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Sometimes I like to step outside my WW character, and just tell a story of the old days, while visiting people who came "from the Old Country." This is one of those moments.
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Around this time of year I get all nostalgic. I think about my childhood, and the extended family time we enjoyed back then. We had aunts and uncles and cousins gathering at grandparents' houses during the holiday season, and there's where the humorous stories would begin.
Sitting at the kids' table, we could hear the adults, comfortably seated at the grown-up table, telling stories while pouring the new batch of homemade Zinfandel wine. You see, my grandfather had his own wine press in the basement, and the grape vines grew in his back yard for the yield. Those grapes in and of themselves had a history, as they were “brought” into the country from Italy, when My grandparents sailed overseas. They still had a huge family living there.
One holiday evening while we kids were anxiously waiting for dessert, we hear the reminiscing of this particularly amusing tale.
My aunt started out by inquiring of my Mom, if she remembered the time that the two ladies spent an evening together while their husbands, who were brothers, worked the late shift at the local mills. My mother interjected her thoughts on the subject, after a quick laugh followed by a cringing chill which made her rub her arms vigorously as she told the story. It seems the ladies were enjoying a little bit of that famous homemade wine, which was easily attained because my mother and father's apartment was within the grandparent's tenement building, when the drama began.
My mother explained the events that transpired that fateful evening. “Flo and I were sipping Pa's wine, enjoying some cheese and crackers and a little cappacola and prosciutto and melon. It was a nice way to spend an evening while awaiting the guys to return from work. I remember that we were laughing so hard, Ma. I think you called upstairs to ask us to keep the noise down because you were trying to sleep.” (There's something about when the in-laws are admonishing the non-Italian, born, daughters-in-law, it somehow boosted the laughter even more, but I digress.  )
“Yes, you two girls were loud, 'meat-cigar' I had to get up early and make the sauce, you know. And then I heard you scream and was gonna call the police. But I heard Alberto's car pull up.”
My mother continued on with the story of the events that transpired on a ladies' night in, after a quick apology. “I know Ma, I'm so sorry, but you found out later what happened. You actually laughed, too! And we only had two glasses of wine — well, before 'it' happened.”
“After enjoying our snacks and the wine, we headed to the pantry to wash the plates and glasses before the guys got home, then we went back to the kitchen and sat down to chat for a while. Then I looked at Flo's eyes. They were following something and her jaw dropped a bit, the lips quivered, and then the scream that will forever frighten my psyche … 'MOUSE!'”
Upon hearing the “M” word, my mother climbed up on her chair, and my aunt wasn't far behind her in that idea. Now both of them are standing on their chairs to keep a good clearance space between their feet and the rodent's. After their initial shock, and frazzled nerves, they needed some quick courage. My aunt, who was much taller than my mother, came up with a sure-fire plan to retrieve the bottle of wine they placed in the pantry. While standing on her chair, she moved another chair a few feet ahead, then stood on that one making her able to reach around the doorway into the pantry and grab a hold of the wine bottle. It was a good plan, because the wine not only kept them brave, but also supplied a future mouse-battling weapon to use defensively, by throwing it at little “Mickey,” should he dare encroach upon their zone of safety.
Passing the bottle back and forth now, the two ladies were sipping it in-between giggles and tears of fear, when the door knob turned, and my uncle appeared.
Well, you can imagine his expression when he saw his wife and sister-in-law, sitting on the kitchen table with a bottle of wine between them.
“What the heck is going on here? Are you girls crazy? Why are you sitting on the table and drinking wine from the bottle?”
"Flo couldn't reach the glasses, but luckily she grabbed the wine."
“Oh, Al, there's a mouse in the house! Go find it and kill it!” My aunt blurted out.
Being a gentleman, although having his doubts, my uncle grabbed a broom and started doing the four corners of the room tapping on the floors, to scare it out.
Ringgggggggggg-ring-ring! Yes, my Nana was complaining about the banging on the floor.
“Alberto, what's going on up there? The girls are screaming and moving furniture around. I can't sleep, and your poor father keeps waking up.”
“Ma, they say they saw a mouse running around the house. They're scared to death of mice.”
“No, no-no-no! There are no mice in this building! This is a very clean place. They probably had too much wine and are seeing things.”
“Okay, Ma, I'll quiet them down and take Flo home as soon as my brother gets back from work”
Alberto hung up and headed back into the kitchen, where the ladies waited. He made a few more attempts to check each room, even looked under the bed – nothing. He built up the courage to state what he thought was the obvious. There was no mouse, they were just seeing things, possibly due to my grandfather's strong-full-bodied red zinfandel.
Al, convinced they imagined the whole mouse-hunt need, stood in the middle of the kitchen floor insisting there was no mouse in the house, amid their tears and objections. And then, a look of surprise enveloped his face. It was immediately followed by a jumping and patting to his pant leg. He danced about patting and kicking until little “Mickey” slipped down his leg and onto the floor.
“MOUSE!" The ladies screamed, as the frightened creature ran off to hide.
Ringg-ringgggggggg, ring, ring!
Moments later, my father returned home to find the three defeated figures, sitting on the kitchen table, passing the bottle of zinfandel, back and forth.
"Joe, there's a mouse in the house!" My mother cried.
My father spewed a few choice Italian words at the trio on the table, and looked at his brother while shaking his head."What the bleep, bleep, bleep! Al, I can understand the ladies fear, but you're a grown man. Why are you sitting on the table?"
"Joe, that mouse ran up my pant leg. I was afraid for my family jewels. You know what I'm saying, brother, rodents scratch and bite!"
My aunt and uncle said their goodbyes and left the apartment. My father, always the hero, carried my mother to the bed so her feet wouldn't touch the floor, all the while speaking in Italian, and not words we children were allowed to repeat.
A couple mornings later, my mother, who kept a broom by her side at every moment now, banged on the floor to warn the little interloper, in case he managed to still be hiding in that apartment. She was about to head to the pantry to start the coffee. She saw nothing moving, so cautiously sat up in bed, placing her feet on the floor while grabbing for her long chenille bathrobe. She stood up as she placed her arms inside the bathrobe and felt something wriggle where the pocket was.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! MOUSE!!!!
Ringgggggggg, ring-ring …
That's all she wrote for this edition of the Comedy Newsletter.
Until next time—laugh hard, laugh often!
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, folks.
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Acme 
I love this time of year! So good to feel the thrill of seasonal mischief running through the ink of this newsletter. There's room for comedy in every genre--what a delightful foil for any tense drama or voracious horror. More Hallowe'en, please. Pumpkins for all!
Indeed, Acme! You love Halloween-time, here, as much as I do.  I'm happy you enjoyed the Newsie. Good to see your handle around these parts. 
LJPC - the tortoise
Hi WW! I think it's awesome that you put so much effort into decorating for Halloween and really entertaining your visitors and neighbors! I have to admit, I'm one of those Greedy Candy Grabbers! I never paid much attention to decorations when I was a kid. As I went up to the houses, all I cared about was whether I'd get the "gold standard" of treats -- the full size candy bar! Have a fantastically spooky month, WW!
~ Laura
 Ah, yes, the ever dwindling in size candy bars. We always got full-sized candy bars when we were young, or those little treat bags with different little candies -- even open candy!  Remember those little corn-candy pumpkins mixed in with the tootsie rolls? How did our teeth survive childhood? Always good to hear from you, Laura!
papadoc1
You are so right-on, WW, about Halloween and all the fun moments that we've had right HERE in this Spooky House in a small town in rural Massachusetts. All in all, I would say that no doubt, you've missed them since we usually are in Florida at this time of year! Just the same, who knows? Maybe you'll be able to bring back the Spook Fest once more for all the kids around this tiny town, and give them one more great memory of what Halloween truly should be like!! Whaddya say?!?!? 
Hmmm, another Halloween, here.  Why yes, WebLock.
dogpack saving 4premium 
Unfortunately, I do not write horror and seldom write comedy. Intertwining both is something I hadn't considered until recently, then this NL and now I understand more about the mix and match, intertwining of these elements. My challenge is mostly dealing with the horror which as a child wasn't something I enjoyed because I had nightmares. Now after all those years, I still do not remember my dreams. Thank you for showing me more about Halloween and giving me insight into mixing horror and comedy.
Safe travels and many blessings.
It was my pleasure. I'm so happy the Newsletter was helpful. 
Thank you for your feedback, folks. We editors really appreciate it!
See you at the end of the month. 
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Comedy: November 02, 2016 Issue [#7929]
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