bite, unbothered by the fresh meat delivery.
I felt my stew creeping up the back of my throat.
“So what do you guys want to do next?” Ulyssa solicited, trying to distract everyone from the disturbing scene.
“Anyone want to try the rides or play some games?” Mitsy asked.
Mitchell started walking us toward the blinking carnival rides, but abruptly changed directions. “Wait. It’s the shooting game. We gotta play.”
I followed him, but only because the funnel cake stand was right next to the rifle range.
Three dollars later, I was blissfully dining on my favorite festival food watching Mitchell, Sam and Ulyssa have a shoot out. They didn’t seem to be doing very well because they played twice and didn’t win a single prize.
“This game is rigged. Nobody can win it,” Ulyssa declared, putting the gun back on the holder.
“No kidding!” Sam echoed her sentiment.
“You know the goal is to hit the target, right? I mean you need at least one to win a prize.” The wrinkled, old man cackled at their frustration. “Want to give it another try? Maybe you’ll hit one this time.”
They ignored his taunts, so he turned his sneer to me.
“How ‘bout you honey? You look sturdy enough to shoot a gun,” the snaggletoothed man provoked, “Or are you worried about putting that funnel cake down?”
I ignored him and continued eating my delicious treat. He probably made most of his money taunting people into playing the game, knowing that most of them wouldn’t be very good with toy guns.
Ulyssa slapped two dollars down on the counter, saying, “She’ll take a turn!”
I groaned.
She’d played right into his little scam and now I’d look like a sellout if I didn’t at least play one game. I handed the rest of my funnel cake to Mitchell with a glare that warned him that it better all be there when I got back. I stepped up to the counter, selecting a gun from the center pedestal. I wedged the butt of the toy against my shoulder and shrugged to make sure it fit snuggly into the pocket. I had never even held a gun before, but this pose seemed natural.
“Lookie here, lookie here! We got a real pro shooting! Come see how it’s done and try your’n luck to win a prize!” he roared to the crowds milling around the park benches, before sticking his hand into a hidden crevice and activating the mechanical deer. “You get ten shots. All you need is 1 hit to earn a prize!”
I tuned his voice out and focused on the hum and clank of the metal deer. I closed my left eye and exhaled.
PING!
A metal deer fell backwards.
Hum. Clank. PING!
Another deer down.
Hum. Clank. PING! And another.
“That’s what I call beginner’s luck,” the old man said trying to interrupt my shooting rhythm.
PING! PING!
Two more deer.
The metal mammals seemed to be accelerating. I adjusted my breathing to match the new speed. PING! PING! PING! PING! PING!
I lowered the gun from my shoulder. “Easy peasy. What did I win?”
“You a member of the NRA?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me. “No ringers allowed.”
“It’s my first time every shooting a gun, even a toy one. It didn’t seem that hard though. What do I win?”
His rotten teeth hid behind pursed lips, as he muttered, “You can pick anything from that top row.”
I looked at the giant animals hanging suspended from the ceiling by little silver hooks and pointed at a giant, pink unicorn with a rainbow mane. “I’d like that one, please.”
He clambered up a step stool and struggled to pull the giant toy down.
I turned to look at my friends who were uncharacteristically quiet. They were standing there with their mouths open, staring at me while the crowd that had gathered around the game started clapping and cheering.
I turned back and snatched my unicorn from the man. Wrapping both arms around it, I gave him a sweet smile and said, “Thanks!”
“What the hell was that? When did you learn to shoot?” Ulyssa asked, acting
I felt my stew creeping up the back of my throat.
“So what do you guys want to do next?” Ulyssa solicited, trying to distract everyone from the disturbing scene.
“Anyone want to try the rides or play some games?” Mitsy asked.
Mitchell started walking us toward the blinking carnival rides, but abruptly changed directions. “Wait. It’s the shooting game. We gotta play.”
I followed him, but only because the funnel cake stand was right next to the rifle range.
Three dollars later, I was blissfully dining on my favorite festival food watching Mitchell, Sam and Ulyssa have a shoot out. They didn’t seem to be doing very well because they played twice and didn’t win a single prize.
“This game is rigged. Nobody can win it,” Ulyssa declared, putting the gun back on the holder.
“No kidding!” Sam echoed her sentiment.
“You know the goal is to hit the target, right? I mean you need at least one to win a prize.” The wrinkled, old man cackled at their frustration. “Want to give it another try? Maybe you’ll hit one this time.”
They ignored his taunts, so he turned his sneer to me.
“How ‘bout you honey? You look sturdy enough to shoot a gun,” the snaggletoothed man provoked, “Or are you worried about putting that funnel cake down?”
I ignored him and continued eating my delicious treat. He probably made most of his money taunting people into playing the game, knowing that most of them wouldn’t be very good with toy guns.
Ulyssa slapped two dollars down on the counter, saying, “She’ll take a turn!”
I groaned.
She’d played right into his little scam and now I’d look like a sellout if I didn’t at least play one game. I handed the rest of my funnel cake to Mitchell with a glare that warned him that it better all be there when I got back. I stepped up to the counter, selecting a gun from the center pedestal. I wedged the butt of the toy against my shoulder and shrugged to make sure it fit snuggly into the pocket. I had never even held a gun before, but this pose seemed natural.
“Lookie here, lookie here! We got a real pro shooting! Come see how it’s done and try your’n luck to win a prize!” he roared to the crowds milling around the park benches, before sticking his hand into a hidden crevice and activating the mechanical deer. “You get ten shots. All you need is 1 hit to earn a prize!”
I tuned his voice out and focused on the hum and clank of the metal deer. I closed my left eye and exhaled.
PING!
A metal deer fell backwards.
Hum. Clank. PING!
Another deer down.
Hum. Clank. PING! And another.
“That’s what I call beginner’s luck,” the old man said trying to interrupt my shooting rhythm.
PING! PING!
Two more deer.
The metal mammals seemed to be accelerating. I adjusted my breathing to match the new speed. PING! PING! PING! PING! PING!
I lowered the gun from my shoulder. “Easy peasy. What did I win?”
“You a member of the NRA?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me. “No ringers allowed.”
“It’s my first time every shooting a gun, even a toy one. It didn’t seem that hard though. What do I win?”
His rotten teeth hid behind pursed lips, as he muttered, “You can pick anything from that top row.”
I looked at the giant animals hanging suspended from the ceiling by little silver hooks and pointed at a giant, pink unicorn with a rainbow mane. “I’d like that one, please.”
He clambered up a step stool and struggled to pull the giant toy down.
I turned to look at my friends who were uncharacteristically quiet. They were standing there with their mouths open, staring at me while the crowd that had gathered around the game started clapping and cheering.
I turned back and snatched my unicorn from the man. Wrapping both arms around it, I gave him a sweet smile and said, “Thanks!”
“What the hell was that? When did you learn to shoot?” Ulyssa asked, acting
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