finished that statement.
Exhausted from the excitement, the ponies slowed to a cautious cantor which allowed the men to retrieve the remaining children. The happy reunions distracted the irate parents enough for the guesser to mysteriously disappear.
“Wow! That was a good dose of karma!” Ulyssa commented smugly.
Sam grinned her agreement, “I’m surprised he made it out of there alive.”
“Do you think those ponies will be traumatized?” Mitsy said, furrowing her eyebrows.
“I’m sure they’ll be okay. They’ll probably get some extra oats for dinner since they worked so hard today,” I consoled her.
Mitchell had already lost interest in the conversation and stopped to watch people trying to land rubber frogs onto lily pads in the middle of a pond. “I wonder how they came up with the idea of frog tossing. Why frogs? Just doesn’t make much sense to me.”
“What’s up with all these games that are cruel to animals? Shooting deer. Throwing frogs,” Mitsy asked, looking around the group for validation. “Don’t you think it sends the wrong message to people? That animal cruelty is okay?”
“They’re just games. I think cruel people are cruel and it don’t take a game to prove that,” Sam challenged her.
Oblivious to Mitsy’s distress, Mitchell led us directly towards one of the worst animal abuse games. “Hey. Whack-a-mole! We gotta try it!”
He handed the girl behind the counter some money and turned toward us to see if we were watching. The whole movement was very bizarre. It looked like he was trying to imitate one of those bodybuilders. He held the club in his right hand, flexing his right bicep while pointing his left hand in our direction.
Oblivious to his attempts to impress her, the girl behind the counter started the game. Mole heads started popping up behind him like little brown ninjas. He spun around and started banging the padded hammer head again the holes trying to catch the moles. After a few minutes the music faded away signaling the end of the game.
“Here’s your prize,” the girl said, laying a plastic harmonica on the counter. “Do you want to try again for a bigger prize?”
“Sure,” he said, handing her another $5 bill. She pressed a hidden button and the brown ninjas reappeared. After a few minutes of work, he earned a plastic kazoo to go with his harmonica. “I’m done with this. I just spent $10 to win two crappy prizes.”
It’s payback time.
“It’s your turn, Ulyssa. My treat,” I said, paying for the game, giving her a smile. “You need to get rid of some of that rage.”
Sam, Mitchell and Mitsy stepped back. They clearly agreed with me about Ulyssa’s rage.
“Whatever,” she replied, picking up the club. “This game is stupid.”
The bored attendant started the game and Ulyssa swung into motion.
Pop. WHACK!
Pop. WHACK!
Pop. WHACK!
Pop. WHACK!
Pop. WHACK!
Holy crap. When did she grab the other hammer? We watched in amazement as she wielded both hammers like an ancient Viking Princess. As the music faded, she slammed the hammers crushing two moles before returning them to their holster.
She ran the back of her hand across her forehead to wipe off the light beads of sweat.
“Wow! That felt good!”
The attendant used a long stick to get one of the Tweety birds down handing it over to Ulyssa. “Here ya go. You’re pretty good. I only ever saw one person use both clubs like that before. Some guy up in New York.”
“If I give you $5, would you win one for me?” Mitsy asked, handing Ulyssa her money. “I want a giant stuffed animal.”
“I’ll try. I can’t promise anything.”
Ulyssa handed the money to the girl and grabbed her Viking hammers. She made quick work of the moles again without missing a single one. Mitsy squealed and grabbed the stuffed animal. I guess this made up for the violence of pummeling some animals.
The annoyed attendant glared at Ulyssa saying, “That’s your last
Exhausted from the excitement, the ponies slowed to a cautious cantor which allowed the men to retrieve the remaining children. The happy reunions distracted the irate parents enough for the guesser to mysteriously disappear.
“Wow! That was a good dose of karma!” Ulyssa commented smugly.
Sam grinned her agreement, “I’m surprised he made it out of there alive.”
“Do you think those ponies will be traumatized?” Mitsy said, furrowing her eyebrows.
“I’m sure they’ll be okay. They’ll probably get some extra oats for dinner since they worked so hard today,” I consoled her.
Mitchell had already lost interest in the conversation and stopped to watch people trying to land rubber frogs onto lily pads in the middle of a pond. “I wonder how they came up with the idea of frog tossing. Why frogs? Just doesn’t make much sense to me.”
“What’s up with all these games that are cruel to animals? Shooting deer. Throwing frogs,” Mitsy asked, looking around the group for validation. “Don’t you think it sends the wrong message to people? That animal cruelty is okay?”
“They’re just games. I think cruel people are cruel and it don’t take a game to prove that,” Sam challenged her.
Oblivious to Mitsy’s distress, Mitchell led us directly towards one of the worst animal abuse games. “Hey. Whack-a-mole! We gotta try it!”
He handed the girl behind the counter some money and turned toward us to see if we were watching. The whole movement was very bizarre. It looked like he was trying to imitate one of those bodybuilders. He held the club in his right hand, flexing his right bicep while pointing his left hand in our direction.
Oblivious to his attempts to impress her, the girl behind the counter started the game. Mole heads started popping up behind him like little brown ninjas. He spun around and started banging the padded hammer head again the holes trying to catch the moles. After a few minutes the music faded away signaling the end of the game.
“Here’s your prize,” the girl said, laying a plastic harmonica on the counter. “Do you want to try again for a bigger prize?”
“Sure,” he said, handing her another $5 bill. She pressed a hidden button and the brown ninjas reappeared. After a few minutes of work, he earned a plastic kazoo to go with his harmonica. “I’m done with this. I just spent $10 to win two crappy prizes.”
It’s payback time.
“It’s your turn, Ulyssa. My treat,” I said, paying for the game, giving her a smile. “You need to get rid of some of that rage.”
Sam, Mitchell and Mitsy stepped back. They clearly agreed with me about Ulyssa’s rage.
“Whatever,” she replied, picking up the club. “This game is stupid.”
The bored attendant started the game and Ulyssa swung into motion.
Pop. WHACK!
Pop. WHACK!
Pop. WHACK!
Pop. WHACK!
Pop. WHACK!
Holy crap. When did she grab the other hammer? We watched in amazement as she wielded both hammers like an ancient Viking Princess. As the music faded, she slammed the hammers crushing two moles before returning them to their holster.
She ran the back of her hand across her forehead to wipe off the light beads of sweat.
“Wow! That felt good!”
The attendant used a long stick to get one of the Tweety birds down handing it over to Ulyssa. “Here ya go. You’re pretty good. I only ever saw one person use both clubs like that before. Some guy up in New York.”
“If I give you $5, would you win one for me?” Mitsy asked, handing Ulyssa her money. “I want a giant stuffed animal.”
“I’ll try. I can’t promise anything.”
Ulyssa handed the money to the girl and grabbed her Viking hammers. She made quick work of the moles again without missing a single one. Mitsy squealed and grabbed the stuffed animal. I guess this made up for the violence of pummeling some animals.
The annoyed attendant glared at Ulyssa saying, “That’s your last
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