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"Indian Rock Still" LbNA #23576

Owner:Adoptable
Plant date:Jul 17, 2005
Location:
City:Salina
County:Saline
State:Kansas
Boxes:1
Planted by:Rad Rhymer
Found by: Dragon Tales
Last found:Mar 10, 2012
Status:FFFFFFFFFaaFF
Last edited:Jul 17, 2005
THIS LETTERBOX HAS BEEN REPORTED MISSING.

Long ago, in the fair state of Kansas, somewhere, lived two elderly ladies named Myrtle and Clare. They were fragile and stooped and wore bifocal specs and they lived in a lovely retirement complex.

Now, those sweet little ladies were quite meek and mild, and no matter what happened, they seldom got riled. But, believe me, it’s hard to be sweet and polite when your teeth are too loose and your girdle’s too tight!

Now, you sure wouldn’t think anybody would dare to find fault with two ladies with snowy white hair, but the neighbors, it seems, didn’t see it that way, and they made a complaint to the landlord one day.

Well, the landlord reluctantly went to their door, and he told them they couldn’t live there any more. They were very distraught and upset, the poor dears. After all, they had lived there for forty-three years!

Well, because they were well bred and sweet as could be, they accepted the bad news with great dignity. Myrtle stated, “Now where in the hell do we go?” and Clare threw down her cane and said, “Damned if I know!”

Now, those ladies, of course, were in quite a tough spot, so they grabbed their corn meal and their big copper pot, stuffed their jugs and their corks in a huge gunny sack,
plus a large can of malt they had stored in the back.

Then they jumped in their Model T Ford, in a flash, tossed a big bag of sugar up there on the dash, threw some yeast and a rubber hose there on the floor, turned the crank and took off with a chug and a roar!

“Where’re we going,” Clare questioned, “with all of this stuff?”

“How the crap would I know?” Myrtle yelled, in a huff.

“Well, you better slow down!” Clare exclaimed, “Sakes alive!
What’s your hurry? You’re doing at least thirty five!”

Well, that car chugged along with a hiss and a cough, with that pair of old ladies, extremely pissed off. “Hmmph! The nerve of that landlord,” Clare muttered with rage. “Kicking both of us out on our butts at our age!”

Now, a Model T Ford is no place for a still, but that moonshine is great when you’re over the hill! Just changing their socks made them work up a sweat! At age 90, you need all the help you can get!

There was no sign of brakes in that rusty old heap. All four tires were shot, and the horn wouldn’t beep, but those elderly gals had a very strong will. They were bound to find somewhere to set up their still.

They arrived in Salina a bit before dark, and they stopped at a place called the Indian Rock Park, there on East Gypsum Avenue, 1-5-0-0, then they hobbled along, and they searched high and low.

They explored every pathway to see where it led. Then they saw it! The real Indian Rock, just ahead! Walking eight paces south from the rock, very slow, they went down to the evergreen shrub just below.

Well, they started to search underneath that small shrub, for a place they could hide from the busy hubbub. Then they noticed a rock tucked away underneath, Myrtle got so excited, she spit out her teeth!

They slipped under that rock and they looked all around and decided that spot was the best one they’d found! Back they went, to their car, grabbed their tattered suitcase, all their precious supplies and moved into the place.

“This is great!” exclaimed Myrtle. “It’s our lucky day! It’s quite comfortable, quiet and out of the way. There’s no rent and no landlord! It sure fits the bill!” Then they nailed up a sign that read, “Indian Rock Still.”

You can visit them anytime. No need to knock. If you need a short snort, just look under the rock. But, I’m warning you now, be considerate and fair. You don’t want to piss off dear old Myrtle and Clare!