© should wear off soon.

Copyright © 2012 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

A Production Problem

We here at Wizard Water^© Enterprises, LLC, take utmost pains to ensure that our product is of the highest quality possible. However, sometimes unforeseen circumstances can interfere with the development process. Such was the case this past week, when lightning struck the tree near which the latest batch of my elixir was settling. The lightning jumped to the iron pot in which my product lay, and adulterated it with highly excited energy. After a bright flash, the contents of the pot disappeared, and I reasonably assumed that it had evaporated.

I immediately set out to make a fresh batch of my elixir, but discovered that my initial assumption was incorrect. The previous batch was still present, for every time I attempted to add a few key ingredients to the pot – such as water -- the original aggregation reappeared in the container, filling it to the brim. Whenever I removed my hand, the pot appeared empty again.

I regret to say that this has greatly delayed the production of Wizard Water^©. The pot will not accept new ingredients, nor will it release the previous batch. I am not only at a loss regarding an explanation, I’m not sure how to recover what until now has been a perfectly good pot.

Therefore, I have ordered a new iron kettle from Sears, Roebuck and Company. The new container will be larger and accommodate more liquid. It will take about two weeks to arrive at my current location, though. I will advertise in the local papers when the next batch of Wizard Water^© is available.

I trust my loyal customers will understand.


Copyright © 2012 Laurie J. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Roof stability

Necessity is the mother of invention, the saying goes, and nowhere have I seen this better demonstrated than up above Monteagle town in Tennessee. The ground there is so steep that instead of building their cabins from the ground up, locals start at the top and work their way down. As each wall nears earth, the builder stakes it into the sod with wooden posts. I suggested to one fellow that if he wanted even greater stability, he should plant fir tree seedlings along the support walls and add some  Wizard Water^©. He did so, and sure enough, the seedlings sprouted almost instantaneously. They grew a foot a second, and soon the walls were girded with a fence-like series of living support posts.

My method would have worked perfectly if the seedlings hadn't displaced the roof. The fir trees shot through the shingles and lifted the beams skyward. Soon the fellow had a wonderful, four-walled enclosure fit for chickens and goats, but no shelter against inclement weather. He was so upset that he began throwing everything he had at me. An adze inadvertently hit the roof and knocked it off the treetops. The roof crashed into the mountainside and rolled until it lodged atop a church in the town below. The church's congregation was overjoyed. They had just lost their meeting house roof a few weeks earlier when it slid off during a storm. They had been praying for a replacement and now their prayers seemed answered, as this roof fit better and didn't wobble on the steep slope. The choir sang their thanks at the following Sunday service.

No one heard them, though. Nothing beats a roof with a perfect pitch.