Mollygrubs Messer: Of Pointers and Polecats
The Misadventures Of Mollygrubs Messer Episode 9: Of Pointers And Polecats Mischance, malarkey, and being the target of adolescent misfortune ran through the teenage years of Mollygrubs Messer like colorful thread binding the top of tow sacks. On one occasion,...
MOLLYGRUBS PART 8
Urination Tribulation Among the many hobbies of Mollygrubs Messer’s father was gardening. He found it relaxing and a welcome escape from a spouse who wasn’t about to dirty her dainty hands with manual toil in the good earth (or pretty much anything else, because truth...
MOLLYGRUBS PART 7
Bear Scare Notwithstanding painful and humiliating memories of an early Boy Scouts endeavor that landed Mollygrubs in a world of woe thanks to turning poison ivy leaves into ersatz toilet paper, he remained a loyal, enthusiastic member of the local troop. That was...
The Poet Laureate of Turkey Hunting
An overview of Tom Kelly’s published work.
MOLLYGRUBS PART 6
MOLLYGRUBS GOES FOX HUNTING In the days of Mollygrubs Messer’s youth, fox hunting in the British Isles was a sport for the upper classes and involved fine horses, attire such as hard hats, high and highly polished black boots, hunt masters wearing red jackets,...
MOLLYGRUBS PART 5
DUXBAK DISASTER The aftermath of the most unfortunate chain of events connected with Mollygrubs’ misfortunes at the Junior Conservation Banquet reverberated through the town of Stony Lonesome for weeks. The hapless lad was harangued unmercifully by his male companions...
MOLLYGRUBS PART 4
PANDEMONIUM REIGNS AT THE JUNIOR CONSERVATION BANQUET Once Mollygrubs’ painful ministrations with Mitzi’s corsage had been duly rectified with profuse apologies, the intercession of Mrs. Merkle, and some general calming of adolescent nerves, the excited couple made...
MOLLYGRUBS PART 3
DISASTER AT THE JUNIOR CONSERVATION BANQUET—PART 2 The mere appearance of Mitzi, or for that matter any girl who was even moderately attractive, was sufficient to turn Mollygrubs’ face an alarming shade of scarlet. The mere thought of talking to her, much less asking...