Fair Warning

The Prude loves to play with words. Take, for example, 'Fair Warning' in a post on the County Fair. She chuckles to herself over the little pun, but in the back of her mind is the niggling idea that she may go overboard someday. If you ever see her drowning in her own metaphors, puns, word plays and (very clean) double entendres, please tell her firmly that you'll rescue her only if she promises to write a disapproving post on Pun Overuse.

Now, without further ado, Part 2 of The Prude Visits the Fair

Itchy Cows are regarded with disapproval. Itches, like yawns, are contagious. After The Prude saw this cow scratching her back with joyous abandon,
she (The Prude) felt itchiness descend on her like the plague. But Prudes do NOT scratch in public.

One doesn't run across young gentlemen playing 2 saxophones simultaneously every day. While The Prude enjoyed the talent and efficiency, she had concerns:

a) the poor boy's lips could stretch beyond the bounds of spring-back-againness, and one day he would find himself unable to firmly get those lips around a straw in his milkshake on his double date.
b) where does this end? Will people start playing 2 violins at a time? 2 harmonicas? 2 bass trombones? 2 CYMBALS???

 When The Prude caught sight of this poor youngster trying to ride the fence bareback, she
could only hope he would eventually realize the health and comfort benefits of:

putting a saddle on that fence before riding off into the sunset.

The flower displays won full approval, tinged only slightly with jealousy

But disapproval came roaring back at the color of the ribbon on this quilt:

What must one do to win a blue ribbon? Sew little bits of the original Constitution in the binding?

 She experienced fear and trepidation when she saw this calf, drinking this much water:

which led to The Prude, realizing it hadn't rained in a long time, giving puddles like this wide berth

County Fairs are enjoyable. The Prude recommends them without hesitation. But to truly experience the Fair, one must walk. A lot. When one isn't skipping and hopping over what are affectionately known as 'cowpies'. (an unfortunate euphemism that ensures The Prude has never partaken in chocolate cream pie)  By the end of the fair my feet hurt, and I was ready to get to the car.
And I couldn't help noticing that while:

The bunny got a ride

and my Bonny got a ride,

and the Blond got a ride,

and even the tractor got a ride,

I had to make my way through the maze of a parking lot to get to my vehicle.



IT JUST ISN'T FAIR.