Economists Say Supply Wasn’t the Problem, Just Billy Hoarding Kernels
By Tom Seest
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
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🎤 Audio Overview
Act I – The Price Shock
The Sequatchie Crossing Corn Festival was supposed to be simple: tractors parked along Main Street, fiddle music echoing through the hollow, and the unmistakable smell of buttered popcorn drifting lazily past the churchyard.
But by 10:15 a.m., the price board on the first popcorn stand flipped from $2.00 to $4.50, and the line groaned in unison.
“Now wait just a second,” shouted Boot Barnes, pointing at the chalkboard as if it had personally insulted his granddaddy. “I got in line when it was two dollars. You can’t just go changing the market like it’s Wall Street!”
The vendor, a high schooler with an apron two sizes too big, shrugged nervously.
“Mabel Dean said we have to… adjust with demand.”
Mabel Dean Ashcroft herself appeared moments later, clutching her festival clipboard like it was the Holy Writ.
“It’s called surge pricing, Boot. It keeps the lines moving and balances the market.”
“Balances my foot,” Boot muttered. “It’s highway robbery, but without the highway.”
By the time Boot got his bag, it cost $7.25.
Act II – Billy’s Basement
Meanwhile, two blocks away in his grandmother’s basement, 14-year-old Billy Harper was busy inventorying sacks of popcorn kernels stacked higher than the water heater.
“Thirty-two, thirty-three…” he counted, jotting notes in a spiral notebook. Daisy the hound barked from the window above, having caught wind of his stash.
Billy smirked.
“They think it’s a shortage. It’s not. It’s just me with supply chain management skills.”
His cousin Trixie Jo peeked down the stairs.
“Billy, Mabel Dean’s on the radio saying we’re in an economic corn crisis. Folks are fighting over kettle corn samples.”
“Good,” Billy said, grinning. “That means it’s working.”
He tapped the calculator. “Grandma’s electricity bill’s about to be paid in full… and I might even get me that Xbox.”
Act III – Sheriff Peeler’s Dilemma
Sheriff Peeler was not an economist. He was barely a sheriff, depending on who you asked. When he was called to the festival to “investigate corn fraud,” he found himself standing in the middle of Main Street surrounded by angry parents, sticky kids, and vendors waving empty kettles.
“Sheriff,” said Clovis Strickland, wagging a finger, “this is price gouging, plain and simple. Tennessee law says you can’t do that unless there’s a state of emergency. And far as I can tell, we’re only in a state of butter.”
Peeler tipped his hat back and scratched his head.
“Look, far as I know, it’s not illegal to charge what the market will bear. Unless Billy’s making moonshine out of the corn…”
“Don’t tempt him,” muttered Mabel Dean, scribbling notes furiously.
Just then Daisy barked again, dragging Sheriff Peeler toward Billy’s house.
Act IV – Boot’s Popcorn Revolt
Boot Barnes had decided enough was enough. He staged a sit-in near the kettle corn stand, plopping himself on the pavement with a sign scrawled in marker:
“My Granddaddy Didn’t Pay Surge and Neither Will I!”
Children gathered around him, chanting “Boot! Boot! Boot!” while eating funnel cake dusted with powdered sugar. Boot had already eaten his sign halfway through the protest, butter stains covering the ink.
Sheriff Peeler finally wandered by.
“Boot, you can’t stage a protest in the middle of the street. You’re blocking the funnel cake line.”
“That’s the point,” Boot said, chewing another corner of cardboard. “If they can surge corn, they can surge anything—lemonade, corndogs, even bingo cards.”
“Bingo cards ain’t in season,” Sheriff Peeler replied.
Act V – The Cracker Barrel Panic
By midafternoon, word reached the Cracker Barrel in Dunlap. Their manager, Brenda, gathered her staff in a crisis meeting.
“Listen up. If Sequatchie Crossing gets away with surge-pricing popcorn, what’s next? Surge-pricing biscuits? Surge-pricing rocking chairs?”
“Ma’am,” said a young waiter, “the customers are already asking if we’ve got ‘dynamic cornbread pricing.’ They think it’s a new menu item.”
Brenda slammed her palm on the table.
“We are flat-rate cornbread people, and don’t you forget it. Someone get me a fax number for that town.”
Within the hour, Cracker Barrel had issued a public statement:
“Our cornbread is flat-rate, our biscuits do not surge, and our prices are as steady as your grandma’s knitting.”
Act VI – The Basement Bust
Sheriff Peeler followed Daisy straight to Billy’s basement, where he discovered the corn mountain.
“Billy,” Peeler said sternly, “you’ve single-handedly destabilized the Corn Festival.”
“It’s just economics, Sheriff,” Billy grinned. “I’m providing liquidity.”
“That’s not liquidity,” Peeler said. “That’s hoarding. And it smells like feet in here.”
Billy crossed his arms. “You gonna arrest me for having an entrepreneurial spirit?”
Peeler sighed. “No. But I might make you share with Boot before he starts eating the protest signs off other people’s yards.”
Act VII – The Town Hall Meltdown
By sunset, the town council gathered for an emergency session under the gazebo. Residents filled every bench, waving receipts for $11 popcorn bags like they were holding lottery tickets.
Mabel Dean banged her clipboard.
“This meeting will come to order. We are here to establish a Fair Popcorn Pricing Ordinance.”
“Define fair,” Clovis demanded.
“Not eleven-fifty!” shouted Boot, spraying crumbs.
Billy raised his hand. “Technically, prices reflect demand. That’s Econ 101.”
“You’re fourteen, Billy,” Mabel Dean snapped. “You haven’t even taken Algebra 1.”
Sheriff Peeler raised a finger. “Maybe we compromise. Billy sells his stash back to the vendors at cost plus a handling fee. Then we lock his grandma’s basement for the rest of the festival.”
The motion passed unanimously, though Boot tried to amend it to include “free butter refills for veterans.”
Act VIII – The Firework Finale
By nightfall, the crisis had calmed. Vendors returned to $3 bags, parents wiped butter off their kids’ faces, and the Ferris wheel spun lazily under a starry Sequatchie sky.
As fireworks lit the night, Boot muttered:
“This ain’t the last of surge pricing. Mark my words. Next year it’ll be lemonade, then pie, and before you know it, they’ll be charging by the hymn at church.”
Mabel Dean jotted another note on her clipboard: “Consider lemonade surge pilot program.”
And Billy? He was already texting friends about funnel cake futures.
Epilogue – The Next Crisis
The Dispatch has learned that the morning after, Billy was spotted at Fredonia Builders, asking how much drywall it would take to expand his grandma’s basement.
When asked what he was planning, Billy only smiled and said:
“Next year, I’m going into nacho cheese derivatives.”
Disclaimer
The Sequatchie Crossing Dispatch is a work of satire and fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, prices, or Cracker Barrel policy is purely coincidental. No kernels were harmed in the making of this story—except the ones Daisy sneezed out.
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
Yes, this story was fictional; even the parts that weren’t true. These places? Absolutely real. Stop by, support local, and keep the Wi-Fi away from livestock:
- Dunlap Adventist Christian School
- N-Stitches
- Joyce Houk – LPT Realty
- Hillcrest Farm
- Dunlap Restaurant
- Lookout Mountain Incline Railway
- Tacos El Valle
- Tiger Rock Dunlap
- Animal Sitting by Chloe Holloway
- Heatwave
- Waldemar Design & Machine
- Ms. Teresa’s Gymnastics
- Boo and Bitty’s Campground
- Windmere Apartments
- Dunlap Dental Center
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
Please share this post with your friends, family, or business associates who may want follow the news from Sequatchie Crossing.
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