In the old days the parade was a big deal in the village. The Brock County Turnip Festival was the biggest thing to hit this shithole all year. There were all sorts of goin’s on. There was the Turnip eating contest to see who could eat the most turnips (raw) and the Turnip baking contest to see who could make them taste the best. And there was always a passing carnival at that time of year that stopped and set up a midway with a Big Dipper and a Ferris Wheel and Dodge ‘Ems. One year - that year, the last one - we even had a Scrambler.
Every year was the same, come the end of harvest time they opened the festival with the crowning of the Turnip Queen. A local young girl who got to wear the tiara carved from a specially grown turnip. By the end of the week, during the parade that turnip tiara would be fare stinking with the rot and the Queen herself would be surrounded by flies and wasps all buzzin’ on her head. But it was a privilege and a joy to be picked as the Turnip Queen and many’s a young girl in this town was jealous of the one what wore the crown. P’raps the most jealous of all was young Toby Wilkins. At the time she was one of the prettiest young things in the town, ever’whar she went the boys would be slobbering and cat calling after her and the men would cast an eye over her shapely bottom pulled high and tight by her mini shorts.

She knew they was a lookin’ at her, felt their eyes on her as she sashayed down the street in her plimsoles. She also knew that she was pretty much a shoe in for the crown that year. All her friends told her so, and she laughed and told them not to be so simple, looking at them from under her eyelashes with false modesty. All the while in her heart the fire burned long and slow.

They say that the turnip festival would still be running today if the accident hadn’t of happened.

Young Toby Wilkins, the sweetest little peach of the town, was crowned Turnip Queen that year. She wore the crown like it was made of gold and jewels and not some stinkin’ piece of vegetable. Ever’one who saw her jes’ thought she was the best Turnip Queen ever and this would be the best festival ever. Better even’n the time young Buckie Jasper had won the Turnip eatin’ contest by consumin’ 50 raw turnips in 10 minutes.

The day of the parade dawned bright and sunny, weatherman said we’d be havin’ an Injun summer that year and so far he wasn’t wrong. The crowds started fillin’ the sides of the road, sittin’ on makeshift bleachers and curbs along the route. Ol’ Man McDermott had brought along a piece of 2 by 4 and a couple of crates to let the kiddies stand up higher to see. The floats were all ready to go, linin’ up outside the town, and on the last float, with a garland of turnip leaves strung round her neck and her hair all knotted up in a pile on her head was Toby Wilkins, our Turnip Queen.

The parade started and the floats passed by the judges stand. There were people selling hotdogs and turnip burgers and fresh squeezed turnip juice and there was kiddies runnin’ and playin’ and laughin’. Toby Wilkins sat on her float waiting for her turn to stand and wave at the town. She was wearin’ her purtiest white cotton frock and her bare legs were lightly tanned. On her head the crown was moulderin’ and a meltin’ in the late summer heat and the flies buzzed around her head. But Toby Wilkins was a professional and she sat with the grace God give her not mindin’ the stink and the mess. Finally the float in front of the Turnip Queen moved off and Toby set hersel’ on her throne which wobbled twenty feet above the ground so’s all the crowd could see her. As she moved closer to the judgin’ stand she waved bigger and smiled bigger ‘n’ showed more teeth. Her wavin’ got so big that it disturbed the flies and the wasps nestin’ on her crown and they got angrier and angrier. The wasps buzzin’ and the hornets singin’ their high nasty song. Toby didn’t realise her actions wuz causin’ the insec’s so much grief and she waved even harder. The wasps flew round her head and unable to stay feastin’ on the rotten vegetable crown they gots angrier and started stingin’ the Turnip Queen.

Toby Wilkins screamed as the wasps and hornets bit and stung at her pretty face and through her light cotton dress. She slapped at herself, crazy with the pain and stumbled off her throne and down, down to the hard curbside where her brains was dashed out on the tarmac. Her blood oozed along the cracks and crevices and her white dress was torn and ripped.

After that day the Turnip festival was cancelled. All the turnip fields was ripped up and replanted with corn and barley.

Folk round here don’t celebrate the corn and barley harvest. No one can rightly figure out how to fashion a crown from a corn cob.

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Wish I’d had more time on this entry. Friday Flickr Fiction inspired by ‘Its that time of year’ by Flickr user YanivG. Also taking part this week: The Gurrier, Teaandcakes, Littlegoat, aquafortis and Chris.