Richard, the paperboy from The Red Scarf, 1944, #9

September 29
Richard, the paperboy, in The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944 #9
Yeah, last week was Fair Week. Uh, huh, the Union County Fair was in El Dorado all week. Naturally, it rained, but it always does during Fair Week, so that weren't nothing. Yes, I went to the fair, and, if you asked me how it was, I'd probably lie like some sorry yard dog, and say "It was great!" And I'd be right...at least partly right. Well, maybe your can't be partly right, so I'll just say some of the stuff was real fun, and then, oh my gosh, something happened that just was the worstest thing you can imagine.
Well, let me start with the good stuff and I'll tell you the bad stuff tomorrow. John Clayton's daddy drove me and John Clayton to the fair, and dropped us off. That was good cause only the little kids have their parents tag along with them. Shoot, we was so excited we could hardly stand it. And as soon as we got on the midway we saw the Bullet...we was gonna ride it later...maybe, if we didn't chicken out. It sure looked scary. But before we could get even 10 feet down the midway, a man yelled at us. "Hey, boys! Come try your luck! Win a big furry dog!" Course, we stopped and looked at the booth and there was a man holding a bunch of slingshot standing out front and row after row of big white plates. "Just break three and take your pick!" Heck, I ain't no little 8 year old, so I figured there was a trick to it. Break three plates with a slingshot from about ten feet. My six year old little borther could do that. They was a trick and we weren't gonna fall for it. About that time this Yankee man...who really did sound funny...said, "Too hard for you, boys?" and he laughed this kinda high sounding laugh like he was making fun of us. "Richard, that Yankee man don't think we can shoot a slingshot," whispered John Clayton. Well, that got my dander up and I kinda swelled up and walked up to talk to the man. "What you gotta do to win one of them big furry dogs," I said. "Just break three plates with three of the steel balls." "Naw?" I said. "What else?" "That's it. Here let me show you how to shoot a slingshot."
I looked at him kinda funny. Shoot a slingshot? Heck, I'd been shooting a slingshot since I could walk. Was he serious about just having to break three plates? "Now, tell me again...just stand here with my eyes open and break three plates with three shots? Is that right?" "Why yes, boys. To hard for you?" That did it. "Here's my quarter. Gimmie that danged slingshot."
Well, crash, crash, crash...three shots and three broken plates. Shoot, John Clayton was pushing me outta the way before I could give the man another quarter, and Ears and Tiny was lining up to shoot. Heck, I guess that danged Yankee man hadn't been to Arkansas, cause after John Clayton, Ears and Tiny won a big furry dog, he shut down the booth, "Damn, hillbillies!" I heard him mutter. "We ain't hillbillies," I yelled, as we walked away. "We's just white trash!"
Gosh, if we had just gone home right then, but we didn't...the Bullet was right ahead...I'll tell you the bad part of the fair tomorrow...and belive me it's the badest thing that could every happen to an 11 year old.