1962 — September

The Johnson brothers and I leaned against the barbed wire carefully studying a cornfield. Our T-shirts happened to be stuck on the barbs…what else could we do but study that cornfield?  A green pickup truck eased up behind us and suddenly stopped. We were stuck there but didn’t want anyone to notice. So we just kept staring at the field. A deep loud voice called out, “Hey! What are you boys doing?”  “Oh, hahaha, just staring at this beautiful cornfield,” we replied. The guy with the big voice joined us and stated that the field was his. 

Buttface spilled the beans. “We were wondering if we could look for Indian corn since the field is ready for picking.” The farmer chuckled and said, “Sure you can look but I doubt if you can find any because those Corn Monkeys have probably been in there by now.”   

“What the heck are Corn Monkeys? I have never heard of them.”  I asked him very politely also because I didn’t know him. The Farmer told us how he had contacted the folks at National Geographic headquarters and found out information that few people even knew about the special species of five-foot monkeys that ate Indian corn. They traveled only at night and usually rode on top of freight trains. We could see the Santa Fe train from where we were stuck.

The farmer continued to give us the details. “They are very mysterious and once they jump off the top of those freight cars their feet magically turn into deer hooves!” Our mouths were all dried out because they were held open. “They can be mean if they are disturbed. They will hide about five corn rows from a person and jump on the victim then beat the snot out of them!” All we could say was “WOW!”

“But you boys are more than welcome to go on in there and stay as long as you want.” Buttface asked about the green soybean field that was directly in front of that cornfield. “Can we walk through the beans to get to the cornfield?”  As if he was still stupid enough to hang around with Corn Monkeys. He had a bad habit of being stupid. He never could shake it.

The farmer said he didn’t mind at all. Buttface looked relieved until the farmer mentioned something about the bean snakes that were 16 feet long. He called them Bean Boas!!!

“Gee thanks, Mister. I think we’ll just stand here against this fence and admire the beauty of dried-out corn stalks,” I said. The farmer drove away and we ripped our T-Shirts away from the barbed wire and ran straight back to my house to stick the garden hose in our parched mouths. We never told anyone about it except our buddy Mike Bornshier. He broke down later that day and blabbed the whole story to any kid in North Town. My mother had to answer the phone many times the next day. I finally told Mom to call The National Geographic headquarters and get information straight from them. I don’t think she ever did because it was long-distance charges. 

I’m sure thankful that the farmer was kind enough to tell me and the Johnson brothers the inside story. Us guys were expecting the local newspaper to ask us all about it... they never did. Mom was more interested in my ripped apart T-shirt. Buttface and Crusty and I bought some Indian corn from Meyers Produce and it was imported from Alaska we think. No monkeys live way up there. A true story is sometimes hard to believe.

Hug your kids, love your neighbors, and thank God for honest Farmers.