The Thunder Mug

Dear Boo and Bubble,

How is it possible to have nothing to do and everything to do all at the same time?  For me, the answer to this question could be found in The Bullfrog Blues.  On the one hand, it was nothing but an old house with not even a light switch in the way of amenities.  If you wanted to listen to music, you had to hum some of your own.  On the other hand, it presented an empty canvas on which you could paint whatever your imagination allowed. Cousins spent hours playing “hide and seek” in, around and under the house.  Many a childhood posse combed the thick woods in search of familial bandits roaming the land.

If you were real lucky, somebody might give you a dime to spend at the Wildcat Store, the basic country precursor to a 7/11, located across the Saluda River back down the main road a ways.  In those days, ten cents bought a fistful of Double Bubble bubble gum or Dum Dum suckers.  One of my favorites was Cracker Jacks with its tantalizing prize in the bottom of the box.    

Many of the best stories in our family folklore happened at The Blues.  I want to tell you one of my all time favorites.  It involves your great granddaddy Schaefer and your great, great, great aunt Mittie of Mittie, Mattie, Ressie, Jessie, Annie Mae, Wade, Gene and Jamie.  

As you can imagine, this group of brothers and sisters proffered quite a range of personalities.  But, from the relatively straight-laced like Wade and Ressie, through the missionary wannabes like Jessie and Mattie and the soft-spoken Annie Mae, to the more worldly Gene and Jamie, there was one common fiber – a sense of humor.  Of all eight children, no one exhibited this trait more than Aunt Mittie.  Her approach to life embodied the philosophy that “Laughter is the best medicine” and she loved a good practical joke even if she were the butt of it.

On this particular occasion, Mittie and her husband James Arnold had invited a teen-aged Schaefer and first cousin Lige (for Elijah) Hicks to come up to The Blues for a few days.  At night, the boys shared one of the bunk beds in the big room while Mittie and Uncle Jim slept in the front bedroom.  The paper thin walls of the old house made propriety ludicrous, however.  Any squeak of the bedsprings, snoring or whispered remark immediately made its uninhibited way to a broader audience, even if unwanted.

After a few days, the boys noticed that about the same time every night, a scraping sound emanated from the bedroom followed by a rustle of fabric, a faint tinkling and the scrape again.  They figured out that it was the sequence of noise made by Mittie as she pulled a “thunder mug” out from under the bed in order to pee.  A marvelous plot was hatched with this knowledge.

The two walked to Wildcat Store the next day and purchased several packets of Bromo Seltzer, those tablets whose soothing medicine for stomach ailments was unleashed in a flurry of fizz when they hit water.  Back at The Blues, Schaefer and Lige snuck into the bedroom and placed the Bromo Seltzer in the freshly cleaned mug under Mittie’s bed. 

That night, the two used every trick they knew to stay awake.  It seemed forever but finally they heard a telltale swish coming from the bedroom.  Mittie was stirring.  They could hardly contain themselves, suppressing giggles underneath their pillows.

Mittie pulled the mug out from the bed and hiked up her nightgown.  She squat down onto the metal rim and began to relieve herself.  With that, a violent hiss projected underneath her, followed by the stinging prickles of bubbles released by the seltzer.  Such a ruckus ensued that they boys almost fell out of their beds.

“Jim!  Jim!  Wake up!”  Mittie yelled.  “Something’s bad wrong with me!”

Jim hurried out of the bed to help Mittie up off of the mug.  They stared back down into the bubbling cauldron.

“My Lord, Mittie, what did you eat?”

Their frantic moment of anxiety quickly dissipated with the cascade of uncontrolled laughter coming from the other room.  Schaefer and Lige gave themselves away immediately.

Over the years, this story took its place in the upper echelon of our family’s tales.  The one who loved it the most and often instigated its telling was Mittie.  Yes, she loved a practical joke even if she was the butt of it.