Undercover Rose
Chapter 80

Copyright© 2013 by carniegirl

Gulfport Mississippi was home of the Shrimper's Festival, but it would always be in my mind as the place where I was born again. I woke up the first day of the festival in a cheap motel. I should have been depressed with the size and shabbiness of the place. I might have been, if the sun hadn't been shining so bright.

The bright sunshine was proof that I had slept well. Long and hard was how I judged it. I didn't have to force myself to get out of bed. I was eager to see what the day held for me. First things first, damn I need food. It isn't that I know it's time to eat. I fucking need food, I thought with a happy smile.

I didn't take the anti depressant that morning but I did carry the bottle with me, just in case. I did put my 'get out of town free' bag back into the truck. I did that before I drove to the first fast food place I seen on the drive to the motel.

The coffee had improved at all the fast food restaurants making them my place of choice for breakfast when on the road. Too bad I couldn't say as much for the food. In my experience there were several types of eggs prepared in fast food restaurants. Worst of all was the hockey puck egg. It was also my least favorite.

I guess it was supposed to be a fresh egg poured into a biscuit cutter, then cooked hard. In fact it was hard as a hockey puck and about as appealing. Even so that morning I found it tolerable. I even had hash brown potatoes in a little bag with it and of course two cups of their really good coffee. The coffee made it all bearable for me.

I drove the small truck to the large field where the vendors were supposed to set up shop. I had my letter confirming my reservation in hand before I went in search of an official to assign me a space. I had chosen, to start with, what had been described in the online brochure as an intimate festival. I assumed that was their idea of how to describe a small show.

There would be no more than fifty vendors the information said. I was one of them. For the show I had found a photograph on line of a shrimp boat. I studied it then drew one freehand. My shrimp boat was just a little more streamlined. I hoped that would make it more appealing, but I had no idea. It would be my first experiment with festivals. Well first as an exhibitor anyway.

From the truck I removed a small table and a canvas sling chair. Then out came the box of art supplies and finally the box of drawings for sale. I expected to maybe make the expenses, but I doubted it.

I set up the displays low to the ground. Partly because the shorter stands took up less room in the truck and partly because people didn't mind looking down at things at table height. I had a clothesline kind of display. It was easier to handle, if the line was a little higher than my waist. It took up less room in the truck than individual stands would have as well. As long as the wind didn't blow too hard I was fine. In Gulfport the wind cooperated and remained a warm gentle breeze off the gulf.

I had barely gotten setup before they opened the flood gates. People came drifting by my space. They were mostly lookers but I expected nothing more. The economy sucked and people in the Gulf area were not immune to the high cost of government, and the higher cost of unemployment. The Gulf Coast was suffering except for the executives in the resort areas. Gulfport was fifty miles from a tourist area, so it suffered. I sat with my mp3 player blasting upbeat music through the amplified speakers, and it brightened my mood anyway.

One thing I had going for me was my looks. I should say my lack of good looks. I found that young couples stayed longer than they had before I let myself go. The women, who controlled the discretionary funds, no longer felt threatened. They stayed to browse in the certainty that their husband or boyfriends were not going to embarrass them by hitting on me.

One of the couples brought their five year old son in for a drawing. Just a quick ten dollar one but it was something. I took a quick shot with the camera then suggested they come back in about half an hour. I sat drawing the boy while foot traffic picked up. People stopped to watch me draw. They spoke to me and they browsed through my display. I sold one large and three small pen and ink drawing while I worked on the print.

There was a half hour between the delivery of the little boy drawing and the close of business on day one. The slightly chubby woman arrived around closing time. "I was told you drew stray dogs," she said.

"Who said that?" I asked cautiously.

"An old crippled mountain man," she explained. So she was an envoy of the Church Camp crew.

"Not any more," I said trying to brush her off.

"Then you didn't make this drawing?" she asked showing me the drawing of the dog and road kill.

"Yeah, I made that one," I said. "But it was a long time ago."

"Jeremy said to give you this," she said handing me the plastic box with the name of a crematorium on it. "Jeremy said to tell you that he found him asleep under the cabin and he just didn't wake up."

Of course I teared up, then said, "Tell him I said thank you."

"He also said to tell you that he was holding your job if you ever wanted it," she said then left without an answer.

"Tell him thanks for the ashes, and thanks for the offer, but I won't be back," I said to her back. When she left, I thought about it while looking at the plastic box and I knew that I had told her the truth. I would not be going back.

Like all the other vendors I had packed everything up, but not loaded it onto the truck. The festival was providing a night watchman and the weather was supposed to be dry all weekend. That being the case the only precaution I took was to spread the all purpose tarp over everything. I tied it down before leaving for the night.

I went back to the motel that night after stopping for a heavy carbohydrate dinner. Burgers and fries and even a chocolate milk shake found its way onto my tray. Once in the room I checked to see if there was a wifi signal. Of course there wasn't one in the budget motel. I rested for an hour to give the heavy meal time to settle, then went back to a drive inn restaurant who advertised wifi. I bought a coffee and sat at a booth checking my email.

"Watching porn," the young looking, but middle-aged man asked.

"You wish," I said with a smile. I was surprised that the smile came naturally.

"Yeah, it's a guy thing I guess," he said smiling. "I saw you out at the festival."

"Oh you a visitor, or a vendor?" I asked. "I'm a vendor sort of."

"Oh and what is a sort of vendor?" I asked.

"I own a food caravan," he said.

"I know what a food truck is but I don't think I ever heard of a caravan, unless you mean a camper," I said. I had the British meaning in mind, a camper.

"Not exactly but sort of like that. Instead of a food truck I have three different rolling carts," he said.

"Really that's interesting are they push carts?" I asked.

"Exactly, we roll them around the festivals. One sells hot dogs, one sells ice cream and one sells pastries," he said.

"So you don't really cook anything?" I asked.

"Nothing but the hot dogs and those are just on a gas grill inside the push cart," he said.

"I saw them going around earlier. So what do you carry them around in, a big truck?" I asked.

"Not that big really. It's just a cube van kind of thing. We travel with that, a pickup truck and a small car. It's really the most efficient way to go. If we have a mechanical problem we can load one cart on the pickup and move the equipment that way. It is slow, but we wouldn't miss the show completely."

"The ice cream truck was on a bicycle good humor thing?" I asked.

"Yes that was my son's idea, so it's his business. Wife has the hot dog cart we park it at the entrance. If it has to be moved, I do it. My daughter runs the pastry cart."

"Oh yes the girl with the boobs," I said.

"Oh yes and the soft ass," he said and then laughed.

"Are you guys staying at the motel?" I asked.

"No we are camping. I just came here to pickup burgers for us all," he said.

"Well good luck to you," I said.

"You too, Miss?" He made it a question.

"Martin, Iris Martin," I stated.

"Well Iris, I'm Bobby Joe Dupree," he said.

I stood to leave then asked, "What do you do between shows?"

"A little of this and a little of that," he replied smiling again. He had a very pretty boyish smile. My guess was that his 'this and that' wasn't entirely legal.

"Well it beats having a job I guess," I said.

"Yes it does," he replied. "How are you with puzzles?"

"Terrible," I suggested.

"Too bad," he said. "Well I'm off to the campground with the bag-o-burgers special." Then he was gone leaving me standing in the restaurant dining room.

"What the fuck?" I asked myself. "I guess he is just a kook. Everything doesn't have to be about me and Swamp Dog." I ended the conversation with myself, when my download from an erotic fiction site ended.

As I was packing out my trash from the Burger Barn, I found a schedule of festivals. I recognized it as a print out from the web page where I had searched for southern festivals. I did not print it out, but the place had been filled with vendors from the festival. It had cheap, fatty food and WiFi, why wouldn't it be?

I almost trashed it but decided to keep it instead. Something gnawed at the back of my brain. The only person I knew to be at my table was the food vendor freak, Bobby Joe Dupree. The list could be a message from Bobby Joe, or someone else's trash. On closer examination I noted the small dots by the names of some festivals. Was that what he meant about puzzles? I wondered. I had two more days to find and ask him. I walked to the pickup, then drove back to the motel.

I read the story that I had downloaded in the restaurant. It was all about father-daughter incest. Something about it reminded me of Sam and his estranged daughter. I touched myself remembering the pain he caused me. I also remembered the thrill of that first giant orgasm. It was caused by the pain, the pleasure and the mind fuck that all came together in a mind blowing orgasm. I had experienced smaller but still thrilling orgasms before and after but nothing like Sam. The smaller orgasms had parts of the experience, but no one had ever had it all before Sam. I should also say no one had since either.

 
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