It smelled like manure, Billy thought, squeezing his nose shut as he gingerly stepped over the puddles of wet mud.  His designer shoes cost more than the entire farm and he was not going to let them get dirty.  In the distance, a dog barked.  Immediately several chickens began clucking their heads off.  The low mooing of a cow only irritated Billy further.  He didn’t graduate from business school only to strike a business deal with a hillbilly.  It was a waste of Billy’s talents.  As far as he was concern, the quickest way to legally make money was all that Billy cared about. Everything else was unimportant.    
            “Mr. Tubbins!”  So glad to meet you!  I’m Doug Jones the 3rd but you can call me Corn.”  The farmer didn’t look like a stereotypical farmer.  In Billy's opinion, Corn looked more like a dwarf straight out of the Lord of the Rings.  He was rather short and stout with a bushy beard  and a patched fedora too big for his head.  He had a voice like a foghorn, however, and his greeting made Billy wince.  
“It’s Tuberville.”
“I know, Mr. Tommy-Jones.”
“Tuberville, please.”
“Yes, Mr. Thompson, I understand completely.”
“As you know, I was sent here to negotiate a deal over your produce and how my company could expediently deliver them to customers.” 
“Ah yes, my corn fields!”
“You do understand that organic food commodities are skyrocketing with consumers?  My company needs these stock portfolios in order to make a profit.”  
“Of course!  Ready for a jaunty on my buggy to explore my farm?”
“I…”
“Let’s go!”  the farmer exclaimed, eagerly grabbing Billy’s hand and dragging him to an ATV that looked as if it fell off the assembly line in 1918.  The steering wheel seemed to have been placed at an angle and apparently someone at the factory thought that green paint looked beautiful when it was completely rusted away.  A swarm of buzzing things came flying out of the chewed upholstery. 
“My old rust bucket,”  The farmer said proudly.  “She may not be a looker, but she’s got what it takes to get places.”  
“But that can only fit one person,” Billy protested.  
“I know!  That’s why I have a trailer for cargo.”  He pointed to a trailer that visibly sagged in a nearby field.  Its left tire seemed to be on fire, like a melting candle burning rubber.
“Is that tire on fire?”
“No, no! It’s not on fire!  It just caught some sparks from the sun, that’s all.”
“Do you have a truck or tractor we could use to see your farm?”  Billy was beginning to seriously doubt this business venture.
“How could I forget?  My tractor is right over there.”  The tractor had paint peeling down the sides and a smattering of black dots all over the bodywork.
“What are those black spots?”
“Those?  Dead bugs.  I scrape ‘em off and make chicken feed with them.”  
“You what?”
“The only good bug is a dead bug.  Didn’t you want to see my farm?”
“I don’t really know.  I came here to negotiate a business deal over your organic produce such as corn and tomatoes.  Now I’m having second thoughts about this venture.”
“Did you say corn?  I love corn!  My gramps, may they rest in peace, planted corn, my dear pop planted corn and I’m the third in our family to plant corn.  It’s the fruit of the earth!  You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, butter it, grill it, bake it, sauté it, steam it.  There’s corn kabobs, corn Creole, corn gumbo, corn and grits, corn and ham, corn and biscuits, corn in a chowder.  Deep-fried corn, pan-fried corn, stir-fried corn.  There’s corn with pineapple, corn with lemons, corn with coconut, peppercorns, corn stew, corn soup, corn salad, corn and potatoes, corn burgers, corn sandwich, and regular ol’ corn on the cob.  That’s about it, I guess.”
“I really should be going now.  I have a business meeting at 2:00.” 
“Didn’t you want to see my corn fields?  C’mon, let’s go!”
As they bounced over the dirt track, Billy felt mud splatter his every cell.  The farmer seemed to be enjoying the experience tremendously, even humming a flat country tune under his breath.  
            “By the way, did you know that I have landmines buried all over my property?”
            “You what?”  
            “Landmines.  The ones that can flip tanks over.”
            “You have anti tank mines on your farm?”
            “Just in case police storm my humble homestead with heavy equipment that could damage my-”
            “Watch out!”
            Daintily trotting across the path was a spotted doe who capered happily while being completely oblivious to the tractor barreling her way.  The farmer instinctively jerked the steering wheel hard to the right and the tires emitted a piercing squeal.    
            The tractor spiraled across the field, crashing into a grimy chassis that bumped a second ATV across the path to where it was blown up spectacularly.  The resulting explosion caused Billy to dive under the dashboard.  The doe looked at where shrapnel was raining from the sky onto a burnt out hulk and immediately sprinted for the bushes.  
            “Oh, I forgot to mention that I had a Claymore planted on this path.”  
            Billy turned slowly to face the farmer who was grinning from ear to ear.  His smile looked strangely like an ear of corn, yellowish and with overlapping teeth.  “You almost got us both killed!  That’s it!  I’m done with this ridiculous affair.”
            Without even bothering to wipe the splashes of mud off his suit, Billy stormed off and headed back towards the front entrance.  He was done with this stupid farm, done with the even more stupid farmer.  Billy’s only reason for coming here was to negotiate a business deal that would never come above water and he nearly got killed for it.  These country bumpkins had no idea of the value of money or time.  He was halfway to the rusted gate when a low hiss startled him. 
            A long, scaly coil of muscle slithered by Billy’s foot.  Its flickering tongue touched his pants, before moving up his leg.
“Help!”
There was no answer but the rasp of the snake moving by Billy’s feet. 
“Please, help me!  I don’t want to die.”
“Relax, Mr. Thompson.  That’s a cottontail adder squatting on your trotters there.  If you don’t fidget, they won’t bite.  Just stay where you are and count to 30.”
“Do what?  Get this snake off of me!”
Sure enough, two black slits were now facing towards Billy’s arm.  The triangular head tilted dangerously to one side.  The snake’s eyes hypnotized Billy.  A swirling veil of darkness descended over his lids and he swayed unsteadily.
Then a meaty hand came hurtling out of nowhere and yanked Billy off his feet.  The snake lunged, its curved fangs slashing through the air at Billy’s hand.  There was a slight tugging sensation at his wrist and his grip on the suitcase slackened, causing it to tumble into a nearby puddle of sludge. 
The snake landed on top of it, its daggers ripping large gashes into the once-pristine leather.  It pulled free and glared with baleful eyes at Billy and the farmer.  Hissing once more, the snake flexed its scales and lunged once more.  This time, the meaty hand intercepted its neck and squeezing it tightly, the farmer tossed the snake onto the suitcase before stomping heavily on it.  As Corn’s boot crushed the snake’s head into the ground, Billy was painfully aware of his documents being destroyed.
“My papers!”
“Forget about the paperwork, Mr. Tuberville!  You’re bleeding like a stuck pig all over my overalls.”
A thin red line of cranberry red dripped from Billy’s wrist.  There were two puncture marks directly on his vein. 
“I’m dying!”
“No you’re not.  Rip off a piece of your jacket.”
“My jacket?”
With a swift motion the farmer ripped a piece of Billy’s impeccable suit and pressed it to the bleeding hand. Crimson splotches immediately appeared on the fabric.
“That…that cost two thousand dollars out of my own pocket!”
“Your life is worth more than two thousand dollars!  Now hold still while I secure this god-danged wound.”
Billy felt his legs go limp and the last thing he saw before he passed out was Corn’s bearded face bunched up in concern. 
The smell of rubbing alcohol woke Billy up.  Through heavy lidded eyes, he saw several nurses standing around him and an IV poking out of his arm.  Amidst the sea of blue-grey tunics, Billy saw a pair of grimy overalls.  Seeing Billy wake, the farmer let out a broad smile.
 “So glad you’re back in the land of sunshine and rainbows, Mr. Templeton.  I was a bit worried that you might have dinner with the moles tonight!  You were as pale as a ghost when I hauled you here.”
“You drove me here?”
“Technically not drove.  It’s more like sped you here on my old rust bucket.  Some cop screeched up to me and asked me why I was going 100 in a 55.  So I said, ‘Officer there’s a man bleeding out on the back of my ATV and if you don’t let us go, he’ll be dead before you can take three steps to write me a ticket.  Well what do you know, he took one look at you, vomited in a nearby ditch and I was able to get here in the nick of time.  Anyways, these hospitals always make me sentimental and I’d better leave you to the professionals, Mr. Tanner.  It’s not my place to be here.  I hope you enjoyed your time on my farm, brief as it was.  Maybe you could stop by sometimes to chat about the Sox vs. the Yankees game this weekend.” 
As Corn left the ward, Billy looked back at his departing figure.  Despite all the ridiculous events that had transpired, the farmer had saved Billy’s life. With a heavy heart, Billy thought about his frustrated outburst and how he had demeaned Corn.  He reflected on how the farmer had gazed mournfully down at his lap when Billy chastised him before slamming the tractor’s door and storming away.  In that moment, Billy knew what to do. 
Back at Corn’s farm, the green husks were starting to pop up from the soil.  The leaves were tender and just beginning to sprout.  Sunlight peeked out from behind the clouds.  It was a good day for farming.  The low hum of a car pulling up to his gates jolted Corn out of his stupor.  It was Billy. 
“Ah, Mr. Timberly!  Glad to see that a little adder wasn’t able to kill you!  I’ve just been planting some of my namesakes.  Would you care for a bowl of fresh kernels?”
“No thanks.  I just realized that I never said thank you for saving my life.”
“It was nothing.  My old gramps taught me how to suck the venom out but seeing as we’re in the 21st century, I figured I would let the medical eggheads fix you up just right.”
“All the same, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your quick response.”  He handed the farmer a sealed manila envelope.  “Seeing as our business deal never really took off when I first came here, I figured that we could renegotiate it.  It’s a gift to return the favor,” Billy said before hugging Corn tightly and driving off. 
Curiously opening up the envelope, the farmer pulled out a little slip of paper.  He squinted to read the words and a broad smile split his face like rows of corn peeling away.