During the trip back, some diseased troglodyte managed to pass a cold on to me that was of the same virulent ilk that probably wiped the dinosaurs off the earth. Three days after we got home my temperature suddenly shot up to a point where spoons bent when I opened my mouth to swallow cough medicine. I began using up so many Kleenex that we were able to heat the house by throwing the discards into the wood stove. Finally, when our dogs started wearing surgical masks and the only thing that could understand me when I spoke was the neighbor's pet duck, Jane sagely suggested that I see a doctor. I squawked that I'd rather give Turk a call first. She rolled her eyes, sequestered the mutts in the basement and volunteered for a double shift at work.
Turk arrived about an hour later, hauled in his bag of home remedies, took one look at me and settled on his infamous and mysterious Wild Turkey Tea.
"This stuff will clear your sinuses, kill every germ in your throat, sweat the fever out of your pores and professionally clean the plaque off your teeth," he rumbled. "If you don't mind, I need to use your microwave to heat this concoction up. Don't want any open flames near this brew when it gets to bubblin." I just nodded but secretly pondered if my professional nurse spouse might have had a better idea.
Turk meant well, but I was having second thoughts after watching him add ingredients including cayenne pepper, garlic, Echinacea powder, concentrated lemon, a bunch of really weird-looking herbs and a huge slug of some dark liquid essence from a tall brown bottle into a large ceramic stein. After slowly stirring the mess for a couple of minutes, he heated the potion until it was seriously steaming, then made me put on a pair of work gloves ("lest ya get any on yer skin") and handed me the mug.
"What's the matter Turk? Don't want me to get burned?" I croaked.
"Nope," he said with a smile. "Just don't want ya to get any of that @*%+ on your skin."
I wondered if I still had time to call the doc.
"Don't drink any just yet," he continued. "Just put your nose over it and breath deep."
At first, nothing happened. Then I felt a slight burning sensation that swept so far back into my head that my ears popped and my eyes crossed. Suddenly, I could breathe and hear without feeling like I had a mattress wrapped around my head.
"Ease up bro," Turk counseled. "Your face is redder than a baboon's butt and a lot less pretty to look at."
"Thanks a lot, bubba. Your intellect is rivaled only by garden tools. Now what?" I squeaked.
"Take a deep sip and let it slowly slide down your throat. Try not to scream or you'll power hurl a blast that could do some serious structural damage to your walls." I glared at him and followed the instructions.
When the solution hit my raw esophagus, I felt like a fire-eater experiencing an ill-timed hiccup. I fully expected to see tendrils of smoke spiral out of my nose. Immediately thereafter, everything went pleasantly numb and I no longer had the urge to cough up my kidneys and other important intestinal sections. I even had most of my voice back.
"Man, what in the hell is in that stuff?" I huffed. "This is the first time in a week that I haven't felt like searching the classifieds for a burial plot. You ought to patent it."
"Uh, that would be less than a cool idea," Turk mumbled. "It's a secret family recipe. Mom and my old man would hang my hide over the fireplace if I told anyone. "Least Mom would anyway." The women on her side of the family have passed the potion on for generations. She taught it to me because I'm an only child and have an aversion to being skinned."
"If it's her formula, how does your Dad come into play?" I asked, feeling finer with every medicinal quaff.
"Well ah ya see, she doesn't know about his part in this particular concoction and he wants it to stay that way," he murmured.
"Howz that?"
"It seems that the womenfolk's original blend of tea worked great but tasted like a mixture of grizzly drool and powdered skunk glands. So, he drops in an additional elixir to make it more palatable."
"Iszat der stuff frum dat brun bottle?" I burped as my jaw went numb and I suddenly felt the need for a serious nap.
He just nodded and walked out the door.
I woke up about three hours later and called Turk.
"Thanks, man. That stuff really did a smack down on my cold. I don't have a clue why it worked, but it did," I laughed."
"No problem, bro," Turk answered. "Dad and I were one hundred proof positive you were going to feel better, one way or another."
Hmm, why do I get the feeling that, if Turk's mom reads this, those boys are going to need more than Wild Turkey Tea to heal their aches and pains?
Nick C. Varney can be reached at wufferdawg@hotmail.com.
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