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Arrrrrr! These are rotten!

The gardener’s wife rushes up to collect the mess in a basin. She says,

This is seed! You gotta rippen it full.

______________________________

The gardener and his family are standing at the end of the gangplank.

Finegan has donated his rusty wagon to the family, and it is piled high

with bags of vegetables and their personal possessions. Other bags and

bundles are piled around their feet. Finegan strides across the

gangplank with the packet of seeds the woman at the old folks home had

given him. He hands this to the gardener.

Joey is right behind him on the gangplank, one of the remaining

pumpkins in his hands. He hands this to the gardener’s daughter.

Finegan says,

I gather pumpkin wants a lot of room, but now

you’ll have the room.

The gardener is thanking Finegan.

Don’t know what I’d a done without y’all

stopping by.

But Finegan says he was part of the problem.

It was no lucky coincidence. Twas my weight

that tripped the balance. But it was gonna go

anyhow. . . Appreciate the potatoes and cabbage

and all.

______________________________

Finegan has the portable camping grill fired up with a small wood fire,

a deep pot on the grill filled with burbling hot water. The lid is off

the pot and he is brushing some chopped vegies off a cutting board into

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the pot - carrots, an onion, several potatoes, and some cabbage. The

houseboat is drifing offshore from where the gardener’s family had been

dropped ashore. Finegan glances in that direction as he settles back

onto a box, munching on a raw carrot, contemplative and exhausted. The

vegetable bins behind him are stuffed with the new produce.

Barney comes up to sit nearby, his nose in the air, sniffing the

boiling vegie stew. Finegan hands a raw carrot down to Barney, who lays

down to chew on it contentedly.

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New Leaders

The houseboat is peddling along between the shoreline and an immense

island formed by the rising water. There appears to be water on at

least the three sides of the island that they can see. Joey brings

Finegan a map while he pedals along, confused about their location.

Finegan gets off the bike seat and comes to comb over the map with

Joey, who has spread the map out on top of a box at the rear of the

houseboat. Their heads are together over the map, while Finegan runs

his finger along the Ohio River.

I think we’ve going up the Ohio by mistake.

Hard to tell. All one big watery mess. . . I’m

thinking more and more these days about heading

back. Least I knew what I was looking at.

In the background they hear a drum set being played, then a saxophone

bleating a few shrill notes. Finegan and Joey turn their heads in the

direction of the island. Now they hear a guitar being strummed and

tuned. Finegan and Joey look at each other and smile.

______________________________

Finegan and Joey are going over the rise of a hill, walking along a

dirt road lying between fallow fields. A flea market is laid out in a

pasture, dozens of blankets or tarps spread out on the ground with

wares laid out for inspection. Some hold pots and pans, dish sets with

many of the dishes or glasses chipped or cracked, incomplete tableware

sets, racks of used clothing for both children and adults, hand tools,

bags of apples and onions and nuts, chickens and roosters in cages, a

calf, bicycle parts, a used shoe display, non-battery key-winding

clocks including a large coocoo clock, a hair salon where a hairdresser

is snipping away at someone’s head, and a display of hubcaps which is

getting zero attention.

On one side a band is being formed, with a drum set, sax, guitar, a

violin, harmonica, and pebbles in a tin can. The band members are

trying out various songs, this or that member suggesting a tune and

playing a bar, then another having an opinion. Finally they settle and

start to play “Happy Days are Here Again” in a disjointed manner.

Finegan and Joey are walking slowly down between the blankets laid with

wares until they come to the shoe rack. Joey stops and begins comparing

his shoe up against some boots and tennis shoes for children his age.

Finegan asks,

Your shoes getting tight?

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Joey looks up at Finegan and nods. The shoeman notes their interest and

comes up.

There’s some nice boots you got on. Quality.

Make you a trade for some these others here.

The boots he is motioning to are not the same quality as the pair Joey

wears. They are scuffed, have less tread, and have clearly seen more

wear and tear. Joey is laying them alongside the boots he has on,

measuring the size in this way. Joey sits on the chair the shoeman

offers his clients and pulls off one of his boots, trying on the larger

boot. He stomps on his foot and looks up at Finegan, smiling.

On the perimeter of the flea market is a barbeque pit, which is

smoking, the coals glowing, but the meat to be cooked is missing. A

horse drawn wagon is approaching this spot, loaded with a large dead

pig and cages holding young piglets. The dead pig has tusks, was a

feral pig, and is covered with coarse hair rather than the soft pink

skin of domestic pigs. It has been gutted and is ready to cook. Two men

riding on the back of the wagon hop off and pick up the ends of the

barbeque spit which has been driven through the dead pig from one end

to the other. They heave the pig into the air and carry it over to the

barbeque pit, placing it on the Y stands at either end of the pit. Now

that the meat has been placed above the fire, they complete the

skinning process, pulling the skin up over the pig’s head and over the

tusks, which are attached to the head bones and resist breaking off.

The wagon master is a young girl about 11 years of age. She is

barefoot, wears bib jeans with a t-shirt underneath, and has her hair

in braids on either side. She secures the reins and hops off the wagon

seat, pulling a board nailed onto a stake from the wagon bed. On the

board, in red paint, are the words “Wild Piglets”. She walks over to a

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clear area near the barbeque pit, reserved for her display, and hammers

the stake into the ground there, tossing the hammer into her wagon.

One of her two men picks up a covered bucket of barbeque sauce from the

wagon bed and returns to baste the now roasting pig. The other comes to

help the girl unload the piglets in cages. The piglets are young, only