Papa Boyd’s false teeth
As a young girl, I thought it was a treat to go home with my Papa Boyd after church on Sunday. We had sandwiches made from thick slices of Bost's bread and a whole Pepsi Cola. He let me watch television while he took a nap on the couch. One time, his false teeth were lying on the floor. I thought that was the funniest thing I had ever seen. Papa had a hard time keeping up with his false teeth.
Years later, I got a call from Papa: he had lost his teeth. He blamed it on a weasel he had seen out at the corn crib. He handed me a flashlight, and I crawled around the attic with the spiders, hoping the weasel had dropped the false teeth climbing out of the house. I crawled under the house where it was dark, damp and cold, looking more for a snake or rat than Papa's teeth. He decided the weasel had won, so he purchased another set.
Papa died Easter morning 1976. While packing his clothes in boxes from his closet, Mama found Papa's teeth in his coat pocket. The weasel was innocent.
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