BETH:TO BELIEVE IT OR NOT! RIGINAL.
History is a wonderful companion. Ask any histor rical woman. Beth Ohairier Makeadoodlesing of Irish lineage who invented the square potato to stop the menfolk of Highhill province from having to chase the formerly round type rolling downhill, made a replica of the Titanic out of potato in her sink. It did. Beth was a bearded lass of many talents.
Beth invented electricity by simply rubbing her chubby little legs together. However the end rub was that Beth wasn't prepared to have her toes connected to a makeshift grid to power the town up. Especially after some bright spark crossed Beth's wires in initial tests causing a blackout which set fire to the local gas company.
Beth's gas company was a boon to the town because the villagers loved the square potato but it caused gas simply because the digestion at the time in villager's tums wasn't that efficient. The square potatoes sat squarely fermenting and trying to digest that the round potato was obsolete. Beth caught whiff of this intestinal phenomenon, converted a disused square cow shed by the advent of sewing old cow bladders together. Every Saturday night the villagers rolled up, were connected to a Highland gas fling pipe. The excited gases from the exuberant dancing filled the cow bladders to capacity thus the methanic infusion was trapped...providing a heated exchange of unending cooking,heating voracity- unheard of.
Of course the 'blow off' valving was crude in those early trial days. Consisting of a stop check valve made of a sensitive foxes tail. When the gas reached full capacity the fox tail would stand erect and wave. The villager infusing would disconnect. However, the fateful fling that night happened simply because Beth in her enthusiasm to show the village council how static elastic could live in harmony with gas, made the mistake of connecting the wires to her toes quite close to the nearly full bladder.
The fox tail 'full' suddenly became erect. Beth was so close she was tickled pink. The ensuing feel good/spark interjection not only blew Beth's brief electrical idea out the window of safety, it blew the blackened quick brown surprized fox quite a substantial way also. Actually about 10 feet past the 'Fox and Hounds' pub next door for retired alcoholics recovering from cordial ingestion reticulation. Also invented by the brain storming Beth. Beth could see the village becoming a pack of useless drunks similar to a Irish square potato dancing political convention.
She designed a cordiality machine which measured how much cordiality was due to ingested spirit, and conversely how much was due to sober fun. 99.9% proof sober fun and laughter came into being as the norm. A sort of preempt breathalyser crude if you like. The village women thanked Beth, they grew more and more cordial towards their menfolk when the sober guys arrived home in the wee hours. Instead of weeing into the wee hours and staggering round off their tits trying to set fire to their thatched dwellings the menfolk spent a lot more time "sheeing." That was the bonus sober men received. Plus the fact that the scorched fox got along better with the hounds simply because they thought the fox was a bit dark not only on Beth, but on them also. The fox you see resembled a singed panther. Bonus was, chickens could smell the singed fox a mile off and had plenty of time to 'chicken out' to a safe refuge, 'Obama chicken health care!' Though some undecided villagers muttered in their square potatoes that they'd rather be mauled by a singed fox? Be that as it may, the chickens were happy on the the whole. Likewise the menfolk. Of course the fox sat disgruntled watching the Fox news and shoving square potato chips in his singed mouth.
The electricity idea was laid to rest, alongside Beth's briefs. Beth wasn't finished by a long shot. She scratched her beard thoughtfully. It came to her. The beard that is. Beth got it caught in a rabbit trap late one night when she was planting night seeds for the day birds to eat the following day. B tripped. Ripped her beard off. Her latest idea of ridding a beard by use of a rabbit trap didn't really catch on. You see the hair removal instructions although warning NOT to stick ones head IN the trap was ignored by one foxy lady who tried to 'trim' her eyebrows and inadvertently stuck her neck in the trap.
She was lucky. Her husband's sober hands were caressing her neck at that moment and took the brunt of the tender trap.
See, sobriety has its own reward. Beth soldiered on with her hair removal idea and eventually made a smaller rabbit trap which could in effect catch smaller rabbits, and the odd small thumb. Beth sold that franchise off to a chap who bred bald cattle. Or at least Beth's invention made that possible.
Beth was quite the good sewer. She knitted leather coats to keep bald cows warm in winter. Instant success. The cow's milk warmed to the idea.
Beth's input to the village wasn't forgotten. She was never a woman to partake of men she was so busy inventing, knitting, etc.
She did dance the Highland fling with the black slightly reticent fox as a cordiality gesture. The square potato owes much to Beth's idealism. Not mash more i can say really. God bless you Beth...
Guess the moral is: Stay sober. Don't back into fox tales when you're having a gas attack and the atmosphere is electric. Have a great day. Don't worry too much about people talking behind your back. Walk faster. Let them fall for the trap of mundane. Be like Beth...latch onto a good idea and watch the fur fly. Have a great day. After all we're all living on burrowed time aint we. Payback for being miserable and straight- laced, around the corner? Take care. :>)