Sunday, October 11, 2015


We took C.W. to the state fair yesterday. Maybe we shouldn't have. He showed up to go as a gangly 12- year old boy with a "Cowboys for Jesus" tee-shirt, faded jeans, and those old wide-top cowboy boots that they used to wear in the 1940s western movies. His jeans were carefully turned up an inch and a half at the bottoms. He looked a fright, but refused to change.

"It's a cowboy-themed affair, isn't it?"

We both simply sighed and put him in the car with my mother-in-law. She wasn't sure where he came from, but she was certain that she didn't care for him. "Stay on your side," she warned.

"She keeps looking at me," he said as we entered the freeway headed for the state capitol.

"I'll take you both back home," I said. They were quiet until he started whistling "Home on the Range."

"Make him stop," she said.

"C.W," I said, "can you please be quiet until we get there?"

"I thought I was supposed to enjoy myself. Are we there yet?"

"Not yet," I said. "Just be quiet."

He muttered something I couldn't quite understand but I think it was Falloonian. Anyway, we made it to the fairgrounds without incident until we reached the entrance whereupon he began insisting that he was a visitor from another planet and should be allowed in free. Just as the ticket seller reached to call a security guard, I slapped our money on the counter, grabbed our tickets, and ushered him through.

That's when the real fun started.

He spent twenty dollars shooting targets with a cork and the attendant finally gave him a stuffed Koala Bear, more out of pity than reward, I think. My wife insisted later that it was simply to get rid of him. I think she was right. At any rate, he insisted that my mother-in-law carry it for him so he could, as he explained, it. "Keep my hands free for other displays of skill."

Then we came to the "Tsunami."

It was a ride consisting of a row of seats attached to a long arm with a weight on the other end. The attendant would begin swinging it back and forth until momentum took it in a complete rotation.

"Oh," he said, "come ride it with me."

I said, "Are you crazy?"

He looked at my wife and she gave him that "battered Falloonian" look that she has perfected so well over the years.

"If you want to ride it, you'll have to go it alone," I said.

"That's no fun," he said.

"I'll go with you," my mother-in-law said.

"No," I said.

"Come on," she said, thrusting the Koala Bear into my arms, and they were gone. My wife just stood shaking her head.

What can I say? I became a little nauseated just watching them rock back and forth until the weight took them in their circle. When it stopped, the lady sprang from her seat and fairly pranced down the steps, scarcely assisted by the operator.

"Can we do it again?" she said.

Then we looked back to see a couple of men helping C.W. from his seat. He exited like a sailor leaving a Subic Bay beer joint, literally bouncing off each side of the exit. For some genetic reason, Falloonians tend to glitter when they turn green. As a crowd began to gather, we hustled him away. The Dairy Barn was the closest thing that didn't cost money, so we ushered him in and looked at the cows until he regained his composure.

Boy, did he.

The rather huge bags on the cows transfixed him. "What on earth are those," he demanded.

A rather pretty young girl of 18 or so was tending the Holstein that drew his attention. She first looked at him as though he was crazy. Then she looked at me. I shrugged. She looked back at C.W. "That is her udder," she said, "the teats where the milk comes from."
Despite what Big Dope says, I think I'll look
great as a cowboy. - C.W.

He stared at them, then at her, then back at he cow, then back at her. "Why are they so much bigger than yo..."?

"Got to go now," I said. "Thanks for the explanation."

As we sped away, my mother-in-law said, "Is he really that stupid or is he just showing off?"

My wife said, "I told you not to bring him."

C.W. said, and everyone within fifty feet heard him, "Gee this is fun. Can we do it again next year? Hey, there is the Angus Bull building. Maybe they have oversized things too."

For those who may think it couldn't get much worse after that, trust me. It could. Let's just say that a fun day at the fair is no fun day with a Falloonian.

 Please click some ads. I spent all my money having a great time at the fair. Oh, and see
And ...
Finally, buy Big Dope's book so he'll shut up about it.
- C.W.

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