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Essay on Corn Back Forward

 

 

Corn is everywhere in Indiana.  I mean it’s not literally everywhere, but it covers a lot of the ground in Indiana.  Soybeans too, but who cares about soybeans?  Corn is planted in the spring and harvested in the fall when it becomes dry and looks dead.  I like to eat corn on the cob with butter.  I think canned corn and creamed corn are both gross.  My dad likes to eat corn on the cob too.  Whenever we eat corn on the cob as a family we have to make a lot of it so that my dad doesn’t feel like we forgot how much he loves it.  My dad has a mustache and his mustache looks very funny when he eats corn on the cob because he eats it very fast like his face is a typewriter and the corn is the roll that holds the paper.  One time I saw a map of Indiana that someone made using corn kernels.  I thought to myself, “Damn, that’s pretty accurate.”  In Indiana there is a sexual practice that may or may not be real called “corn-cobbin’.” Corn-cobbin’ is when you use a corn cob in place of a penis or other penetration device.  One time a friend said, “Have you ever corn-cobbed a cat?”  I said, “No.”  Then he laughed like he was Butt-head from the show Beavis and Butt-head.  I’m pretty sure I went home soon after that because it was getting late.  But not before hitting a glow-in-the-dark golf ball into a recently harvested cornfield.  I saw the ball hit the earth.  But I couldn’t find it when I walked into the field to look for it.  I like to imagine that I hit the ball so hard that the earth it hit wasn’t the earth at all but that the golf ball had overcome the horizon, that it was now in orbit far away from Indiana, far away from any cornfield.