Fun with Carnies

As Gilbert's Carnival rolled into town, Watershed Heights drooled with an anticipation that rivaled only the visit of President Nixon twenty years earlier. Visions of cotton candy clouds, popcorn buckets miles deep and corn dogs the color of toasted gold floated in the dreams of every sleeping resident. Blanket Cobb was among the few who awoke with the taste of a bearded woman's kiss in his mouth. He hurried with his morning chores--tending to his bonsai usually took up a large chunk of the day, but he skipped the ancient blessings and ritualistic rituals, and was out the door by noon. There was a spring in his step as he made his way down Main Street, arriving at the gates of Gilbert's Carnival the same time as a bag lady who looked to be from the Old Country.

"Oy. Kushnik," he hissed. "Let me in front of you."

The one-eyed ticket vendor blinked, slowly.

The Kushnik spat on the ground in front of Blanket Cobb's left foot.

"I Spit on your Children," she cursed, then scuttled through the gates and was swallowed up by the crowd.

"How peculiar," Cobb thought to himself, but he was not worried. He had no children.

As Cobb explored the Carnival, he munched on a turkey-flavored Cotton Candy Puff. He listened to the buzz of the crowd, catching snippets of conversation. When he heard "ball pit," "ball pit," and "plastic balls in a pit" all in the same minute, he decided to visit the ball pit. After waiting in line for an hour, Cobb was admitted into a magical gypsy tent.

"SHOES OFF," shouted the Ball Pit Carnie.

Cobb slipped off his calfskin moccasins and entered the pit. Oh, what fun it was to be but a child, rolling around in a toxic cesspool of plastic balls, urine and mysterious, slithering objects! He giggled like a child. He slapped the plastic balls like an excited baby in a high chair. He let the pit hold him, caress him, carry him along like a stick in a stream. It was pure bliss. And then something bit him.