Misunderstandings

I Sat For A Spell and a Spelling Test

A body ought to be careful with who they get to talking to out in the belly of the woods for fear of a misunderstanding.

Sometimes a body just likes to go out into the deep woods where the world just has to leave you alone.

Well sir, that’s the frame of my mind that I was occupying at that point in time. I had troubles on my mind, gnawing at my brain cells like termites in woodshed.

Which was right about when I came across that old cobbler sitting all by himself out there in the belly of woods.

He was sitting under the shade of a tall and twisted scrolled-bark birch tree, just smiling to himself and tapping a little tack hammer into a long, shiny, black leather boot.

“Hey there, neighbor,” the old cobbler said. “Why don’t you sit down and talk a spell with me?”

So I sat down and he and I talked for a while, the whole time him tapping that little bitty tack hammer into that boot sole.

“It’s funny to see a cobbler such as yourself working all alone out here in the deep old woods,” I pointed out. “I don’t imagine you’ll find too many customers out here on your lonesome.”

“Oh you’d be surprised,” the old cobbler said. “Actually, I was watching you walk and I can tell just by watching your gait swing like it does that your soles are in need of some mending.”

Well, truth was he wasn’t all that far off from the mark.

My soles were pretty near worn down. I had the boots lined with scrap cardboard and a pair of holed-out woolen socks. Course, I’d been walking shanks mare and footsore for so long that I’d given up on the prospect of a new pair of boots.

“You hit the target, old man,” I said. “But I’m afraid that I just don’t have the where-with-all to pay you to mend these old boots of mine, so I’ll have to make do until the winds of luck turn in my favor.”

The old man got himself a funny sort of grin under his whiskers and I believe I saw him wink, like he had a sly old secret hidden under his fine straw hat.

“Well, I heard tell that if a fellow does good for a fellow he meets in the woods that he’s going to run into some good luck of his own, just by helping like he did.” the old man said.

“Well, I’ve heard that said a time or two myself,” I admitted.

“Well, if you just would hand me over that soul of yours I’ll be more than happy to mend your boots for you.” the old man said.

And then he gave me that grin again.

Well, my Momma didn’t raise any foolish children, I’ll tell you that.

“Well sir, before I get to stumbling into any sort of a potential misunderstanding,” I said. “Why don’t you tell me the truth now, by the good book and God above, just exactly how are you spelling that word you used on me — soul or sole?”

The old man smiled, and shook his head just a little.

I noticed he hadn’t answered my question, mind you.

“The proof is in the pudding,” I said. “Why don’t you step on into that boot you’ve been mending so I can get an idea on the cut of your sole.”

The old man chuckled.

Then he stood up and leaned back against the trunk of that birch tree, bent one knee up, and dangled his cloven hoof down into the swallow of that long black leather boot of his.

“No flies on you, I guess,” the old man said.

“None that might belong to you, Old Scratch,” I calmly replied.

The old man grinned, knowing that I guessed who he was and his game was up. He didn’t fuss none, mind you. That old devil knew there were a whole lot of other souls out there in the world for him to steal. He just reached down into his sack and he pulled out a brand new pair of fine black leather walking boots.

“No strings attached unless you count the laces,” the old devil said. “I admire a fellow who can outwit me now and then.”

So I took those brand new boots and I pulled them on over sore feet and handed him the old boots in return.

“Fair and square,” I said.

And then I walked away from temptation, leaving the devil sitting there under that old scroll-bark birch tree.

So mind your P’s and Q’s, pay attention in spelling class, and be mighty careful on who you go talking to way out in the deep, dark belly of the woods.

Written for this prompt…