Page 9 of Runt's Haunted Ride
"Why grape?"
Meeting his eyes, "Purple clown, purple…" I raised my eyebrows.
"Fuck me."
"I'm sure he would," I teased.
"Shut up!" Swinger punched my arm. "I hate clowns." He shuddered.
"Grape?"
I nodded my head. "Grape."
We continued our patrol together, then split up again. I watched the orange-haired clown approach a group of women near the Tilt-A-Whirl. With exaggerated movements, he pretended to trip, stumbling directly into a large-breasted one. But instead of apologizing, he grabbed her breast and squeezed, honking like a car horn.
"Honk honk!" he giggled maniacally. "Oops! Clumsy me!"
The woman should have been outraged, but she just giggled along with him, her eyes glazed over. Whatever influence these clowns had, it wasn't just the dust. She wrapped her arm through his, and together they entered the ride.
Near the funhouse, I heard moans and cries that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with what people were doing in the dark spaces inside.
The carny running the pop-the-balloon-with-darts game was covered, including his head, with scale tattoos and didn't have any ears. A man popped three balloons, and the carny scurried up a pole to grab the prize. As he handed it to him, his tongue, which was split in two, thrust out at least eight inches. Two girls standing next to him squealed at the sight, then asked to see it again.
I continued on my way.
As the night went on, things just kept happening. When I passed near the ring toss game, the green-haired clown—the one with the puzzle-piece face—was chatting up a couple. The piecesof his face were literally rearranging themselves as he spoke to them, creating different expressions. I stopped and watched.
"Are you afraid to try an adventure?" His face shifted into a questioning gesture. "Something your boring lives have been missing?" The pieces moved again, creating a lascivious grin. "I can show you games that will change everything."
The couple nodded eagerly, their eyes already showing the telltale glassy stare. He took each of their hands and led them toward a darkened area between tents. I heard the woman say, "We need an adventure."
When Swinger, Bulldog, and I regrouped near the main entrance as the scream sounded announcing the carnival was closed, we all looked like we'd seen war.
"One thing's for sure, this place is fucked," Swinger said, lighting up a cigarette with shaking hands. "Like, seriously fucked."
We eyed several of the carnies walking arm-in-arm with various people. The lizard-looking guy had a woman on each arm—one from the college ladies, the other one of the bachelorette partygoers—both had the glossed-over look.
"Remember, this is your fantasy," he said. Both ladies nodded their heads in agreement.
"We better give it one more walk-through," I said. "Make sure everyone's out."
"Do we have to?" Swinger asked.
"We better," Bulldog huffed.
One more time around the midway, and everyone was either heading out the main gate or to the personal tents. We all stopped in our tracks when we saw the triplets hovering around a guy, moving him toward the performers' area. My hair stood on end listening to them giggle.
"Poor bastard," Bulldog uttered. "Better him than me."
"Hear, hear," I agreed.
"Not me. Not in a million years," Swinger stated, turning to head to where our bikes were parked.
"No, your tastes are far more purple than that," I teased him.
"Wait, what?" Bulldog asked.
"You ass, Runt," Swinger's fist connected with my chest. "Nothing, it's nothing."
