The girls chose the fair, and they’re feeling ornery. I dare any dirty hawker to tell T that she’s not tall enough for their ride today. The child scares me sometimes, when she gets that look in her eyes like she just ate a can of fury.
I can picture the mayhem now, and it pleases me, because I love keeping carnies on their toes. You just know those vermin are rising from a drug/alcohol induced slumber and can’t really handle shit like a real person. I want to see kids puking in the seats of the Teacups and the Strawberries by 11:00, and if someone could shit themselves on the Gravitron before noon, that would be spectacular.
That’s when the bastards start coming out of their meth haze and start the harassment of the passersby. I like it when they try to goad me into playing by insinuating that I can’t win at their game. I usually counter with “Yeah? Well at least I win at life.”, then I strut away laughing maniacally towards the street meat and deep fried Mars bars.
Sweet baby Jebus in a manger, I love those five dollar bundles of ecstasy, sooo rich with nutrition. I’m kind of wanting to try the deep fried Coke too, but I don’t think it’s made it to the southern Ontario fair circuit yet. I do know that the tooth cracking pull taffy is there, and that’s good enough for this hillbilly.
Take the high road,