The lone farmer walked the grass-covered paths between the numerous wood frame booths on the county fair.
He maneuvered himself between the crowds of hungry cowboy and baseball cap wearing visitors.
Nelson and Lincoln were waiting for him at the roundabout.
“There he is, there’s our mad hatter!” Lincoln yelled while waving his arms dramatically in the air.
Lincoln was much younger that Nelson and the lonesome farmer, Nelson wasn’t sure where Lincoln reference was from but he got that it was about the short rounded cap Dean had on his head.
Lincoln was the youngest farmer around, he inherited his father’s land and began farming on it in a new-age kind of way hippie way, bio-something, earth friendly, green and cuddly.
Nelson looked a lot like Clint Eastwood, and he didn’t hide it, and there was not much more that could be said about him.
“What’s with the hat lone farmer.”, Nelson said without moving his jaws.
Dean fixed his kufi and said, “My wife said it would be a nice gesture, being in solidarity with my new scarecrow and all that.”
The three began walking to the field which had animals on display, available for sale or trade.
Nelson relighted the half smoked cigar in the corner of his mouth and asked, “You got a new scarecrow?”
“My old one stopped scaring the birds, so I ordered a new one on the Internet, it’s Muslim scarecrow, straight from Afghanistan.”, Dean explained.
Nelson winked at some middle aged woman and said, “A Muslim scarecrow.. What does it pack explosives?”
Lincoln exhaled and said, “Nelson don’t say things like that, Muslims are not the same thing as terrorists.”
“No it’s dressed like a Muslim I guess, I don’t care much about how it looks anymore, it’s doing it’s job so. There is only one downside to having one, I have to make it face Mecca five times a day so it can pray.”
“How about that recession, huh.”, Nelson said out of the blue trying to get away from the Muslim themed subject.
“Don’t go there Nelson.”, Lincoln said in a strict voice.
Nelson came to a stop at an dirt road leading to the right, “I got to go.”
“Oh, the pie making contest?” Lincoln said.
Dean couldn’t believe his ears, “Nelson bakes pies?”
“Nah man, I’m on the jury because Clint Eastwood looks just like me.”, Nelson said right before he walked towards a crowd of woman holding pies.
A rather obese lady was speeding her electric wheelchair through the small lane between the booths, “Move move move! Someone just drowned in the apple bobbing barrel!” She yelled while shooing people aside with one arm.
“Want to go check that out?” Lincoln asked Dean.
“I can’t, I got to get back to my farm, it’s time for my Muslim scarecrow’s prayer.”, Dean said before he turned around and walked back to the donkey he bought with a discount when he ordered his Muslim scarecrow.
He rode it off into the sunset.
He maneuvered himself between the crowds of hungry cowboy and baseball cap wearing visitors.
Nelson and Lincoln were waiting for him at the roundabout.
“There he is, there’s our mad hatter!” Lincoln yelled while waving his arms dramatically in the air.
Lincoln was much younger that Nelson and the lonesome farmer, Nelson wasn’t sure where Lincoln reference was from but he got that it was about the short rounded cap Dean had on his head.
Lincoln was the youngest farmer around, he inherited his father’s land and began farming on it in a new-age kind of way hippie way, bio-something, earth friendly, green and cuddly.
Nelson looked a lot like Clint Eastwood, and he didn’t hide it, and there was not much more that could be said about him.
“What’s with the hat lone farmer.”, Nelson said without moving his jaws.
Dean fixed his kufi and said, “My wife said it would be a nice gesture, being in solidarity with my new scarecrow and all that.”
The three began walking to the field which had animals on display, available for sale or trade.
Nelson relighted the half smoked cigar in the corner of his mouth and asked, “You got a new scarecrow?”
“My old one stopped scaring the birds, so I ordered a new one on the Internet, it’s Muslim scarecrow, straight from Afghanistan.”, Dean explained.
Nelson winked at some middle aged woman and said, “A Muslim scarecrow.. What does it pack explosives?”
Lincoln exhaled and said, “Nelson don’t say things like that, Muslims are not the same thing as terrorists.”
“No it’s dressed like a Muslim I guess, I don’t care much about how it looks anymore, it’s doing it’s job so. There is only one downside to having one, I have to make it face Mecca five times a day so it can pray.”
“How about that recession, huh.”, Nelson said out of the blue trying to get away from the Muslim themed subject.
“Don’t go there Nelson.”, Lincoln said in a strict voice.
Nelson came to a stop at an dirt road leading to the right, “I got to go.”
“Oh, the pie making contest?” Lincoln said.
Dean couldn’t believe his ears, “Nelson bakes pies?”
“Nah man, I’m on the jury because Clint Eastwood looks just like me.”, Nelson said right before he walked towards a crowd of woman holding pies.
A rather obese lady was speeding her electric wheelchair through the small lane between the booths, “Move move move! Someone just drowned in the apple bobbing barrel!” She yelled while shooing people aside with one arm.
“Want to go check that out?” Lincoln asked Dean.
“I can’t, I got to get back to my farm, it’s time for my Muslim scarecrow’s prayer.”, Dean said before he turned around and walked back to the donkey he bought with a discount when he ordered his Muslim scarecrow.
He rode it off into the sunset.
