Cameron Tucker's Tales from the Farm Page 1 of 3
Cameron Tucker's tales of growing up on a farm in Missouri.
Cameron: No, okay, not happening. I'm having flashbacks. I don't know if I ever told you this, but when I was kid, I fell into a well.
Mitchell & Cameron: [together] It happened the same day as baby Jessica, but she got all the press.
Cameron: It still stings. Everybody loves a baby, but not one single prayer for a husky teen who's stuck head-first in a well for the better part of an hour.
Claire: So what do you think? Can we turn this into a baseball field?
Cameron: Oh, yeah. No problem. You know, back on the farm, I once turned an acre of corn into a snowflake-shaped maze. It'd still be there if our neighbor Billy Bob Sheinberg hadn't seen it from his crop duster and said it looked like a swastika.
Cameron: All right, Lily, let's go. Okay, how late are we, "goat loose in the house" late or "stubborn cow in the road" late?
Mitchell: You've lived here 12 years. Please use city time.
Mitchell: No, the lengths that we're going to for a stuffed animal. You know, Cam, maybe it's time Lily learned about loss.
Cameron: No, she's 3, and I know. Do you know how many times I had to say good-bye to a furry friend on the farm?
Mitchell: And didn't it make you stronger?
Cameron: Yeah, because I was a growing boy and they were chock-full of protein. But it was still heartbreaking.
Cameron: You know, I'm glad we're doing this again.
Alex: Yeah, I think we just put too much pressure on it the first time.
Cameron: You know, humans aren't the only ones who respond badly to pressure. Did I ever tell you about the day without eggs? It was at the start of the Omelet Days Festival. Up with the sun, I grab my basket, into the hen-house I go. Thirty-four hens, nary an egg. I know, I know. My grandpa said it was the worst case of avian anxiety he'd seen since Pearl Harbor. That's when they had to take the radio out of the coop.
Cameron: [aside to camera] It was a boon year for tomatoes on the farm, or what we're calling Tomatogeddon. So they made an extra-large batch of Tucker's famous, and we're selling it at the Farmers' Market.
Mitchell: Now, when you say "famous"?
Cameron: It's known Missouri-wide. A death-row inmate requested it for his last meal.
Cameron: Okay, well, now our only option is the 9:00 p.m. Fortunately, it's a direct flight into Kansas City and then just a short hop on HamTrak, so...
Alex: Did you just say "Ham"...
Gloria: Ay, please stop driving the car like a snake. It's making me nauseating.
Mitchell: Well, uh, if you want to switch places, there's plenty of room to stretch out back here.
Cameron: Yeah, that's why we traded our old prius in for the new one. You know, bigger family, bigger backseat. You can fit two car seats and a prize-winning pig back there.
Mitchell: Please don't put a pig in the backseat with our children.
Cameron: I'm not being literal. It's a unit of measurement we used on the farm. You know, like, "That bed's a double-pigger."
Mitchell: Or you could just get your head checked so we don't lose you over some stupid fear.
Cameron: Do you know what I went through in that well on October 14, 1987, while the whole world was focused on that media whore Jessica?
Mitchell: She was a baby, but yeah.
Cameron: It was hell. And I would not have survived if those firemen wouldn't have figured out a way to lower my little Aunt Edna into that well and touch my feet and tell me it was gonna be okay and that I wasn't alone.
Cameron: We never needed fake I.D.s on the farm. We figured if a 16-year-old could drive a tractor, he could drink a beer. Not at the same time, of course. It's Missouri, not Texas.
Mitchell: Oh, I missed a call from my dad.
Cameron: Oh, let me guess. Is he calling to cancel? What's his excuse this time?
Mitchell: You know, that's a really mean thing to assume, Cam. I really wish you'd give my dad a break for once.
Cameron: Oh, please. You know Jay doesn't like my dad. He thinks he's some bumpkin from the sticks. Well, I will have you know that Merle Stonewall Tucker is one of the most respected farmers in all of Hell's Hollow, Missouri.
Mitchell: Okay, you're not hearing yourself.
Jay: Biscuits and gravy?
Cameron: Yep, my grandma Bitsy's secret recipe, given to her by her housekeeper Delilah, who raised her and was her best friend. Kind of like "The Help," except Delilah was white, and was actually herself quite the racist.
Cameron: No, that alarm means there's a tornado coming right now.
Mitchell: Oh, God. Well, where's Lily? I hope she's not still out in the field.
Cameron: [shouting] Lil-y-y-y-y!
Mitchell: You can't just call her like a pig!
Mitchell: Okay, this is just a farm thing, not, like, a mall thing.
Cameron: What's that, city voice?
Cameron: Do you feel what's happening here?
Mitchell: I feel pinching.
Cameron: No. I'm the weak link of this super group. They know it and I know it. It's fine when we're all in a big group, but once we're separated from the herd, the hooves come out.
Mitchell: Don't you mean "claws"?
Cameron: Clawed animals don't travel in herds, Mitchell. Packs, flocks, and prides. Why can't we be on a farm? I'd make you all look like such idiots.
Jay: Leave me alone. I'm fine. I've gotta pick up that truck. [groans]
Cameron: I'd be happy to get the truck.
Jay: I don't think so. It's a pretty big truck.
Cameron: Oh. Is it- Is it bigger than the combine I've been driving since I was 12 years old? Or the Windrow tractor with the MacDon header that I drove to and parallel parked at my high school prom? Hmm?
Mitchell: At least something got plowed that night.
Cameron: Heard that!