“Scratch ‘N Sniff” County Fair

This is a small town we live in. The map likes to call it “Crescent Grove,” but us folk who know better, call it “scratch ’n sniff,” because with only 132 people who live in this town, you could close your eyes and scratch the nearest one, and I swear, just by smell, you’d bet the farm on who that person was. Although, the Midwest may not be as exciting as States that thrive and pride themselves on their glamorous, bustling cities, we still know how to have a good time. Like the “ventilation bag” contest last Summer at the Crescent Grove County Fair. Boy, I tell ya, that was a knee-slappin,’ doozey of a time. There were people of all ages; twenty-two happy-go-lucky folks, all sitting in a circle, huffing and puffing their brown paper bags.







Of course, the object of the game was to see who can huff and puff, inhale-exhale the longest without fainting or passing out. Well, everyone placed their bets on Hank, a young kid, 24, who’s parents own a farm down the road; a kid who lives to boast and brag on his silicon-looking muscles and good looks, which is probably the only thing working for him, considering the fact that his brain cells seem to deplete with every year that passes. Well, they say “two’s a couple, three’s a crowd,” words I swear his brain lives by. I bet if you took what he calls the “perfect brain” out of that web-infested, echoing coconut, it would find a new home and a much more perfect fit in a hollow pecan shell. Anyway, lets not get off track here.






They were all blowing in, sucking out, of their brown little paper bags, when the first of the group started to turn red, then a purplish-blue in the face. I can sure tell you, I’ve never seen eyes as big as silver dollars before in all my life; then suddenly she started to lean forward, in what was like a slow motion scene from the Matrix; and there it was: a loud thumping “smack,” as she hit, face first, into the warm, dusty ground. It was classic, I mean a freakin’ dust cloud formed in the air. Everyone begged Granny Beth not to join in on this particular contest, but no, she was not to be outdone by a bunch of young hooligans.






I tell ya, at 96 years old, wearing those brown, knee-high stockings she says matches that old, faded dress she likes to wear, which she thinks lures the eyes of all younger men, that woman’s got a lot of spunk. What she doesn’t seem to notice is the men, who punishably, it seems, take in the foul smelling odor as they pass old Granny Beth by, who nothing but smiles and flutters her eyelashes at them. As their eyes start to water, regurgitation sets into their throats and starts to blossom. If you ever come to visit our quaint, little town and see a good many citizens wearing gas masks or even those surgical masks that doctors wear, you will, no doubt, gather why.






As far as the “ventilation bag” contest went, the majority was right. After all had thudded and passed out onto the ground, Hank was the last one standing.






This year, the fair was a little more interesting, and very peculiar to say the least. Most of us lived in the area of the fairgrounds, so when it was all over, some of us walked home when the sun was about to set.






I passed along a fella wearing a pig suit. You see, us folks put on this little performance contest, imitating our favorite animals on the farm. It was Luke, and he sure did look uncomfortable walking in that pink, swine suit of his. Then I came upon Jasper, he was in a horse outfit, which, I must say, looked pretty damn authentic, if a horse outfit ever did. He was dripping beads of sweat, and I’ll tell ya, it was a helluva sweltering day.






They both looked silly, but I just laughed inside and kept my thoughts to myself. After all, Luke was 20, and his cousin Jasper was only 19. Being 43, I thought to myself, one day these kids will grow up, mature and all, move away from home, start their own family, and look back on things they did in life and have a good, hearty laugh about it all. Shaking my head and smiling at the innocence of these two youngins,’ I walked ahead when Luke suddenly called out to me from behind:






“Hey Jake, whatcha got in there; whatever it is, it’s leaking all over the goddamn road.” I stopped there, dead in my tracks, looked down, and started to pinch my nipples. That didn’t work, so I twisted them as hard as I could bare, but still they continued to leak like a damn faucet.






“Is that milk?” Jasper asked.






“Sure is,” I replied back, “and my mom was pretty cool about it, too. She wanted my costume to be the most genuine of all the rest, so she thought adding milk in hot water bottles and attaching them to the nipples would make this cow outfit more believable, then maybe I’d be guaranteed to win the grand prize. She also said, I might get thirsty on the way back home, so she made sure to fill ’em up full. Hey, you guys thirsty?”






I handed Luke and Jasper each a red, rubber pouch filled with the best milk of this old, sweet earth.






“That sure hit the spot,” Jasper called out.






“No kidding,” Luke said. “Your mom sure looks after you, Jake.”






“Yeah, It took her a few hours to fill ‘em up, though.






“Why so long?” Luke asked.






“I’m not sure…she was all red and sore from the squeezing and all; but after she was done, she nothing but smiled, attached the red bottles to my nipples, kissed me on the forehead, and wished me good luck.”






All of a sudden, my throat was parched and I began to feel thirsty in the simmering heat, realizing I had just given away all my milk to Porky and Pokey. I started to pick up the pace.






“Where’s the fire?” Luke yelled from behind.






“Oh,” I said, “no fire, I’m just thirsty, that’s all, and mama should be full and less sore by now. I gotta get home before Kate drinks it all up.”






Luke and Jasper looked at each other, ran to the side of the road and dropped to their knees with their heads stuck in the bushes. Something sure got their attention. Must have been a rabbit. I seen lots of ‘em running round just the other day.






Yep, Kate being the older sister, she always liked to control everything, even mama’s milk.






I ran as fast as I could, as the sun would set, shining it’s last bright, glimmering beam, on my first place, golden medallion, which dangled and swayed around my neck, till I reached my family’s front porch, and was finally home.






Trent L. Collins…08-28-10