Velociworld

Hellspike! Curlew! Hither!

The hamlet of Hoschton, down the road, is having their annual fall festival in two weeks. With a twist.

They're having a Scarecrow Stampede. (!) Yes (!) They want to set a Guiness world record for the most scarecrows in an area. In this case, ZIP code 30548. They want to have 4,000, but by anecdotal observation I predict it will be somewhere in the neighborhood of a girthzillion. Here's the Publix supermarket by the house:

Creepy shit, that. They're like zombies, Eric. Only they move so slow you'll never even see them sneak up on you. Like the topiary in The Shining. Every time you turn around in these parts zombiecrows are everywhere. Riding broncos, sitting on toilets, performing Deliverance-style buttfucking scenarios. Okay, that last one may be made up. I haven't made my scarecrows yet.

Anyway, I figure I'll have to make this festival. The Canon Rebel digital, a liter of George Dickel No. 12 sour mash (motto, as always: "Put a Little Dick in Your Mouth!"), the .45 automatic, perhaps the bullwhip. Sort this damned thing out. I will, of course, be wearing my favorite scarecrow outfit:

Lest they think I'm a poseur, or anti-McGoohan, or something. Perhaps some of the Atlanta bloggers will join me. As honorary bailbondsmen.

Hellspike, Curlew, damn it!