If you ever happen to pass through the small town of Glasswood, New Jersey, do yourself
a favor and stop by the local Farmer's Market and pick up an armful of corn.
It's the best damn corn you'll find along the east coast, known not just for its unparalleled
sweetness, but for its unique ruby red hue.
Every ear's covered in crimson kernels, save for a single ivory kernel that's a lot of
fun to search for, like a cylindrical Where's Waldo.
But it's always there; a little unintended idiosyncrasy of the growing process.
Granted, while that white kernel is as edible as the rest of the cob, it's admittedly a
bit hard, so you might wanna toss it away if you're worried about chipping a tooth.
Now, while in town, you're probably gonna hear some rumors which you'd do well to brush
off as the malarky they are.
Glasswood's just a simple farming town and nothing sinister's ever come out of such a
place.
No, there are no "harvest rituals."
That's a lie that frankly serves only to undermine the skill of the town's farmers; they grow
that fine corn with their own bare hands, thank you very much.
And every town in America's got its share of bright-eyed youth with wanderlust and itchy
feet, so don't let the missing children posters put you off.
If there is any oddity about the town, it's that the veggies are so packed with nutrients
that kids grow up a bit quicker than most - so, sure, a few parents might make a big
fuss over a son losing his first tooth, which happens quite often.
It's something of a celebration - a coming-of-age ceremony, one might say - and it's plain silly
to see any harm in that.
In fact, feel free to join in on the evening festivities while the young man in question
is given a traditional tour of the local corn fields.
(Sadly, tours are not given to visitors.)
And remember to ignore the occasional crazy old coot with their cardboard signs and nonsensical
yarns.
You'd have to be off your rocker to give a dime of credence to the absurd idea of "blood
offerings."
Townsfolk have filed multiple complaints against the nuts, but sometimes it can't be helped,
and one or two residents just go a little loony every now and then.
But every town has its local bad seeds, right?
It's just unfortunate that a place like Glasswood - filled with hard workers and the most pleasant
folks you'll ever meet - is plagued with such toxic balderdash.
So it's best to put it all out of your mind should you find yourself in that little town
bordering the Pine Barrens.
And friend, I cannot stress this enough - when you're there, don't forget to show Glasswood's
hard-working farmers a little appreciation by buying yourself a basket of their ripe,
red corn.
Lord knows they sacrifice so much to make it.