Whirling, spinning survivors, I couldn’t control my
laughter as I looked at Ann’s ashen face, her hair a
windblown forest, her tongue lapping back and forth
trying to lick off cotton candy plastered on both
cheeks. “You’re the bravest person I know” I
laughed, “who else would try to eat cotton candy
while riding the Octopus?”
We ambled on down the midway, deciding to see a couple
of sideshow freaks, their makeup so obviously phoney
I laughed tears from my eyes, while lovable but gullible Ann
studied them in earnest awe. So many things to see and do.
Exhibits, rides and games, competitions, animals big and small,
attractions galore.
I dipped into my pockets for the evening’s much
advertised concert, after which Ann wanted to
check out the pig judging finals. I agreed, saying
we better grab a coney island first because seeing
pork will make me hungry. Her turn to laugh, she did,
spreading the cotton candy wide
on her cute little face.
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