The Hardy Fall Festival Fun Day of Fun, Part One

Weekend before last, my family and I decided to trek around East-Central Mississippi for the Hardy Fall Festival Fun Day of Fun. We began our tour by traveling to Union to see the CCHS Maroon Band perform. We arrived just in time--or so we thought. As we made our way to the bleachers, an attendant roped off the section, informing us that the band was on the field--they weren't, not quite yet--and that no one was allowed admittance or movement until the band was finished. My wife Foot Foot--who was holding my two-year-old daughter Georgia--pinched Georgia's behind, and Georgia started bawling. Foot Foot then told the attendant that our two-year old had woken up at four that morning to make the four-hour trip up from our recently-devestated home on the Gulf Coast just to watch her cousin Lil' Tia wave a flag. Foot Foot pinched Georgia again, and she bawled again, and the attendant let us through.

We enjoyed the program immensely (we discovered the next Monday that they received all superiors), and once Georgia stopped crying, she enjoyed it, too, sitting still for the entire fifteen minutes. We four gave the band a standing ovation, and we left the stadium to see if we could wave to the band on their way out, and who did we see but Lila Willis and friends standing at the gate. Lila--who was wearing a Chantay Frazier mask because she said her mama wouldn't let her dress up for Halloween this year because she stole all her nieces and nephews candy last year--was standing at the outside gate with Jukebox Jermaine and some other dude. They told us that they'd jogged all the way from Jermaine's crib in suburbian Dixon to catch the show, but they were refused admittance because they didn't bring any money for tickets. Jukebox Jermaine told us that he'd told the people at the gate that he'd breakdance for them--he even brought his own piece of cardboard--if they'd just let them in, but the gatekeepers refused. Lila & co. were rather upset, and they seemed exhausted, as they were still panting and sweating. Lila asked us if we could give them a ride back to Dixon, but I had to refuse them because I knew that their horrendous body smell would stink up the Jeep. So, we left to go home, eat some homemade chil-lay, and refresh ourselves before the second leg of our trip.

Our next stop was the Lazy Acres Pumpkin Patch, Christmas Tree Farm, and Glue Factory located near Chunky. We arrived shortly after three, and the place was packed. In the picture below, see those long rows of small green objects in the left background, the ones that look like Christmas trees? Well, those aren't Christmas trees, folks; they're long rows of small, gas-effecient cars. See? Even here in backwoods Mississippi, everybody's going green.

After walking three miles from our parking spot to Lazy Acres proper, we dragged tired bodies over to the outdoor ampitheatre to see the second of the day's three pig races. Oh, but what an exciting event to watch! The entire race was neck and neck, but around the stretch, the leader--Elvis (he's the one on the inside with the black mark on his back)--started to pull away, and he won by a snout.

In lieu of a trophy, he was awarded a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich, and he gobbled it right up. Though Nicholas groaned--at eight, he's already too mature for such juvenile entertainment--Georgia was thrilled, shouting, "Wanna ride Elvis pig! Go cowboy-girl, go! Yee-hah!" as she took my cap from my head, waving it around. Next, Georgia wanted to stand next to the scarecrow and the bird, so I asked Nicholas to go join her (and Foot Foot) in the picture, but he at first refused, stating that he didn't want people to think he was only five years old. Boy--eight going on eighteen already.

By the way, take a close look at that picture above again, and notice Nicholas's height compared to Georgia's. Of course, he's a foot-and-a-half taller, right? Right. Just want to make sure you notice that, because that little bit of information will prove important later on in this story. Trust me.

Georgia wanted to go immediately to the pumpkin patch, but Foot Foot and I persuaded her to try the corn maze first because we--meaning I--sure didn't want to carry around two or three pumpkins through that maze. After a wee bit of coaxing, she acquiesced, and off we went, following the maize straw road to, you guessed it, May's Maize Maze. Before we entered, Foot Foot wanted us to pose for a picture, and so we did, just the three of us--Georgia, Nicholas, and I. Let me repeat: only three of us posed for a picture. Only three of us stood by the entrance when Foot Foot took our picture. Three of us. No one else. Look at the picture below.

See that boy to the right? The one in black? He wasn't there when Foot Foot took this picture. You know who I think he is? Oh, I bet you can guess. Remember The Blair Witch Project? Remember the last shot? Yup. I think some bedevilment was afoot that day, and soon I'll show you further proof of why.

Not knowing that anything was amiss, we walked into the corn maze. At first it was fun and mysterious, but not scary: it was daytime, and other mazers' voices drifted through the stalks, laughing and shouting with glee. About fifteen minutes into the maze, those voices started fading, and soon...well, both Georgia and Nicholas had grown tired of walking at this point, and they began to complain; they were ready to leave. Foot Foot was, too. I asked her to stop and listen to see if she heard anything. She did, and she told me she didn't. I looked at her for a few seconds, and it then dawned on her that we should be hearing other people, and we heard nothing. She then said she was ready to go--right then, just plow straight through the corn, ignoring the paths. I told her that I didn't think that was a good idea, for Georgia would surely get whipped by the stalks, and that we didn't want to put our children through any undue pain just because the two of us had grown paranoid and skittish. She reluctantly agreed.

We decided not to backtrack, for we knew we'd traveled for almost twenty minutes down the paths, and we didn't want to take another twenty returning to the entrance; so, we trudged on, the path ever-winding and ever-twisting and ever-turning. Ten minutes later, I saw an opening. I yelled to Foot Foot to follow quickly, and she did, Nicholas right behind her, but Georgia had stayed one turn behind, Foot Foot told me, and would I please run and go pick her up. I agreed, and I told her and Nicholas just to walk right on ahead, that I'd be right there.

I walked quickly back the way I had just walked, and I made the turn, but Georgia wasn't there. I called for her, and I called again. Silence. I raised my voice, calling a third time. Silence. I gathered my breath to shout, when I heard a voice gliding on the corn-flapped wind whisper, "Malachi."

Tomorrow, Part Two of the Hardy Fall Festival Fun Day of Fun.