Setting: The young woman and her uncle are waiting for a friend of his to arrival so they can all go fest hopping (visit all the local harvest festivals) .

She found the kitchen full of Germans, all clamoring around her uncle. Some of them she recognized—Heinrich from the train station/post office and the elderly couple who lived across the street. But most of them the young woman had never seen before.

After exchanging happy banter with her uncle and slapping him on the back, they each grabbed either a carton of cigarettes, a tin of coffee, a jar of peanut butter or some other American delicacy before leaving.

“How did you get all this stuff?” She asked, after making her way over to him.

“I saved up unused ration cards from people who’ve been transferred stateside. This stuff is too expensive for my buddies here,” he said, turning to the older woman who lived across the street. “Omie, here, just loves Rocky Road ice cream. Don’t you, Omie.”

Omie grabbed the container he’d pulled from the freezer. “Danke, Oncle Boob!” She smiled and then quickly made her way out the front door as if someone else might be interested in the coveted prize.

“Thanks to you I seem to have a new moniker: Oncle Boob! Makes me sound a bit like the village idiot, doesn’t it?”

The young woman mumbled an apology but couldn’t help but giggle herself. Oncle Boob!

The giveaway lasted about an hour with everyone getting something and everyone leaving happy. The young woman thought it an auspicious start to the day but Oncle Boob did not share her optimism: “Newsome’s going to ruin everything! He was supposed to be here an hour ago.”

He had meticulously drawn out their route on a map of all the local fests that he’d gone to great pains to acquire. Then he’d rated each and every one in case they weren’t able to attain his ultimate goal of visiting them all. The prize being bragging rights at the officers club. A great honor indeed and one which had been his, on many occasions. On his map, the Must Visit fests were circled in red while the Nice to Visits were circled in blue. Each fest was also given a priority level of one through five.

“I’d better reassess my plans,” he complained after another half hour passed. He pulled out the map and began studying his fest-hopping strategy with all the seriousness of a four star general planning a sneak attack against a much better equipped enemy. “The Leusdorf fest will have to be downgraded to a four. It’s too far east. We couldn’t possibly swing back to Klingerbrick and still make Rheinfell. Goddamnit Newsome! It’s almost eleven!”

Just when it looked like her uncle’s assault on Rheinfell was in jeopardy, Charlie Newsome appeared, perched precariously on an antique motor scooter that he could barely handle. “Look what I’m reduced to, Bob. A goddamned motor scooter. I can’t even remember which of the exes left this pile of merde behind on her way out.”

But the Oncle Boob wasn’t in the mood for idle chitchat. The campaign was already an hour behind schedule. “Put that ugly thing around back and get in the damn car,” he said, pulling the front seat of the VW forward.

“In the back? It’s smaller than a shoe box.”

“That’s true but Niecey here has to drive. God help us. She can barely keep the car on the road but, Lou will shoot us both if we get caught driving again.”

“I think he’d consider a firing squad too light a punishment.”