Village fetes are quite popular in the countryside, come to think of it, it would be geographically impossible to have a village fete in a city. One of the reasons why such fetes are popular is because there is little else to do in the villages. Zooey’s local village fete had been happening annually for well over a hundred years, one would think that in such a span of time there would at least be some form of entertainment venue in the village, instead, there were five pubs and only one tiny shop, it made for a good pub crawl but sadly there weren’t enough eateries to accommodate all of the late night drunken revelries.
The village fete was held at the playing field beside the local church and contained all of the usual things one would expect from such event, a tombola, raffle and an air rifle range that used to be a real rifle range until a small boy shot someone in the leg. There was also a troupe of Morris dancers, not because they were invited because nobody openly requests their presence anywhere, they simply happen to turn up whenever a village fete is occurring like lice from an old tree stump. A few of the ‘old dears’ had prepared Victoria sponge cakes and then there was Zooey with her baked delights and the stroganoff. She had laid out a nice table using a hemp-based sack and used some of the leaves from her plants as ornamentation. The people attending the fete had little clue what tree the leaves were from, despite being born and bred surrounded by trees, they all had conflicting views on their origins.
“It’s a maple leaf, of course” Said one of the chief farmers of the village
“Tosh! Maple leaves are red because of the Canadian flag. Everyone knows that!” He had a point, even though leaves didn’t tend to choose their colours based on the flags of nation-states.
“Got to be an oak leaf, many oak trees round these parts” Butted in an ‘old dear’ who was wearing her glasses on a string around her neck instead of on her face.
“Ah yes, I see what you mean. Could be an oak leaf my dear” an old gentleman humoured the ‘old dear’ probably in the hope that she would take a shine to him.
Nobody would guess that the leaf was of the marijuana variety because most of the inhabitants at the village were too old to be concerned with such things despite the fact that it would probably benefit their numerous aches and pains that come with old age. Zooey smiled as each person tried to guess the origin of the leaf. All guesses subsided and moved to pseudo-philosophical ramblings when they tasted the brownies and muffins.
“Ah Zooey! So glad you could come to the fete and I see you’ve brought some of your baked goods with you again. How wonderful! Perhaps you can indulge me and reveal the recipe one day?” The vicar was a kindly man, always pleasant and cheery despite the doom and gloom he preached on a daily basis. He was also very fond of Zooey’s brownies and even purchased a number of them to give to his choir boy followers.
“It’s an old family recipe, father” Would’ve been the appropriate response to the Vicar’s request. He likely wasn’t expecting to be barked and hooted at, at least not until his confessions later. Thankfully, the vicar had already taken more than a few bites of his brownie and so paid no attention to the strange noises emanating from Zooey.
There was a new gentleman at the fete who took a keen interest in Zooey. He didn’t approach, nor did he attempt to make any contact with her, but he didn watch her and on more than one occasion made eye contact. Zooey clocked the stranger and found it strange that he was staring but didn’t think much of it as it wasn’t uncommon for a man to stare at an eligible young woman of similar age in a fashion resembling a cheetah stalking a gazelle. The gentleman disappeared briefly while on the phone and occasionally glancing towards Zooey’s stall. When he returned into Zooey’s vision, he asked a few of the locals some questions while pointing towards Zooey and then left the fete entirely.
It didn’t take long before Zooey had sold all of her baked goods, even the stroganoff didn’t last long, 45 minutes in fact, which isn’t long, but certainly long enough for the stroganoff to go a little off in the mild heat. One of the ‘old dears’ had purchased the entire thing and promptly devoured it in one sitting. She had previously bought several brownies and a couple of muffins. The proceeds were split, with the larger percentage going towards the church’s roof repair fund, and the other going in Zooey’s pocket. The coins did weigh the pocket down considerably and so she took them out of her pocket and into a more stable receptacle.
There was still the tombola to come, but Zooey had no time for such trivial things and considering she had sold all of her wares she decided to pack up and make for home. The Morris dancers were in full swing, waving their sticks and jingling their bells. A large space had formed around them, mostly because people were scared that whatever they had was contagious. Rumour has it, one of the Morris dancers was a well-to-do lawyer in the city that stood too close to the display three years ago and soon found himself waving and jingling with them, his wife left him, he lost his job, his big fancy house, but at least he had a silly outfit covered in bells and a wooden stick.
“Leaving so soon I see. The tombola is up next. Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay? The top prize is a tin of sausages” How the top prize would convince anyone to stay is a mystery but the vicar was making an effort at least.
“Meeow” Came Zooey’s reply.
“Meeow indeed! This year it is a named brand tin of sausages!” The vicar was a little too enthusiastic about the prize Zooey thought.
“Roar?”
“I think you can eat them raw. You can also cook with them if you please. Quite the versatile sausages they be. But oh well, I best not keep you. You probably have a whole host of animals to get back to”
“Chirp Chirp Tweet Oink” *translated loosely as - Thank you ever so much for your warm hospitality vicar. I do hope the proceeds from the bake sale help towards the repair of the church roof and that you enjoy a pleasant evening full of bliss and merriment, but not too much merriment after all because you are a member of the clergy remember. That being said, you probably enjoy a different kind of merriment to what I would consider as such, don’t think I haven’t seen the legion of choir boys in your flock. Regardless, I bid you farewell.
Zooey had packed up her table and placed it in the back or her pick-up truck. She entered the vehicle and started the engine, which is customary if one wanted to drive a car funnily enough, it had a key which she had to turn to start that engine believe it or not!
It was a little odd that Zooey’s driveway had more cars than usual on it. These cars had a striking yellow and blue checkerboard pattern on the side and large flashing lights on the top. They also had the letters P, L, I, C, O and E, but not in that order, plastered all over them. A cheeky bite of a brownie at the fete had caught up to Zooey and her mind was thinking that she was at a rave due to the flashing lights resulting in her narrowly avoiding one of the jazzy vehicles in the driveway. She knew that she had put a lot of ‘spice’ in the mixture but didn’t realise that it would have hallucinogenic effects. She could swear that she was seeing many people in fluorescent jackets sprawling around her house and in her shed, bagging up plants and burning them in a heap around the back of the house sending a plume of thick smoke billowing into the air. They all had strange faces too, with some sort of protective shield over their eyes and a large cylinder coming out of their mouths. Zooey got out of her car and stood beside it to watch the hallucinations go about their business, it had to be a hallucination she thought because nobody in the right mind would burn all of that weed.
“Ms. Green?” The gentleman from the fete was now comfortable approaching Zooey, this time he was also wearing a fluorescent jacket. “Ms. Zooey Jade Cinnamon Emerald Green?”
“Woof” She replied in a fugue-like state.
“I’m arresting you on possession with intent to supply class B drugs. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you unde
rstand?” The gentleman was now behind Zooey and placing some rather spangly silver bracelets on her wrists.
“Yelp, Growl, Ssssss” *Excuse me sir, but I do not subscribe to the sordid activities you are suggesting with your spangly silver bracelets.
The officer questioning Zooey had a thick northern accent which was difficult even for a northerner to discern.
“”gha^&k2(*” He said in his northern brogue.
“Bark, tweet tweet, oink moo”
“&G’)(;./>%%^&!!!” Zooey couldn’t quite understand what the officer was saying and he couldn’t understand what she was saying, at least Zooey knew by the exclamation marks that the officer was starting to get a little angry.
“Oink oink, chirp oink moo, woof woof” Zooey was pretty sure she wasn’t high, though it was difficult to say for sure because she was very confused by her surroundings and the sounds coming from the officer in front of her. She had dabbled in role play before but none quite so intense.
"$Rf^S Constable!”
“Yes, sir” A spry young lad entered the bare room and sat beside the northern officer.
“$Y&”*=”
“My colleague thinks that you are taking the mickey out of his accent. I can assure you that that is not wise given the circumstances you’re in and the charges against you. Do you understand?”
“ruff, squeak oink moo baa” There was a pleading tone in Zooey’s words, her eyes were red, but not appearing to be sarcastic. The two officers spoke to each other in hushed tones out of ear shot of Zooey.
“We are giving you one last chance to comply”
“Oink oink moo bark hoot hoot neigh whinny moo” Which sounded sincere in tone only. The two officers spoke to each other again. And then left the room. When they returned there was a third person with them.
“Hello, Zooey. My name is Francine. I understand you’re not cooperating with these gentlemen here”
“MOO oink neigh tweet chirp moo cluck”
“Anything else?”
“cluck baah neigh whinny moo oink cluck bleat moo oink whinny moo” Zooey was gesturing wildly with her hands and making sweeping motions despite her hands being handcuffed to the table. The role play had gone on a little too long for her liking. The gestures had concerned the officers who felt it best to fetch a strait jacket and ensure that Zooey wore it. The role play had certainly gone far too far for Zooey’s liking.
“MOO OINK MOO CLUCK NEIGH OINK WHINNY OINK MOO MOO!” Zooey struggled to break free from the strait jacket but there was no use. She was strapped to a stretcher and placed into an awaiting van to be taken to the local asylum.
The padded cell was comfortable enough.
“Whinny moo”
TOMMY
Since Thor is an ancient Norse deity, it is unlikely that the name is trademarked and so it is safe to assume that making reference to the god is fair game. What always strikes a chord though, is that Thor is also known as the god of thunder, which indicates that Thor must have a very booming voice, which is likely should such a deity exist considering the godlike nature of it all. It always seemed more fitting to go by God of Lightning, because having the power to send a booming shout after an erratically destructive burst of lightning is pretty unimpressive in comparison.
Given the little spiel about Thor, it wouldn’t be irrational to think that the following events took place on a day where dark clouds filled the skies and lightning crackled in the air. However, rationality is a concept that could also be construed as subjective. As a matter of fact, the following events did not take place on a stormy night, it was actually quite an average day, a little overcast but a far cry from the violent spasms nature occasionally has. On this rather drab day, Tommy developed the ability to shoot lightning from his fingertips.
There was nothing particularly special about this guy other than he had been featured in his local newspaper after submitting a photo of a rather lewd looking vegetable. That was almost five years ago. Four years, two hundred and ninety six days – not that anyone was counting. The local newspaper ran a semi-frequent segment on funny looking inanimate objects that resembled other less than savoury objects. The submissions were often sexual in nature with one top prize winner entering a photo of a chair that looked like two bison engaged in a rather sordid activity. Tommy was the first person to enter a lewd looking vegetable and since then the segment was inundated with vegetables that looked rather raunchy. There was no tangible prize for the winner, only bragging rights, not that there was much to brag about.
After such a long time away from the spotlight, Tommy was quite ready to be thrust deep into the bowels of it once again. There were many fruitless attempts to recreate his early success with regards to lewd vegetables, he had tried to grow cucumbers in the shape of the male dangly-bits, he had even submitted one to the very same newspaper as before only to have them reply by saying that cucumbers already resemble the male dangly-bits anyway and that his submission was nothing special, a little larger than average but nothing to make one’s grandma blush. He was not dismayed though and tried to interbreed cucumbers with potatoes in the hope that two of them would merge with a cucumber to form a more anatomically correct specimen. Alas, the potatoes caught wise to his schemes and decided not to be involved in such lewd activities. After many attempts, Tommy was ready to throw in the towel and move on, but only after one last pop at breaking the lewd vegetable scene and it was harvest time.
For his final attempt, Tommy had decided to grow pumpkins, believing that they must have some kind of special quality given that they were held in very high regard during the last day of October for some bizarre and inexplicable reason. It was time to reap what he sowed.
“This better be good” He said as he plunged his trowel deep into the earth.
He levered the trowel gently at first and then with some force to pry the pumpkin from the safety of the dirt. To say it was similar to the beauty of childbirth would be an overstatement, after all, it was just some guy using a trowel to pull a pumpkin out of the ground, considering not many child births involve trowels it is safe to say that it looked nothing like child birth – except in the cases of kids harvested in cabbage patches in which case trowels are a must have accessory for the midwife.
“Oh my…. It’s gorgeous” The pumpkin Tommy pulled out was indeed gorgeous, and voluptuous, and with a slender hourglass figure with a cracking pair of… and then it exploded in his face.
Tommy wasn’t sure what had happened, he felt a tingle in his fingertips and then before he knew it had pumpkin juices all over himself. It tasted nice, but not as sweet as the glory that could’ve been if he had managed to take a snapshot of his prized pumpkin. He took a mental snapshot of course, but it’s not as though he could submit that to the local newspaper in a hurry. Tommy was not defeated though, he had planted several pumpkins in his quest to find the perfect raunchy specimen. He picked himself up and then placed himself down alongside the second pumpkin. Trowel at the ready, he dug into the soft earth and pulled out another beauty. Curvier than the last but some people like it like that, the rear of the pumpkin was well-formed and shapely… and then it exploded in his face. Sparks fizzled in the air. To happen once was bizarre, but to happen twice was suspicious. Naturally, Tommy assumed that the perfectly proportionate pumpkins were too saucy to be taken from the ground and therefore erupted before any human could erupt over them. It was also possible that the ground caused the pumpkins to explode due to being bitter about the pumpkins being taken from it. Though that was unlikely as there hadn’t been an incident of bitter earth for at least three generations and that was only because some fool decided to taste the earth only to find it a little bitter.
The third pumpkin was next to be revealed, this one had to be just right because if it worked for Goldilocks then it would work for Tommy, after all, they were practically twins despite one being a small golden-haired girl ultimately eaten by hungry hungry bears and the other being a grizzled, slightly balding man not yet e
aten by hungry hungry bears. Hungry bears are relatively docile, it’s the hungry hungry bears one needs to watch out for and don’t even think about approaching the hippo equivalent.
The trowel entered the earth and pried out a comely looking pumpkin. It wasn’t as appealing as the first, nor was it as curvy as the second, but it had the qualities of a pumpkin that you would take home to your parents… and then it exploded in his face. By now, Tommy’s visage was covered in pumpkin juice and pumpkin bits, he wiped it off as best he could as the bits mixed with the tears. The introduction of tears onto his flesh caused Tommy to shudder violently and pass out. Sparks flew all around him and then whizzed into nothing.
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