FARMLAND – The carnival midway is a magical place, where the least discerning diners in the world can indulge in delights like fried dough, deep fried junk snacks like Oreos and Twinkies, a quesadilla/gordita hybrid called a machete, and the iconic American fair food: the corn dog. A hot dog on a stick, enveloped in a golden cornmeal breading, and deep-fried to perfection—it’s a culinary delight reserved for the surreal world of carnival festivities.
No reasonable person would be willing to eat a deep fried hot dog in their day to day life. However, the carnival is an exceptional place, where attendees spend money freely on novelty T-shirts and rigged games of skill, and allow themselves to be hurled dozens of feet into the air on rides that are hastily assembled every few weeks by carnies of questionable sobriety, but unimpeachable dedication.
One entrepreneurial carnie, Grace Kearney, has been struggling with increased food prices over the last few years. The proprietor of a stand selling corn dogs and fried dough with a traveling carnival group, she found herself dealing with profit margins that had shrunk to almost zero. Like many savvy business owners, she looked overseas for solutions, ultimately leading her to the contract factories of China, that will build anything you can imagine – for a price.
“I found a website that lets you special order from Chinese factories,” Kearney explains, “and I was pleasantly surprised when they agreed to send me 10,000 corn dogs for the same price I paid in the 90s. I must’ve misplaced a decimal or something, because when the truck arrived, there was only one box!”
That box was more of a kennel, perforated with air holes and soaked with animal waste at the bottom, the reeking package revealed a creature that looked like a Golden Retriever, but it was covered with corn husks! Upon closer inspection, this badly dehydrated dog appeared to be growing the husks out of its skin. After weeks of rehydrating with a dilute plant fertilizer and spending plenty of time in the dirt and sun, it began to sprout silky cobs
“I named him Fructose, after my favorite industrial corn based sweetener, and he’s the sweetest boy. This past summer, he laid a little too close to the campfire and a few of the kernels popped! They were delicious.”
Fructose’s presence drove crowds to Kearney’s stall, where patrons eagerly paid for a snapshot with the corn-coated canine and indulged in Kearney’s signature $8 corn dog and $4 soda combo. However, despite Fructose’s popularity, Kearney found herself unable to source more of his kind. “It seems like the dog scientists over in China took me a little too literally,” she muses. “But they must’ve been executed or something, because I can’t get a hold of them to order a girlfriend for ol’ Fructy. I’m just getting my corndogs from Costco now—it’s a pretty good deal.”
While opinions on Fructose may vary, from awe to incredulity, there’s no denying the impact he’s had on the carnival scene. Some may view him as an abomination that is beyond comprehension, a plant animal hybrid that is a testament to the cruel arrogance of dog science, while others find his corny charm irresistible. Regardless, for Kearney and her fellow carnies, the dog days of summer are going to be fun as shuck.
Stan Dirkson
