About a million years ago I accompanied my Grandad to the big county fair at Harrodsburg, KY. They had all the usual rides and games and 4H and FFA competitions. Grandad loved to go because they had a horse show and a big dog show for foxhounds.
One day during the fair, Grandad was heading out to the stable area with some friends to look at a horse. He asked me if I wanted to go, or just wander around the rides and games. I opted for the latter. He gave me a pocketful of change and told me to meet him at the dog show when it started. I looked over all the games to see which one had the best prizes. I found one that you operated a little derrick and clamshell inside a plexiglass box. You tried to pick up a toy and drop it down a slot. If you succeeded, you won the little toy.
Well, I saw a pocketknife in amongst the toys. So I tried the game over and over. I was a smart kid, but try as I might I couldn't get the little knife to drop straight. The clamshell seemed to always jerk at the last minute and the pocketknife would bounce clear of the slot. I used up all the nickles Grandad had given me and walked away pretty sad.
Met up with Grandad at the dog show and he immediately knew something was wrong. I explained to him what had happened and that I suspected the whole game was rigged so you couldn't win. He didn't say much, just told me to take him over to the game tent. When we got there he gave me another coin and told me to try again. Same results. Almost. Grandad was in his seventies but still a good man. He politely asked the Gypsy running the game to walk over to where we were standing. When the ne'er-do-well finally came down there, Grandad got a hold of him and spoke softly into his ear. The Gypsy reached right down into the plexiglass box and pulled the little knife out and handed in to me.
Little Kevin has that knife now. It's probably 50 years old by now.
We still don't know exactly what Grandad said to the Gypsy, but apparently he got his attention.
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