huffy like I’d kept a big secret from her.
“I’ve never used a gun before, but it wasn’t very hard.” I replied, shoving the unicorn towards Mitchell. “Can you hold this for me while I finish my funnel cake?”
“No way! I’m not carrying a giant pink fluffy unicorn around.”
“I’ll hold it,” Mitsy offered. “I think it’s pretty. Pegasus are my favorite animal, but unicorns are my second favorite.” It made sense that she liked mystical creatures since she liked to collect figurines, read science fiction novels and dreamed of going to Dragon Con one day.
“Thanks!” I shoved the animal in her arms. It was almost as tall as she was and I felt a little bad saddling her with it, but I really wanted to finish my deep fried, sugar coated dough.
“I want to go again,” Mitchell demanded, handing the man more money. “She had the good gun!”
Picking up the same gun I used, he played two more rounds without winning a prize before giving up.
The old man continued lobbing insults at him as we walked away. “Good thing you got all them women to protect you since you couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.”
Eventually his voice faded as we strolled along looking at the other games on our way to the rides.
Once there wasn’t someone attacking his manhood, Mitchell relaxed. “That was some good shooting for sure. I won’t be pissing you off!” Mitchell declared, slapping me on the back like we’re part of some elite carnival rifleman’s association.
“Whatever. You don’t have anything to worry about,” I said, dumping my empty paper plate into the trash can and retrieving my unicorn from Mitsy. “We don’t even own Super-soakers.”
All of the game attendants must have attended the same customer service training, because Ulyssa became the next target.
“Step right up and fool the guesser,” A bearded man in a top hat yelled at us. “I’ll guess your weight, age or birthday.”
“Don’t even think about it!” Ulyssa warned him.
“Weight, age or birthday,” he said pointing to the scale behind him and gave her a body scan. “Let’s see how much junk you got in your trunk! 200 if you’re wearing Spanx - 220 if you’re not.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled at him.
“Prove me wrong. Prove me wrong. Step on the scale and prove me wrong.”
Like a gender call-to-arms, all the women took a step toward the guesser.
“Whoa, ladies. I’m just trying to do a job here,” the guesser said, stumbling backwards into his wall of prizes. He twisted sideways trying to stabilize the giant wire frame covered in stuffed animals. His fumbling accelerated the rate of fall and the wall smashed down onto the corral of the nearby pony ride. The crashing noise and dangling fuzzy projectiles startled the Shetland ponies who began galloping in circles looking for an escape from the threat.
The tiny riders clung tightly to the sweat drenched necks of the runaway ponies, while concerned parents sprang to action. The men hopped in the corral and tried to pull the children off the crazed beasts. The women marched toward the guesser like a crazy Transylvanian mob, minus pitch forks and torches. The lack of adult supervision created a unique window of opportunity for the children still waiting in line for a ride. They seized that opportunity and descended on the stuff animal prizes like miniature Barbarian raiders. The guesser could only watch as they pilfered his goods, as he tried to outmaneuver the mom mob.
The delighted shouts of the looting mini-barbarians further confused the ponies, who reared on their hind legs in self defense sending two unlucky riders out of the saddle. Three of the remaining riders were paralyzed by fear and crying, while one dug her heels into the saddle hoping for a longer ride. She was waving her hand in the air yelling, “Yippie Ki Yay . . . ”, when her dad jerked her from the saddle, leaving us to wonder how she would have
“I’ve never used a gun before, but it wasn’t very hard.” I replied, shoving the unicorn towards Mitchell. “Can you hold this for me while I finish my funnel cake?”
“No way! I’m not carrying a giant pink fluffy unicorn around.”
“I’ll hold it,” Mitsy offered. “I think it’s pretty. Pegasus are my favorite animal, but unicorns are my second favorite.” It made sense that she liked mystical creatures since she liked to collect figurines, read science fiction novels and dreamed of going to Dragon Con one day.
“Thanks!” I shoved the animal in her arms. It was almost as tall as she was and I felt a little bad saddling her with it, but I really wanted to finish my deep fried, sugar coated dough.
“I want to go again,” Mitchell demanded, handing the man more money. “She had the good gun!”
Picking up the same gun I used, he played two more rounds without winning a prize before giving up.
The old man continued lobbing insults at him as we walked away. “Good thing you got all them women to protect you since you couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.”
Eventually his voice faded as we strolled along looking at the other games on our way to the rides.
Once there wasn’t someone attacking his manhood, Mitchell relaxed. “That was some good shooting for sure. I won’t be pissing you off!” Mitchell declared, slapping me on the back like we’re part of some elite carnival rifleman’s association.
“Whatever. You don’t have anything to worry about,” I said, dumping my empty paper plate into the trash can and retrieving my unicorn from Mitsy. “We don’t even own Super-soakers.”
All of the game attendants must have attended the same customer service training, because Ulyssa became the next target.
“Step right up and fool the guesser,” A bearded man in a top hat yelled at us. “I’ll guess your weight, age or birthday.”
“Don’t even think about it!” Ulyssa warned him.
“Weight, age or birthday,” he said pointing to the scale behind him and gave her a body scan. “Let’s see how much junk you got in your trunk! 200 if you’re wearing Spanx - 220 if you’re not.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled at him.
“Prove me wrong. Prove me wrong. Step on the scale and prove me wrong.”
Like a gender call-to-arms, all the women took a step toward the guesser.
“Whoa, ladies. I’m just trying to do a job here,” the guesser said, stumbling backwards into his wall of prizes. He twisted sideways trying to stabilize the giant wire frame covered in stuffed animals. His fumbling accelerated the rate of fall and the wall smashed down onto the corral of the nearby pony ride. The crashing noise and dangling fuzzy projectiles startled the Shetland ponies who began galloping in circles looking for an escape from the threat.
The tiny riders clung tightly to the sweat drenched necks of the runaway ponies, while concerned parents sprang to action. The men hopped in the corral and tried to pull the children off the crazed beasts. The women marched toward the guesser like a crazy Transylvanian mob, minus pitch forks and torches. The lack of adult supervision created a unique window of opportunity for the children still waiting in line for a ride. They seized that opportunity and descended on the stuff animal prizes like miniature Barbarian raiders. The guesser could only watch as they pilfered his goods, as he tried to outmaneuver the mom mob.
The delighted shouts of the looting mini-barbarians further confused the ponies, who reared on their hind legs in self defense sending two unlucky riders out of the saddle. Three of the remaining riders were paralyzed by fear and crying, while one dug her heels into the saddle hoping for a longer ride. She was waving her hand in the air yelling, “Yippie Ki Yay . . . ”, when her dad jerked her from the saddle, leaving us to wonder how she would have
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