The Ren fest was lovely as always; the Bakery and Mill with its working water wheel and grindstone, the Glassblowers’ shop with it’s fake bellows fed fire and the bright yellow twenty foot rocking horse with is human engine were all overflowing with people. I had avoided Ye Royal Games for years, truly there only to support my brother and his Robin Hood show, and take a handful of good pictures if I got so lucky. But this year I felt a little rowdy for some reason, quite unlike me since the days when my rowdiness would find me questioned by police.
the loudmouth with the tomato was calling me, by description actually.
It was when the young cur behind a ten by ten wall stuck his head
through a hole, below which was painted the rest of his body, were he an
eighth century hillbilly, and shouted out as I passed that I was both
fat AND ugly that I was finally suckered into the con’s covered table
where I plucked down a few greenbacks and grabbed my ammunition.
couldn’t have planned it better I thought when the first of my three
slightly split Big Boys flew out of my hand and a dozen yards from the
mark. The con pushed his head and nearly an entire shoulder through the
hole in the backboard, taunting that I couldn’t hit the broad side of a
siege engine as I corrected for my aim and toned down my zeal while
upping my speed.
If he were old enough to have hair on his baby
faced cheek, I’d have scraped it off with tomato skin as my rocket lit
his hair afire before exploding on the wall to his right. But like any
good barker he cranked up the vitriol once again as I cranked up my
grade school pitching arm, and before the crowd that had gathered, I
sent off my last gift.
It was just a game I suppose, and I was
just playing along, not offended by his slurs in the least. So I
probably shouldn’t have thrown that hard. And he was fast, I’ll give him
that, but almost not fast enough. He yanked his head back through the
hole as my tomato passed overhead, taking his hat with it on its way to
the parking lot well behind him. After a few minutes of applause had
died down, he slowly stuck his head out and goaded me in an actor’s
quivery voice. But I wasn’t tempted. I have but a few miracles up my sleeve,yet even fewer coins.