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One Night at the Fun Fair
by Tim Frank He had to just get through that night. He was tripping, at the fun fair, and on a first date. His hands had swelled to the size of anvils and his date, whose name still evaded him, well, her eyes were like goldfish in plastic bags of water – shimmering and bulging. They were at the shooting range and Tony was having problems not shooting the proprietor in his saggy belly that was squeezed into a faded Grateful Dead t-shirt. The owner grabbed the gun away from Tony and aimed it at him; his dragon tattoos jumped and roared, fire gushing from their mouths. Tony’s date threw herself in the way and got a chipped tooth to add to her lopsided grin and hair shaped like a giant ant (which Tony thought about punching to death). They moved on. Tony’s date wanted to go on the helter skelter ride. It towered above them and laughed, as swarms of kids swooped down in sacks and he was scared because the tower was talking to him in Russian. ‘Alright,’ Tony said, ‘but I warn you if things turn ugly I’m going to take you and your ant head down.’ Tony’s date didn’t care. She was easy and Tony knew, even in his disturbed state, that he could cop a feel any time he wanted. Except he didn’t want to. He just wanted to get through the night without the rain turning into fire or the candy floss wrapping around him. Down he went, following his date on the helter skelter ride, her hips a little too wide to fit through the slide, forcing kids to pile up behind them like a sequence of connect four. And then on to the dodgems where he nearly vomited on a pensioner by the side of the platform. Next was the ghost ride where everything became REAL and luminous and not nearly as scary as you’d think but still truly awful as shrieks echoed through the velvet lined walls and Tony got the tremendous urge to write secret messages on his hands that only those who had read his blog would understand. And then things took a turn for the worse. ‘You don’t remember my name,’ his date said tearfully, chewing on an old piece of gum and clutching two bags of goldfish that looked like her face now. ‘Listen ant-head,’ Tony began, ‘I don’t remember my name at the moment. The thing is that I’m on a helluva lot of LSD and things are getting pretty subliminal my end of things, if you know what I mean.’ ‘So you like me?’ she said hopefully. ‘I don’t really know sugarpuff. I mean do you like me?’ ‘Sorta,’ she sniffled, ‘well, you’re a bit odd and that, but otherwise you’re one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever been out with.’ ‘To tell the truth,’ Tony said, ‘I just want to escape this world, this shitty town too. That’s why I’m tripping and why I brought you here, somewhere...different. You understand right?’ Tony’s date smiled. And with that Tony grabbed her breast. She shrieked, dropped the fish and sent them splashing to the turf. ‘My god! Your eyes!’ Tony said, falling to the floor. He grappled with the struggling fish, finally snatching them up into each of his hands, and then he tried to squeeze them into her eye sockets. Tony’s date batted him away and the fish turned to mush in his hands. She ran deep into the funfair as children pointed and laughed and stall owners shook their heads as if they’d seen it all before. ‘Call me!’ yelled Tony, patting himself down, feeling sober and peaceful all of a sudden, ready to go shooting for some more fish and maybe grab some candy floss. It began to rain. |
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