The White Trolley Tour

In the heart of Mississippi, the historic city of Corinth hummed with excitement. Anticipation of the annual Slugfest electrified the air. Word of mouth transformed it from its quirky origins to a regional spectacle. Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, heralding the arrival of the Slugfest. Visitors were enticed by the tantalizing invitation of the wafting smell of fried goodness in the air as they traveled from far and wide.

Amidst a kaleidoscope of laughter and smells, the carnival was in full swing. Standing in contrast to the backdrop of ancient oaks, the Ferris wheel’s metal frame creaked rhythmically. Children squealed with delight as they rode the merry-go-round, their sticky fingers clutching at the brass poles. Grandfathers whittled on the lawn of the century-old courthouse lawn. Smells of sweet cotton candy danced with the tang of BBQ smoke, creating an olfactory symphony that was Slugfest.

Veteran and eager amateur slugburger-eating contestants were already at their tables. Despite being born with a peculiar name, it wasn’t a celebration of slimy mollusks. The name was a tribute to the slugburger, a local delicacy that originated during the lean years of the 1920s. Back then, a nickel was called a “slug,” the price paid for a burger. Made of ground pork and soy meal filler, it became a thrifty way to feed families when money was scarce. What started as a necessity has since turned into a cherished tradition, drawing crowds from across the South to compete in eating contests and enjoy a bit of Corinth’s quirky charm.

The organizers, Betty and Bob Jenkins, bustled around the stage. With her hair tied back in a tight bun, Betty clutched a clipboard to her chest. Bob was busy setting up the podium, ensuring every detail was perfect for the event he had championed for decades.

With the beginning soon to come, the atmosphere grew thick with anticipation. The emcee, a local radio personality known for his dramatic flair, took the microphone with a flourish. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” he announced, his voice booming over the chatter, “Welcome to the main event of the 35th annual Slugfest—the Slugburger Eating Contest!” 

Cheers erupted. “We have a treat for you today. Larry “The Legend” Leftover is determined to reclaim the slug title this year. Standing in his way is a rail-thin young lady with a shockingly voracious appetite, Bobbi “The Beast” Branson. There’s a new kid on the eating circuit today as we welcome Steve “Snacktime” Samore. Not much is known about him, but that may change after today.” 

While Larry flexed his muscles, Bobbi, the 100-pound-soaking-wet underdog, gave a shy smile and a wave to her supporters. The organizers anticipated that this year’s festival would be one of history's best. As the contestants took their places, the smell of deep-fried slugburgers filled the air, and the aroma was as tantalizing as it was peculiar. The crowd leaned in. Ready to cheer and gasp in amazement at the sheer volume of food these contestants would consume.

The emcee’s hand hovered over the buzzer, and the contestants readied their plates. As his voice rose in pitch, he called out, “On your marks.” “Get set.” The crowd grew silent, the only sound being the distant laughter of children on the carousel. “Go!” the buzzer blared, and the contest was underway. Competing intensely, Bobbi and Larry had the crowd cheering and the air reverberating with the sounds of the contest. The race was on, and it was anyone’s game.

The roar of the crowd came in full bloom as Bobbi unveiled her technique. After removing the bun, she dipped it in water and swallowed it whole. Various contestants chowed down, and “The Legend” simply ripped the burger in half and shoved the halves in. 

Steve “Snacktime” Samore was seen moving away from the stage. Unbeknownst to the revelers, he had earlier been in Borroum’s Drug Store, where he had slipped a syringe in while the meat for the eating contest was being prepared. The syringe had gone unnoticed until Hans, a keen-eyed German tourist, spotted it during the White Trolley Tour.

The festival’s atmosphere turned to one of panic and suspicion. Now, the discovery of the syringe has a darker meaning. It became evident that the syringe found its way to Borroum’s Drug Store through Steve. 

Larry wiped the sweat from his brow, but as the next slugburger neared his mouth, his hand shook uncontrollably. A look of confusion crossed his face, followed by panic. His mouth opened as if to shout, but no sound came out before he slumped forward onto the table.The crowd’s cheers morphed into gasps of horror when Larry’s face drained of color, his eyes bulged, and he clutched his throat. With a clatter, his plate of uneaten slugburgers toppled over onto the ground. Panic ensued as people jumped to their feet, knocking over chairs to get closer to the fallen champion. Betty and Bob rushed onto the stage. Their faces were masks of shock and concern. The air grew thick with tension, with the laughter and music of the carnival fading into the background as the gravity of the situation set in.

Bobbi stared at Larry. Confusion filled her eyes. Her presence diverted the crowd’s attention away from the fallen man, causing whispers of suspicion to swirl like a tornado of accusations. The emcee, with a shaky voice, called for a doctor, while the organizers’ faces revealed the grim story—Larry “The Legend” Leftover had passed away. With the contest halted, the atmosphere at the Slugfest shifted from jovial to somber in a heartbeat—or for the lack of a heartbeat. 

The local sheriff, Sam Wallace, pushed through the horrified onlookers. As the EMTs arrived, he quickly secured the area. People pointed at Bobbi, who looked like she had seen a ghost. 

A lady whispered, “Didn’t you see her?” 

“She was so calm,” another exclaimed. 

“It’s gotta' be the newcomer,” a man’s gruff voice rang out. 

“What was she even doing in the contest?” another voice chimed. 

Knowing she had become the prime suspect caused her heart to thrum in her ears, deafening her. She was near Larry just before his dramatic collapse. So were others. The full brunt of the town’s scrutiny was on her bony shoulders. She found herself at the center of a tragedy. 

Bobbi’s heart raced. How could this happen to her? All she wanted was to blend in, to enjoy the festival like everyone else. Now she stood in the eye of the storm, every gaze sharpening into a blade of suspicion. Her mouth went dry as she watched the sheriff's approach.

The festival seemed indifferent to the tragedy unfolding. Children’s laughter rang out, oblivious to the tragedy that lurked in the heart of the festival. The cheerful tune of the carousel echoed like a taunting refrain, oblivious to the life that had slipped away nearby. Longing for a moment of escape, Bobbi’s eyes darted toward the White Trolley parked just at the edge of the festival. She remembered her mom mentioning how the trolley tour had been her favorite part of Slugfest. Maybe the trolley tour could offer her the space to breathe—to think—away from the sharp stares. 

The White Trolley, a beloved symbol of Corinth’s charm, gracefully rolled down the street. The trolley’s whimsical bell tolled, ding-ting, ding-ting, ding-ting. 

As the trolley rattled down the streets, the tour guide’s voice crackled to life over the speakers. "On your left, folks, you’ll see the historic Market Square, known for its eclectic shops and original architecture. Many of the buildings here date back to the 1800s. Borroum’s, which you’ll see later, has four-brick-thick walls.”

Hans gazed, captivated by the mosaic of colors—artists painting and musicians strumming guitars. The air was filled with the scent of roasted coffee beans and the salty tang of street food. He leaned forward, the city unfolding before him in a swirl of sights and sounds, each corner offering something new.

A group of passengers near the front of the trolley began snapping photos, their cameras clicking as they captured the intricate ironwork on the balconies above. "Look at that old church," one of them pointed out, her voice brimming with excitement. The Fillmore Street Chapel, Corinth’s oldest church, a towering structure loomed over the trolley. Thousands of weathered red bricks bleed through the whitewash creating an eerie image. 

Hans felt a sudden breeze through the open-air trolley offering a reprieve from the oppressive humidity. Bobbi felt unease as she watched the carefree tourists, their laughter contrasting sharply with her emotions.

As the trolley rolled past the majestic church, one passenger, a middle-aged woman with a worn camera slung around her neck, gasped quietly. Her eyes widened, brimming with tears she quickly wiped away, embarrassed by the sudden swell of emotion. It’s even more beautiful than I imagined. The grandeur of the place stirred something deep within her.

The trolley rolled away again. The air was filled with rich aromas of spices released by Dilworth’s Tamales. Tourists devoured samples of the famous Delta-style tamales, the only menu item for over 60 years. Bobbi watched from her seat near the back, shaking off the heaviness in her chest. How did I get into this mess?

The trolley rolled away. Bobbi overheard some tourists chatting about the slugburgers they had eaten earlier at Abe’s Grill. The vintage car tags caught their attention, causing their cameras to flash like paparazzi at a celebrity sighting. Bobbi’s mind was elsewhere.

Hans, a sharp-eyed tourist sitting ahead of Bobbi, appeared to take in more than just the sights. Hans, fascinated by local history and the story of the slugburger, couldn't resist delving into the festival's origins during the White Trolley Tour. 

The White Trolley reached the climax of the tour at a quiet street corner downtown. Borroum’s Drug Store and Soda Fountain is the oldest family-run drug store in the nation. 

Borroum’s, with its offering of a free museum, is filled with conversation starters. Today there is standing room only. The napkin, being discarded, fluttered in the breeze and caught his eye. There, half-hidden under the stool in a discarded napkin. Hans, curious as ever, picked it up. Why is such a thing here? The napkin had a syringe wrapped inside. When he found the syringe, his instincts kicked in—a remnant of his years working as a detective in Germany.

As the trolley continued, Hans couldn’t shake the connection that was forming in his mind. The syringe. The eating contest. Larry’s sudden collapse. The thought, making his stomach turn, made him uneasy. Patiently, he kept his findings to himself, waiting for the trolley to return to the festival grounds.

After the trolley finally rumbled back to its starting point at Slugfest, Hans took a deep breath and approached the guide. With a low and urgent voice, he said, “I found something.” “Something that might explain what happened to Larry.” The guide’s expression grew serious, and together, they decided to alert the authorities.

The tension grew palpable when Sheriff Wallace escorted Bobbi away. Earlier, after a sea of merriment, the crowd buzzed with shock and suspicion. The remaining contestants looked on in disbelief, their appetites forgotten, as whispers of foul play swept through the air like wildfire.

Hans and the tour guide, Vivian, made their way to the main stage. The sheriff’s eyes widened as he took the evidence. His mind raced with new possibilities. The murmurs of the crowd grew to a roar as Bobbi was released. Like a tide shifting, the suspicion left her to glam onto another suspect. The Slugfest, once a fortress of goodwill and camaraderie, had become a stage for a darker tale. A stain will leave its mark on the city of Corinth for years to come.

The investigation grew more intense. Sheriff Wallace, a man known for his fairness and thoroughness, interviewed each contestant and eyewitness. The local authorities, though small, were known for their tenacity and dedication. They combed through the area. Collecting any shred of evidence that might shed light on the macabre incident is their priority. The festivities continued around them. Solving a murder created a macabre backdrop. The rides spun on while the music played, but the heart of Slugfest had been pierced, and the town felt it severely.

Freed from suspicion, Bobbi decided to investigate Steve herself. She learned he had shown up in town a few weeks prior. Using the guise of a food critic who is writing an article on the iconic slugburger, his knowledge of the dish was extraordinary. 

With the tenacity of a woman fighting for her reputation, Bobbi made her way towards Steve’s trailer and knocked tentatively. He answered, and she noticed his eyes darted nervously before settling on her. Steve's smile faltered as Bobbi confronted him. His hands trembled slightly before he crossed his arms, trying to keep his voice steady. "You don't know what you're talking about," he hissed. But the flicker of fear in his eyes told Bobbi otherwise.

Her heart thrummed in her ears. Despite the tremble in her hands, she said, her voice steady, “I know something’s not right. What are you hiding?”

As Steve’s facade cracked, revealing the desperation beneath, the air between them grew thick with tension. He had come to Slugfest with a vendetta, a twisted plan to ruin the very thing that had brought his family to ruin during the Great Depression. “My great-grandfather, Thrasher Willis, had been a chef at the Majestic Magnolia Bistro. A desperately hungry man sat at a table but didn’t have enough money to eat there.

Having created a beefless patty mix, my great-grandfather deep-fried it and then served it to the man. The man liked it so much he ordered one to take home.”

Thrasher’s culinary talents took a back seat to the meteoric popularity of the slugburger. Steve, in an attempt to discredit the festival, had concocted a scheme to taint the town’s beloved dish. He hoped to claim the culinary legacy he thought was his. Credit for creating the slugburger must be given to Thrasher  

Bobbi emerged from the trailer, causing the crowd to part. She held up the syringe filled with a clear liquid, the evidence of Steve’s sabotage gleaming in the carnival lights. The townsfolk gasped as the truth unfolded before them. As he read Steve's rights, the sheriff’s face remained stoic, taking him into custody. 

An evil plot had been uncovered. Bobbi became the new heartbeat of the festival, and she brought a new energy. The festival that transformed a simple meat patty into a symbol of Corinth’s resilience and creativity thrived. 

The memory of Larry stayed, reminding us of how fragile life is and how strong the human spirit can be. The townspeople gathered around the stage, their faces etched with a newfound respect for Bobbi. Her mother, watching from the sidelines, beamed with pride. The competitors, once rivals, now share a bond forged in the fire of adversity. 

When the final slugburger was consumed, the crowd and tourists filed out. The festival had faced its darkest hour and emerged stronger, a testament to the enduring spirit of a town that had survived wars, depressions, and now, a murder most foul. Slugfest would go on, a symbol of unity and a celebration of the peculiar charm that made Corinth a place unlike any other. Earlier, a silent witness to the drama, The White Trolley, now rolled the streets, its bell chiming a more hopeful tune. Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling. 

Hans weaved through the crowd with a searching gaze until he found Bobbi, surrounded by well-wishers. Speaking with a thick but earnest German accent, he introduced himself. “I’m Hans. I found the syringe. I want to thank you for saving the town’s tradition. This is the most exciting holiday I’ve ever had.”

As Bobbi looked up at him, her eyes were filled with unshed tears. She was barely audible over the noise of the festival. “You saved more than a contest tonight.”

Hans nodded. “It was nothing. I knew something was wrong.”

The tension between Bobbi and Steve grew palpable as he was led away in handcuffs. Investigating Steve’s motives revealed a tangled web of bitterness and deceit that spanned generations. His smug grin had vanished, replaced by a look of pure hatred. This isn’t over. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I’ll destroy this town.”

Larry was a man who had been more than just a contestant. Experiencing a level of unity not seen in decades, the community mourned him as a symbol of their heritage. A feeling of renewal emerged. The town rallied around Bobbi, the quiet girl who had stood up to a monster and emerged victorious. 

Betty and Bob held a press conference, their faces showing a mix of grief and resolve. They spoke of Larry’s legacy and the town’s commitment to honoring it. They vowed to keep the festival alive and to let the light of unity shine through the cracks of the tragedy. Bobbi stood beside them. 

“We won’t let this ruin us,” Betty declared, her voice strong and clear. “We are Corinthians, and we are made of tougher stuff.”

The crowd cheered, their spirits lifting with every word. The sun set on the last day of Slugfest, and the lights of the carnival glowed like stars. Bobbi looked around at the faces of her friends and neighbors, and she knew that together they could overcome anything. Corinth would heal, with Slugfest living on, a testament to the power of tradition, the strength of community, and the enduring spirit of the human heart.

The White Trolley lived out the rest of its existence as a converted diner named The White Trolley Café. Corinth City Council members raised funds to replace the trolley with two modern trolleys. Future trolley passengers wouldn’t be subjected to the debilitating humidity of an open-air trolley car. The new trolley cars welcomed all Slugfest visitors and tourists with their plush seating and air conditioning.