In late afternoon, I went to town with the woman who’s taking the
femme’s place in the show at the county fair next week, as she wanted to sample the local cuisine. We went to the bar, where Swede was cooking. Upon seeing me, he angrily tossed a hamburger down on the grill and jammed a brick on top of it.
She, on the other hand, pleased him every much.
She started off with
verdure in pinzimonio, and then moved on to
sugo al pomodoro and
grissini torinesi, and then as a start for the main course, had
tortelloni ricotta and
spinachi, and finally
moscardini lessati alla genovese. For dessert, she had
cassata siciliana.
I can’t figure it out, how petite women can eat like a horse, and never put on weight; the
femme’s exactly the same way.
- - - - - - - - - -
When we got back here, the neighbor’s wife was here, with the five children.
I panicked, and rushed out to the back porch, hoping there were no freaks down on the river, because the children might see them. There weren’t; it was just that one trailer, nobody around.
There’d been a mix-up in communication between the neighbor and the neighbor’s wife, who’d been in the big city with the children, about what to do for supper, and they were waiting for him to come here, from the grocery store in town.
He showed up soon thereafter, with fixings for chicken salad sandwiches and potato chips. As one might suspect, there was already plenty of whole milk out here for the children, and for franksolich. The neighbor and the woman who’s taking the
femme’s place in the show at the county fair next week raided one of the refrigerators in the garage for beer. The neighbor’s wife sipped on water.
The neighbor’s oldest son, eight years old and in charge of the public viewing when the old hippies come here to camp over Labor Day, informed me again that they--his two older sisters, and two sons and one daughter of the neighbor’s older brother, and he, were all set to “make a million bucks.â€
Whoa. Talk about being under pressure. I
have to get some colorful old hippies so the kids can offer a good show, and thus far I’m stuck with only the Packer clan, which I don’t want, but will take if I have to.
I told him that the retired banker’s wife had been here this afternoon, along with her eight-year-old grandson, the kid who’s always staring at me, hoping the wind’ll blow some hair away from the sides of my head, exposing that I have no ears.
“I think you’ll have seven,†I told the eager young lad.
“He wants to sell popcorn to the spectators.â€
“Aw, but I don’t like him,†the eager young lad said. “He’s a doofus.â€
“You don’t have to like him,†I said, “but you can be fair to him. None of you six proposed selling concessions; this was his idea, and he deserves to profit from it.
“And besides, you six have to clean up after it’s all over. Think about how much easier it’ll be, seven people doing the work of six.â€
The eager young lad reluctantly assented.
- - - - - - - - - -
The neighbor’s wife sorted through the croquet outfits.
“You know, because it was important to you, she put a lot of work into this…..and the sad fact is, the children probably won’t even appreciate it, having to wear this stuff.â€
Uh, no, I said; “what kid
doesn’t like dressing up in a costume?
“And besides, they
may end up liking the game and want to play it more, in which case they’ve already got the apparel for it.â€
“And in about six months, they’ll have outgrown all of it,†she sighed.
- - - - - - - - - -
The eager young lad came back to our table, and asked me about the freaks.
“Is it okay to laugh at them?â€
The neighbor’s wife held her breath.
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no,†I said. “It depends.â€
“Depends on what?â€
“Well, if a person was naturally born a freak, born that way, no, it’s not okay, because the person wasn’t responsible for it, and probably doesn’t enjoy being a freak but can’t do anything about it.
“But if a person makes himself into a freak on purpose, it’s perfectly fine to laugh and laugh and laugh and mock and tease and ridicule and scorn and lampoon as much as one wants to--and that’s not just a rule from franksolich, but from God too. If the person did it on purpose, by all means it’s okay to laugh at him.
“Remember, not only I, but God also says this.â€
I sifted through a bunch of carnival flyers, pulling out three I wanted.
“Now, one of the freaks in the freak show is billed as ‘the world’s biggest drunk,’ and he’s going to give ‘the world’s most boring monologue on an issue of no importance at all.’
“Now, when sober and with hair, he looks, well, okay. But then he makes a freak out of himself not only by being drunk, but by shaving the hair off his head.
“It’s contemptible, the way the idiot purposely uglifies himself, and he deserves all the laughter he attracts.
“There’s ‘iffy’ cases too; for example, there’s going to be ‘the world’s ugliest woman.’ She has a face like Paul von Hindenberg. Now, you don’t know who Hindenberg was, but if you did, you’d agree if he’d been a woman and looked that way, yeah, sure, she’s grotesquely ugly.
“Now, the world’s ugliest woman wasn't responsible for looking the way she does; she was born that way.
“And so normally, it wouldn’t be good to make fun of her.
“However.
“However.
“However.
“The world’s ugliest woman is also of a mean, bitter, hate-filled, spiteful nature, which makes her ugliness even uglier. In fact, if she weren’t so mean, bitter, hate-filled, and spiteful, probably nobody’s even notice she has a face like Hindenberg’s.
“So it’s a judgement call, but my own judgement is that yeah, it’s okay to laugh at her.â€
I began reaching for the flyer advertising ‘the world’s fattest and ugliest subway cat,’ but the neighbor’s wife’s hand stayed mine.
to be continued