So, yeah, this went downhill kind of fast, but, let’s face it, not all that much faster than I expected. I mean, the whole reason we come up here to LaFontaine was because everybody just kept talktalktalking and I finally said “well, while you guys are chewing air I’m going to go rescue some hobos,” so all of us but Nicky, who isn’t responding to any language but engine rumbles these days, piled into a couple of Model T’s (one just for me, thank Gud) and hit the road.
We got to town (“town,” ha! In Eskilstuna we would have laughed at how small this place was) around lunchtime, so we stopped into the restaurant for a bite and to get the lay of the land. It seems Poppa Popcorn’s a big man around here, but that nobody likes him much. That reminded me a bit of home, too. So, anyway, we head out to the farm, and a) the corn is about half again as high as it should be by this early in the year and b) there are way more scarecrows visible than seems normal. There’s also a gathering of about fifty mice all lined up looking straight at us, then turning and moving off as one.
Anybody else having memories of cockroaches?
The Padre talked to some farm hands and one of them led us up to the farmhouse, where the whole family has been very rude to us. And once I mentioned kidnapped hobos, by “rude” I mean “firing shotguns at us.”
Which is about what I expected to happen, really, and what I came mentally prepared for…except for the women. Mrs. Popcorn has taken a few shots at me and I am frankly at a loss as to what to do about it. Her husband was easy; I just punched him ‘til he stopped. But somehow I need to get that shotgun out of her hands an….oh.
So that’s what all those scarecrows were about.