September 1973

Every summer in the state of Mythissippi, in the town of Tupelo there was a great Fair and Dairy Show. 

Since time began, the One Hundred Acre Boy was taken to the Tupelo Fair and Dairy Show by his parents, the World War Twosome. 

They walked by a tent with carnival art that featured a half-naked girl who turns into a gorilla. She had been brought back from Africa as a goddess, a slave and a freak. Smells and sounds, freaks and frequencies, oozed from the tent as if inside there was a captive beast. 

As day became night, the One Hundred Acre Boy repeatedly asked his father if he could go back to the tent where the girl turns into a gorilla. Finally his father approved. 

The announcer's voice was amplified with reverb. His eerie whisper made the place into a horror movie. He calmed the curiosity seekers who worried needlessly about injury. The bars that would contain the gorilla were made of solid steel. Escape was impossible.

In the boys mind the transformation worked both ways. Why not sell tickets to see the gorilla turn into the girl? That transformation must be so extreme, so beautiful, so immersed in the erotic, that no man could bear to witness that. One Hundred Acre Boy had never seen a naked girl or a gorilla. Both concepts were strange and remotely desirable.

The curtain opened upon this exotic girl on an elevated stage. A savage drum beat began to build. The announcer's voice seemed to match that intensity in which, simultaneously, the girl experienced a nervous breakdown. As if every night, recounting her dark past brought about this change. There was no room for her to sit or stand so she grabbed the bars and began to scream as if possessed, reliving the incredible story of being captured on safari. 

The heart and soul of her problem were unknown.

As the tormented girl's anger reached a climax, the One Hundred Acre Boy saw black hair grow upon her body. Her beautiful face contorted into a primordial mask.  The announcers voice rose to a fever pitch, repeating, again and again, that the bars were made of solid steel. The One Hundred Acre Boy's heart began to pound, as this memory was burned into him for all time.

SNAP! The iron bars disappeared. The beast leaped, fangs wide open, into the crowd. The people turned, screaming, stampeding from inside the tent. The One Hundred Acre Boy held onto his father's hand, running across the tops of people's feet until they were safely outside the tent.

Turning, fearful, out of breath, laughter. 

Then it was over.

But not for her. The One Hundred Acre Boy heard nothing more. Dead silence. How long would it take the gorilla to turn back into a woman? Could she remember what happened? What made her what she was? 

And what did her bedroom look like?

If One Hundred Acre Boy were older, he could search the late night truck stops out on 45 Highway for her. And when he found the gorilla girl, he would ask her all these questions and more, buying her coffee, lighting her cigarettes, waiting for the mood swings.

What a weird way to make a living.

On the way home, in the back seat of his parents WINE/WHITE TOP 1964 PLYMOUTH, the One Hundred Acre Boy realized that within this mad evacuation from the Gorilla Girl Tent, his entire life spent in Mythissippi flashed before his eyes; the ten and a half years that he had lived so far - and the ten and a half years that lay ahead. 

Within this recollection is the fable of Mythissippi. Here is what the One Hundred Acre Boy remembered...