“Is that *Iowa* corn over there, Chuck?” asks Tom, noticing the discoloration and almost slicing off one of his fingers in the concern. “Because that’s not allowed. Poison,” he followed. “You’ll have to use Illinois.”
“Oh,” said Chuck, recognizing his mistake. “Thanks a lot!” Forgot to throw out the last of it when they received the call from the local Hy-Vee yesterday. Almost got 1/2 the restaurant sick!
“AND we need to take that Iowan car down from above the counter too. Gives paying customer the wrong impression, bad press and all. We must distance ourselves–”
“–from the Heartland as much as possible, yes,” completes Chuck for Tom, one in the moment, their hatred of it growing by the hour, minute, day. What will it be tomorrow? Wheat? What’s Kaboom made out of? Lucky Charms? Everyone will be doomed; no getting well atall, at least for the older and more vulnerable folks, thinking Kennedys here.
Shelley, fresh from pretend slaughtering hogs down the street, another Iowan staple, waits at the counter, overhearing it all. I could still use that corn for gas, she thinks humorously, staring at the mounted red ’57 Chevy and understanding why she’s here. “Wait!” she called, just as Tom was about to dump the corn in the bin like a baby that’s its own bathing water. “And I’ll take the car off your hands too,” she adds just later. Is that stretching a joke? You bet!
—–
Filled up ’57 Chevy down on the ground and ready to roll again, she comes to the actual reason for visiting Cedar Creek in the first place: Daniel’s day trailer, erm, Daniel’s trailer during the day. Lunchtime, so should be home.
“Hello?” Knock knock knock. “Hello??”
No one there, but finding the door unlocked she decides to wait inside. Why not? All this is role playing after all.
On the tellie, Shelley sees what Baker B. and Daniel D. are watching at the morning job Baker had kept him late at again, more magic of the place. “Peewee Big,” Shelley recognizes, probably to compare it with “Father Fred”. Toward the end of the sync, Shelley also saw, right where Josh is hearing potentially triggering music again. Daniel should be here soon, she knows, aiming to eat a quick sandwich or something then head off to the afternoon job. I won’t be long.
Sunklands 