"O! Ye gawds and gawddesses! Spaw's done it, again! HeyaRed! Got anymore litter out back?" the woman with the mature gawdess figure stood up from her storytelling place by the fire and started for the back porch. The stench of the possum do-do was overpowering all of the good cooking smells which were making her belly grumble.

Flinging open the storage closet door, she started tossing things left and right, looking for some of the "good stuff" the Litter Quitter, never stops sucking up bad odors, honestly she wished they'd packaged it as a deoderant, she knew a few who could benefit from it! Out rolled a volleyball from last year's jello party, bits of slime green stuck to it; a half-chewed spare rib from someone's bbq fell to the floor, the "church" key they'd all been looking for earlier when they just coulnd't quite "pop that top." Tiple strings, wrapping paper, bits of ribbon, "police line" tape with dire warnings (the health inspector had made them put that up around the jello pit when he tried to close it down the year before); feathers, dog and cat hair, dust! "Good gawd doesn't anyone ever clean around here? Ah!" and with that, she dragged out a 20 pound bag of the Litter Quitter, good for stopping odors, putting out flames, feathered and otherwise, and THE preferred brand among scratchin' cats.

Dusting off her skirt, tucking in a few stray strands of hair, she tossed the other stuff back into the closet, and quickly slammed the door shut, its sides bulging around the frame. For a brief moment she felt a little guilt and pity for the next person to open it, but then she figured it would be just like a trip down Nostalgic Lane for one of the old folkies; guilt and pity were no more.

Lugging the big bag of do-do treatment over to the door, she spread a few clumps over the possum poo, opened the door and spread some out on the front steps, too. Carefully lifting her skirt, she stepped back in, after setting the bag outdoors.

"Reddarlin'!" How about some of that Wassail Punch?" she hollered.