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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It’s the beginning of best tinker week! Get up! Let’s go! Wake up! Come on! The rest of the family has already gone! I jump out of bed, excited of course, who will be the fastest? The best at the fix? We dash up to the town square, where lies the tinker contest stage. There are six finalists there, all snappy and sage. Being eight, I do not understand it fully, but there’s my guy, my Uncle Moley. Moley is wearing his usual slob outfit, bibbed overalls, and a plaid shirt that is slit. He gives me a special look, a nod, and a wink. I love him so much, I give him a blink. It would have been a wink if I had been good at those, but I am not, and my uncle knows…. This year we are going to do something new, the mayor said. There are weird boos from some, who are not right in the head. Each tinker will fix one hundred pots and sixteen pans, the annoying booing continues from out in the stands. This is certainly bad sportsmanship, I whisper to my grandpa. Curtains open to reveal the biggest pile of pots and pans I ever saw. We stay and watch for a week and a day, some children are collected and grabbed away. My Uncle Moley is the fastest fixer around, he wins the contest, it is announced all around. The fastest is not always best, two meanies, Big Sully and Tom, two other tinkers grouse. I do not care, longing for some sleep in my own nest, in my bed, which is waiting in my house. Written 12-15-2018 Contest: Tinker, Taylor Sponsor: Julia Ward
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