"Here," said Mrs. Worthington, shoving a bucket of hard candy in one of Dean's hands and a cluster of strung beads in the other. "There's more on the back seat. Smile and toss 'em to the crowd."
Fred explained the beads-she'd gone to Mardi Gras-as he unceremoniously pushed Dean into the rear seat of the open vehicle. "Stand up in back and smile a lot," Fred said as he hopped into the passenger side. Six ladies, all carrying campaign signs, formed an honor guard around the vehicle. A man Dean didn't recognize turned around and shook his hand before starting the old car. Dean grabbed the front seat for balance, nearly losing his beads as they joined the flow. The vehicle, older than Fred, sounded better than Dean's Jeep.
"Best we could do on short notice," Fred yelled over the wailing blast of the fire engine's siren ahead of them. "I shoulda planned on this. Never gave it a thought until Emma mentioned your opponent was all gussied up in flags and balloons."
"I'm impressed," Dean said and he meant it. "I really appreciate everything you all did. I'm overwhelmed-couldn't have asked for more."
"Wait until I get a speeding ticket and I'll remind you," one lady kidded, reminding Dean of his yet unpaid citation.
"Just smile a lot and keep tossing that stuff-especially to the kids whose parents vote," Fred said.
While Dean felt foolish, he couldn't help feeling a tickle of pleasure as hundreds of people clapped and cheered as they passed. He was amazed at the wild scramble prompted by his tossed offerings, especially the beads. You'd have thought they were rare gems, not just plastic baubles costing pennies at most. It wasn't only the children who scampered after the treasures. Dean caught sight of Paulette Dawkins grabbing wildly at a purple contribution.
Water was another commodity enthusiastically offered to the parade-watchers. One of the fire trucks, a few positions ahead of Dean, periodically let go with a squirt to the screech and scream of the victims. Many of the frisky paraders held water pistols and other more potent hydro-arms, squirting the audience, which responded mostly with glee, but often with return fire. A pair of older boys stood atop a corner building with a water cannon, letting lose on the paraders with a stream from their high, seemingly secure position-until the fire truck proved its might by soaking them and their perch, to the delight of the crowd.
The parade marched the length of Main Street, only to reverse itself, ultimately returning to where it had assembled, giving the crowd a double feature and allowing the participants a view of one another. Fitzgerald's entry was a flat trailer, pulled by a Jeep, bedecked with appropriate flags and bunting while a tiny speaker blared America the Beautiful. He stood, in full uniform, waving and tossing candy with abandon. Dean wondered if he'd fortified himself with one of the pints of vodka. But Fitzgerald had no honor guard, and no beads. Dean tossed one-at him, not to him-as he passed. The six ladies-in-waiting of the Dean for Sheriff brigade cupped their hands and booed the competition, to the delight of the crowd.