Chester FunkelFoot

it was the magical time of the year again
The Traditional mashing of the grapes
Chester had traveled over seas to partake
his love of wine quite apparent
if you stepped within a breath away

It took him a month to save enough money
so he could make the trek in time
He reached a small town
in one of the many smaller large vinyards
in the lower foothills of France
and asked if he could partake
The townspeople loved new people
and took him in
and fed him
and gave him shelter
and naturally
and especially good for chester
they gave him wine

Not wine that he would drink
on thursday nights with his friends
nor the wine he drank with traveling hobo's
on early tuesday mornings in trainyards
nor was it the even close to the best wine he had ever purchased
EVER

This was REAL WINE
And it was divine.

Soon the magical day drew nearer and the whole town
worked together preparing for its arrival
cooking and decorating
and naturally prepping the grapes
Chester helped as well
he helped decorate
and carried bushels of grapes
dumping them into the
large wooden basin
in which they would would be stomped

The townspeople loved him
even though he was an American
and nothing more than a travelling punk
who liked his drink
They loved his help
and helped him learn French
better than all the high school education
and drunken talks with his friend "Pepe"

They accepted him.

Then the day arrived
Chester couldn't even sleep the whole night through
not to mention that he and the rest of the boys his age
stayed up all night drinking
"prepping" for the great stomping extravangaza

The men helped their wives and lovers
remove their shoes and stockings
and helped them in
some of the men threw their wives in the grapes
and everyone laughed
Including the wives
painted with grape juice

The men took off their work shoes
and then their socks and jumped in
Chester unlaced his boots
and threw them aside
and began to jump in

A man with a large curled mustache stopped him
saying something in French
that he didn't understand
A few girls giggled and continued stomping and playing
holding hands and laughing
The man said it again
with a frown apon his face

Chester understood was not being allowed in the grapes
but knew not why
He stood and watched the townspeople
have the time of their life
suddenly and for the first time
ignoring him

The man stood watch
staring at Chester like a criminal
Finally a young boy
came up to chester
and tugged on one of Chester's
chains at his side

"he say your feet are no good"
The boy devilishly grinned
and ran away

Chester was crushed
The grapes got crushed
and chester didn't get to crush them

Chester left a few days later
never to return
he never drank wine again

Now he drinks tequilla
 

(the moral of this story is wash your damn feet boy!)