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parks too!” Ulyssa answered.
    “Wow. Imagine visiting a Canadian trailer park,” I continued.
    “You’d have to have passports to go,” Mitsy said, “They’re bout $150 each.”
    “What? $150 dollars?” Mitchell asked. 
    “It’s thousands of miles away. Too far for a road trip in the Pinto,” Ulyssa said patting the dashboard.
    “I would drive a million miles for a date with Shania.”
    “You know she’s married, right?” Ulyssa asked.
    “But she’s been married for almost twenty years. She might be looking for some young blood.”
    “She’s already found some new blood. She got divorced in 2010 cause he was cheating on her with her best friend, some Swiss woman,” Sam retorted.
    “Even better. Now she’s free and needing a shoulder to cry on.”
    “For someone who’s so into her, you really don’t know much about her,” Sam scolded, “After her divorce, she got engaged to her best friend’s ex-husband.”
    “Wait. Her best friend slept with her husband, so she divorced him and married her best friend’s husband?” he asked. 
    “I guess they have rednecks in Switzerland too cause that’s some Jerry Springer stuff,” Mitsy added.
    “Dang. That’s messed up.” I grinned at Ulyssa. “I would never try to steal Johnny away from you.”
    She gave me an evil look. “He is not my boyfriend!” 
    The entire backseat erupted in laughter.
    Ulyssa tapped the brakes, slinging all of us forward and choking me on the seatbelt. “Oops. Thought I saw something in the road.”
    “That sure is a lot of passion for someone you don’t like,” Sam said.
    Ulyssa started swerving the car along the curvy, country road. Everyone started groaning as the granola, manufactured meat and soda started swirling in our stomach.
    “What’s wrong y’all?” She kept exaggerating the turns, making us greener. “I thought you were joking about my love life. Please continue.” 
    I opened my mouth to beg her to stop, “Bletch!”
    “Tell ya what . . . you stop joking about Johnny and I’ll stop swerving.” 
    Everyone nodded.
    We all sat in silence with the windows rolled down for the next twenty minutes trying to calm our stomachs.
    “Look!” Ulyssa pointed to a sign. “We’re almost there.”
    I lifted my head off the cool doorframe just long enough to read the approaching sign. Ten miles to Malington. I laid my head back down into the wind and exhaled in relief. 
    We scrambled out gasping for air before Ulyssa had finished parking the car, but the smell of slow roasting meat didn’t help my swirling innards. I pushed the thought of rotisserie possum from my mind and focused on funnel cakes. 
     
    The sun was twinkling between the clouds, warming my face as we crunched across the gravel. A light breeze snapped the giant ENTRANCE sign taunt against the aluminum poles as we passed into the fairgrounds. Arriving mid-morning was a great idea. We were some of the first people at the festival, so we could amble between the booths without the crowds. 
    The food booths were arranged down the right side, so we chose that route first. The decorations looked like something out of an Appalachian Broadway musical. Each section was designed around a unique roadkill theme. The first tent was decorated with awards from previous cook-offs. We stepped over the mock asphalt littered with vermin and peeked inside the tent.
    “Howdy, there!” A twangy accent greeted us from under a straw hat.
    “Morning!” We responded inhaling the thick scent of spices and unidentifiable meat.
    She chuckled at our flaring nostrils. “It ain’t ready yet. Should be fit to eat after the parade.”
    “Um. What is it?” Mitsy asked.
    She pointed at the chalkboard propped against a reclining, fuzzy black bear.
    BEAR BUTT APPETIZERS
    “Bear butt appetizers?” Mitsy gasped.
    Bletch. Bletch.
    She chuckled, “I reckon this here is your’n first time to the festival.”
    We all nodded.
    “I tell ya what. Why don’t you’ns stop