“Dale, did ya see dat dere earlier?” A man walked up to his friend who was sitting on the ground chewing on a piece of tobacco.

 

The middle-aged man with brown mutton chops turned towards his friend and nodded. “Yea, Harvey, dem weevils been a-destroyin’ all of dem weeds fah us.”

 

“Nah dat dere. Aah’m talkin’ ‘bout dem black rings on our tomatoes. Ya reckon dey gun awful bad?” Harvey grunted and spat out a piece of tobacco before sticking another wad into his mouth.

 

“Aah dunno. Do dey taste gud?” Dale scratched his head as he looked over at their tomato field.

 

The two men were brothers working on their father’s farm. In the past, their grandfather started the farm as a tomato farm to raise food during the last years of the famine. When their father inherited the farm, he switched towards mainly tobacco because of the profitability. He did keep a few tomato fields out of respect for his father-in-law.

 

Now that their father was too old to work in the fields, the two brothers took over the job. The day routinely involved tending with the tobacco fields before spending some time checking on the tomato fields. Today, they were just about to check on the tomato fields when they saw the swarm of weevils.

 

Fearing the worst, the two brothers rushed over with whatever they could lay their hands on. Dale grabbed a rake while Harvey waved around a broom. When they approached the tomato field, they found that the weevils had laid waste to the grass and other weeds intruding in the tomato field. However, strangely enough, the tomatoes were left untouched.

 

It was upon closer inspection that they discovered the small black rings on quite a few of the riper tomatoes. Nevertheless, they chose to ignore it as they were more worried for any damage caused by the pests. Upon seeing none, they left. However, Harvey seemed to be having second thoughts.

 

“Aah haven’t tried dem yit. Should Aah go take a bite?” Harvey chewed like his life depended on it.

 

“Ya can if ya want.” Dale shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

 

“Aight! Aah’ll go take a bite.” Harvey made up his mind and spat out the wad of tobacco in his mouth.

 

The young man in his mid-twenties patted himself before making his way towards the tomato field. He plucked one of the tomatoes and brought it close to his face. With a sniff, he wrinkled his nose. Something seemed off. The tomato didn’t smell right.

 

He turned toward his older brother and hollered. “Dale! Dis tomato ain’t smellin’ right!”

 

“Whaddya mean? Ya sure ya ain’t smelling dem cow shit?” Dale roared back as he walked over.

 

“Aah know what Aah smell and Aah know dis ain’t ole Beth’s shit!” Harvey reasoned as he held the tomato up for Dale. “Here, ya take a whiff.”

 

Dale leaned over and smelled the tomato. Sure enough, there was an odd stink to it. But, it was that prominent and Dale did remember using manure as fertilizer earlier this week. He believed that what he was smelling could have been a residue smell left from the manure.

 

Dale looked up at his younger brother and grunted. “It shouldn’t be dat bad. Aah bet it’s from the shit Aah dumped here days ago.”

 

“Really?” Harvey raised an eyebrow at his sibling.

 

“Aah’ll be a monkey’s uncle if Aah’m wrong.” Dale swore.

 

Taking his word for it, Harvey took a bite out of the tomato…and vomited it out. “Blargh! Ya monkey’s uncle! Dat dere taste like ole pop’s smelly feet!”

 

“R-Really? Ya nah pullin’ mah leg?” Dale glanced at his coughing brother suspiciously.

 

 “Here, have a taste.” Harvey wiped his mouth with his sleeve before bringing up the tomato.

 

Dale looked at the tomato and grimaced. “Nah, Aah’m gud.”

 

Harvey threw the tomato down and stomped it to pulp with his dirt-ridden boots. “Ya reckon ever’ one of dem taste awful bad?”

 

“Maybe…it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Dale stared at the squashed tomato, lost in thought.

 

“Aah don’t know. Dis is the last tomato field. And it’s grandpop’s favorite field. What should we do?” Harvey skid his boot across the grass a couple of times to get rid of the tomato juice.

 

Dale removed his straw hat and wiped his sweaty forehead. “Aah hear the Farmer Hero is visitin’ the city tomorrow. Maybe we could ask him fah help?”

 

“Ya think the hero would help us?” Harvey asked in surprise. He thought that the Farmer Hero would have better things to do than to help them.

 

“Aah don’t know. Maybe. He is the hero. Dat’s what heroes do, right?” Dale looked up with a sigh. “If only the Saint was still here. He’d help us.”

 

“Hush!” Harvey covered Dale’s mouth while looking about for eavesdroppers. “The Saint is a criminal. Ever’one knows dat. Don’t say such things or people’ll think ya an accomplice.”

 

Dale peevishly removed Harvey’s hand. “Aah know dat! But Aah also know the Saint was framed. Aah still can’t believe other people thought he was evil.”

 

Harvey shook his head at the words. “Aah can’t either, but what can we do? The past is the past and what’s done is done.”

 

Dale sighed deeply before heading back to the house. “Ya right. Dere’s nahthing we could do. Let’s go ask the Farmer Hero tomorrow anyways. Who knows, maybe he will help us.

 

“Aah hope so.” Harvey murmured in reply as he followed Dale back.