The Ghost and the McGee Twins

The Turnip Twist

One day, after getting out of the shower and getting dressed, I walked into the living room to watch a movie, only to see Molly, Scratch, and Dad waiting for the mail to come. "What are you doing?" I questioned. "It's here! It's finally here!" Dad exclaimed, running outside to get the mail. "Here she is, Midwest Monthly. I've waited four weeks for this!" "Is that a magazine, like, with staples?" Scratch asked. "You know you can read it way earlier online, right?" Molly asked. "I'm with Dad on this one." I admitted. "I love physical media." "Ha! And miss out on that new magazine smell? I don't think so." Dad replied, sniffing the magazine like it was fresh baked cookies. "And now to find out which town has been named, "Best of the Midwest."" "Ooh! I think Brighton's got a real shot!" Molly exclaimed. "I'm not sure, guys." I said. "There's a whole bunch of great towns in the Midwest." "I'm too nervous. You do it." Dad exhales. "No, I'll do it. No, you do it." "Okay, I'll do it." Molly says, grabbing the magazine. "And the winner is..." "Brighton. Brighton. Brighton." Dad muttered, crossing his fingers. ""Perfektborg. Scandinavian Hospitality in America's Heartland."" Scratch read. "No! Perfektborg wins every time!" Dad cried. "Look! Brighton's not even in here!" "Oh, that's not true, Dad." Molly reassured him. "Brighton's still in the magazine." "Half of Brighton actually." I corrected. "We got cut off." "Hey, it still counts." Molly said. "When did half count?" Scratch asked. "For too long, Brighton has been counted out. But no more!" Dad exclaimed. "The next edition of Midwest Monthly will crown the "Best Fest in the Midwest", and it's going to be Brighton. Who's with me?!" "Ooh! Me!" Molly chanted. "I am! I am!" "Meh, I've got nothing better to do." I agreed. Dad and Molly struggled to do a little handshake, so I grabbed both their hands and made them high five. "McGee's never give up!" They shouted.

Dad, Molly, Scratch, and I went down to Brighton City Hall. Dad gave the Mayor a list of ideas for this festival. "I love it, McGee!" He exclaimed. "Always wanted to take down that smug Perfektborg down a peg or two. Wipe those perfect smiles off their faces!" "All we need is a festival that will draw a crowd." Dad said. "We already have one. Turnip Fest!" The Mayor explained. "Good one!" Dad laughed. "Oh, that wasn't a joke?" "Sure, we haven't been able to fund Turnip Fest in decades, but back in the day, it was a real hit!" The Mayor continued, about to feed his fish. "Right, Goldie? Oh, sorry. Assistant Mayor Goldie?" "Excuse me, Mr Mayor, but we can't beat Perfektborg with turnips!" Dad exclaimed. "Yeah, turnips are just potatoes that went horribly, horribly wrong." Molly shuddered. "And they should only be sold on Sundays!" I added. "I will have no anti-turnip talk in this office, McGee!" The Mayor snapped. "Brighton was built on the back of the mighty turnip! They may not look like much, and they sure don't taste like much, but they're ours! Right, Assistant Mayor Goldie? I knew you would. You're my smartest advisor!"

Once we got back home, Molly came up with a plan to help Dad get Brighton on the map. "Okay, all we gotta do is win Best Fest." Molly recapped. "And that'll bring tourists. And tourists will bring..." "Tourist money!" Dad exclaimed. "Which means more funds to enhappify the town, winning us even more awards!" "Nice usage of enhappify." Molly complimented. "Hi. Reality here." Scratch interrupted, grabbing a pizza from the trash. "You're working with the turnip, which is what you'd get if earwax became a vegetable." "Dude, you eat out of the garbage all the time." I groaned. "You'll basically eat anything at this point." "Except for turnips. No way!" Scratch exclaimed, getting summoned to the Ghost World, with the pizza slice flying in my face. "I'm coming back for that pizza!" "Why me?" I sighed. "One day, Scratch."

While Scratch was gone, Molly suggested that we should make an advertisement for Turnip Fest. And that's what we did. The locals were so excited to promote their businesses to potential tourists. Dad pulled out his laptop to check on the ad. Believe it or not, our ad ended up going viral on the internet. "Guys! We're going viral!" Molly exclaimed. "Our ad worked!" "Dope." I commented. "Yeah. It did." Scratch said, unamused, flopping on the floor.

At the festival, a mixture of locals and tourists were having fun with these turnip-themed activities. I gotta admit, I was surprised with how many people showed up. While walking around the festival, I saw Cleo running up to me. "Amber! Amber! You're not gonna believe this!" Cleo squealed with excitement. "What's up, Cleo?" I greeted. "Check it out! I made some crochet turnips for Turnip Fest!" She exclaimed. "Wow! These are pretty cool." I complimented. "How did you make these so quickly?" "You'd be surprised." Cleo replied. "I timed myself and I crocheted 52 turnips in one hour. I did a total of 416 turnips in eight hours." "So, how many of them have you sold?" I asked. "I bet they're really popular." "Actually, I've only sold four." Cleo sighed. "Turns out tourists like to pretend they're snowballs." "Why don't I help you promote your table?" I suggested. "You would do that?" Cleo asked, pulling me into a hug. "Oh, Amber McGee, you're the best friend a girl could ask for!" "Glad I could help." I said, trying to breathe.

While Molly and Dad were trying to impress Eva Hernandez of Midwest Monthly, I continued to help Cleo promote her table. She taught me a little bit more about crocheting while we made a new sign. To our surprise, Cleo sold more than half of her stock to both locals and tourists in two hours. "Well, we did pretty good on those sales." Cleo stated. "You want to close up shop and watch the turnip get trashed?" "I'm not familiar with this." I replied. "Neither am I." Cleo explained. "But from what my grandmother told me, it's kinda like a giant piñata at a birthday party, only, I think it's filled with turnips instead of candy." "Watching someone humiliate themselves? Count me in!" I exclaimed.

Over at the bandshell, people gathered around for the trashing of the turnip. "Now it's time to... Trash the Turnip!" Dad announced. "Miss Eva Hernandez of Midwest Monthly Magazine, care to start the trashing?" "Don't get me wrong. I love my dad, but I think he's trying a little too hard to get in that magazine." I whispered to Cleo. She chuckled. "Oh! I never get to do anything like this in not-so-Perfektborg." Eva said as Dad blindfolded her. She takes the baseball bat and swings at the turnip a few times and misses. "I think it's too high up." Cleo commented. All of a sudden, the string of the turnip was cut and the piñata rolled over Eva and went all across town, destroying all of the festival tables. "Oh, Scratch. What did you do?" I mumbled quietly. "Scratch?" Cleo asked. Dang it! I said too much! "I, uh, scratch myself when I'm feeling lucky!" I lied. "Okay?" Cleo questioned. That was too close.

A few days have passed and Molly grabbed Dad's computer to look at the magazine online. "See, Dad? Midwest Monthly available at the click of a button." Molly said. "Okay, I will admit this layout is very convenient." Dad admitted. "I still prefer physical media." I commented. "Just click this button and..." Dad said, clicking on the button for the Best Fest, which revealed a picture of the turnip piñata in front of Brighton City Hall. ""Brighton—Wild mess of a Turnip Fest."" I read out loud. ""Perfektborg still best in fest."" Molly hands Dad one of the couch pillows as he shuts his laptop and starts bawling. "Aw... Okay. Yeah. That's alright, Dad. Just let it out." Molly comforted him. "Ooh, a lot of snot." I added, feeling disgusted.