QOD: Aren't papier mache cuts the worst?

Tell you one thing, summers hereabouts ain’t lackin’ for somethin’ to tickle a funnybone. Gits us folks visitin’ all through the good weather. Gotta watch some, o’ course, ‘cause they got theyselves a notion to go robbin’ folks blind. Travellers be what they call theirselves. ‘Course, we ain’t had us none o’ them, oh, since that Great Depression went blowin’ off them grasslands. Folks took off ever which way back then, just like ol’ Tom down to Crickside can tell you. Mostly got food stole then, ‘n’ since? Well, robbin’ people blind ‘round here ain’t gonna make nobody rich quick, if’n you see what I mean.

Lotsa time some feller come trottin’ in to do us good. Don’t mind if them kind come in ‘n’ mend a roof or two, maybe build a porch, long as they’s got sense to keep they tongue ‘twixt they teeth for a good spell whilst doin’ all that good. Some though, oh, they talk your ear right off your head with singin’ Jesus praises ‘n’ offerin’ to set on down ‘n’ read the good news to y’all. What they thinkin’ we got us a preacher for?

Then we gits us somebody or ‘nother doin’ a census, or a study o’ this or that. Never can tell with them kinda folks if’n they be chatty or keep to theirselves. Gits us a student or two now ‘n’ agin, too. Doin’ some kinda internship, is what they calls ‘em. Now them are the challengin’ ones, ‘cause they ain’t fixin’ on doin’ nothin’ but improvin’ folk. Oh, lordy, git so you hear a body talkin’ ‘bout potential, you git your heels clickin’ right smart ‘n’ carry your body straight outer there. Them kind can do some mighty fine child tendin’ though, so’s you cain’t offer to give ‘em a lift to the county line nor nothin’ like that. Kids’ll fall for just ‘bout anythin’ at all; you ever notice that? Don’t matter what manner o’ fool durn silly, neither, long as it gits them chores shoved off another little bit.

So this slip of a gal come right early one year, end o’ April when the roads was still nothin’ but muck from the snowmelt. Had to hitch her a ride with one o’ them Flynts over to Post Hole, comin’ the long way on that ol’ Pit Road. Then o’ course, they brang her over Yon Hill with all her gear strapped to the back of a mule. She were a right muddy mess with that yeller hair o’ hers takin’ flight a hunnerd diff’rent ways. Miz Ruddy done volunteered to put her up, so’s she got a bath waitin’ soon’s she hears that mule brayin’ ‘bout the nasty footin’ ‘n’ what the hey is these folks gonna be doin’ to him next?

First thing once that gal gits clean, she’s wantin’ a big ol’ pole planted, which means we git diggin’ in that fool mud out back there. Wants her a ladder next, ‘n’ she hammers these long streamer things right to the top. May Pole, she calls it, ‘n’ we gits a nice lecturin’ on how we got ancestors done this dance ‘n’ the kids go windin’ up them streamers ‘round the pole. Cain’t quite picture how that’s gonna work but them kids is all for it, ‘n’ the rest figure it cain’t hurt to have a little sit-down entertainment.

All’s I can say is that after a whole lot o’ laughin’ ‘n’ squealin’ ‘n’ whatnot, them kids has got Percy Wilton weaved right smack to that pole ‘n’ ain’t no gittin’ him out without cuttin’ them purty colored streamers. That yeller haired gal taked it well enough, keepin’ her chin up ‘n’ her smile painted on. Still, we all felt a bit bad for her with her plans comin’ out awry. So’s everbody lets they kids purty much off chores that week so’s that gal’s next little gig maybe go a bit smoother.

We gits a bit more lecturin’ ‘bout artistic whatnot ‘n’ learnin’ ‘bout other cultures ‘sides our own. ‘Course, we’s thinkin’ we got plenty o’ both with that fancy pole o’ hers. Still, we all go lendin’ her buckets ‘n’ flour ‘n’ all the ol’ papers ‘n’ magazines we can find. Gonna learn us ‘bout somethin’ called paypeeay mowshay. Took a bit learnin’ how to say them words. French, she called it, but it were Mexico we was aimin’ toward. Makin’ piney yatas, which were Spanish, she says. We all’s confused good ‘n’ proper by now, but she gots her another for us. Sincoh dee mayo. Sorta like Fourth o’ July only not.

Anyways, she gits the kids blowin’ up these big ol’ balloons ‘n’ wouldn’t you just know it—that Percy goes ‘n’ puffs hisself dry wantin’ to be first after that pole fiasco. Passes out just like that, ‘n’ his balloon go flyin’ ‘n’ hissin’ this way ‘n’ that. Kids commences laughin’ ‘n’ sets they own free to go on a hissin’ fly. Takes a bit gittin’ ‘em to settle down, but that yeller haired gal’s got a right mess o’ shine in her eyes ‘n’ we all’s fearin’ ain’t long but she gonna spring her a leak ‘n’ drown us all.

‘Ventually we gits all them balloons blowed up ‘n’ tied. That gal commences showin’ how to git makin’ them piney yatas. Now, you ain’t gonna believe this next bit but I swear honest to god it’s truth straight through from one side to t’other. She rips off a strip o’ paper, dunks it in this mess of flour ‘n’ water she gots in a bucket, ‘n’ then plunks it down on the balloon. Kids is lookin’ right blank but she keeps a’smilin’ as she dip some more paper ‘n’ plunk it down. Gotta git it all covered like, ‘n’ then she gonna show ‘em how to git some real special goin.’

For the next few days, we all’s got us some durn messy kids to clean ever night. But they’s full o’ good cheer ‘n’ whisperin’ secrets just like it were Santa ‘n’ the Easter bunny they was a’buildin’ back there. Toward the end, we was washin’ paint off o’ them kids ‘stead o’ that sticky flour, which were somethin’ of a change, I guess. Right purty colors.

Come May fifth, them kids all disappear right after breakin’ they fast, ‘n’ after a bit come runnin’ home to grab they mommas ‘n’ papas ‘n’ the babies ‘n’ the ol’ folks too. We gits on out there to the Pitney’s orchard, with all them trees bloomin’ in pinks ‘n’ whites. Hangin’ from them trees is quite a sight. Kids is tellin’ us what all they is, which were a good thing, ‘cause most often you got to squint ‘n’ imagine some to see it. Fat ol’ dogs ‘n’ pigs ‘n’ monkeys ‘n’ such. They’s swayin’ in the breeze, these paypeeay mowshay critters ‘n’ we all gits to clappin’ if only to give ‘em credit for stickin’ so long to it.

It ain’t over. Nope, next thing is they gits this stick, ‘n’ the yeller haired gal blindfolds somebody, whirls ‘em ‘round a time or three, ‘n’ hands ‘em the stick. Point is, to smack one o’ them critters ‘n’ break it. Seems a right fool thing to do after takin’ all that time makin’ ‘em, but them kids is laughin’ they fool heads off so we all go ‘long with it. ‘Course, it were a bit o’ danger handin’ that stick to some o’ them kids, ‘n’ all of ‘em’s smackin’ air ‘n’ ground ‘n’ treetrunks a good deal more’n they’s hittin’ them critters hangin’ from the branches. Took a good long time o’ takin’ turns whackin’ them things afore one gits broke good ‘n’ proper.

We seen the point then. Bits o’ candy ‘n’ whistles ‘n’ toys ‘n’ all come pourin’ out o’ that critter’s middle. After that, we all just set back ‘n’ enjoy seein’ them kids bangin’ away at the others, plumb destroyin’ they own work ‘n’ havin’ fun doin’ it. The yeller haired gal’s lookin’ so pleased she fit to bust, ‘n’ when we all gives her a whoop shout ‘n’ a round o’ applause, them tears finally come spillin’ over. That were fine, though, ‘cause that smile come shinin’ through.