Amusement Park

A couple visit an amusement park.

Amusement Park

     Betty and Freddie had dated for a very long time. Suffering dog-day summer heat, they wandered around a local amusement park hosted by furry, cartoon mascots. Although they’d visited the park many times, Betty always looked amazed, as if it was her first time there. On this visit though, Freddie couldn’t shake a feeling of being lost. One thing he did know for sure was, they were both getting tired and hungry. Betty held Freddie’s hand as they meandered the park’s asphalt fairways, navigated around wild rides and side-stepped through clots of people Freddie called: wriggling fish bait. 

     They passed by a bank of fun house mirrors, and for a moment, Freddie paused. He didn’t recognize his own reflection until Betty peered over his shoulder, her head stretched to impossible dimensions, and they both laughed. Freddie mumbled something and they continued on until a cartoon muskrat bumped into him. He tried to kick the mascot’s powder-puff keister, but Betty pulled him away just before his shoe made contact. 

     Freddie watched Betty take a camera from her saddle purse and snap a couple shots of people turning green on the Tilt-a-Whirl. She wore a floppy hat, the kind supermodels wear at horse races, and oversized sunglasses. Under the hat’s wide brim, she looked calm, cool, and mostly collected, all except for tiny, trickles of sweat on her neck. 

     

     “You should have worn a hat Freddie” said Betty.

     “I don’t like hats. They leave indentations on your forehead.”

     “But you’d be much cooler.”

     “In this heat? I doubt it.” 

     Everyone around them picked some manner of clothing off their backs, away from their bulging bellies, or yanked unabashedly from dark crevices. All Freddie could think about was finding shade, a cool drink and some food. 

     “Aren’t you hungry, Betty?”

     “I could eat.” 

     “It seems we’ve just been walking in circles for hours. What time did we get here?”

     “Right when they opened at 10 am this morning.”

     “THAT long?” Freddie tried to check his wristwatch, but the dial had steamed up.

     “Look Freddie, over there.” 

     Freddie looked in the direction Betty pointed and saw a group of small, metal umbrella tables promising shade. The only shade they’d seen since arriving at the park. The tables sat in front of a concession stand with a menu that boasted Venison funnel cakes and Tibetan ice cream. A large, wood cut-out of a beer mug advertised liquid nitrogen chilled lager. Freddie got a better grip on Betty’s clammy hand and lead her forthwith toward the shady oasis. 

     “This must be the place. There isn’t another patch of shade in sight” said Freddie. 

     “Quick, before anyone else sits down” said Betty sliding onto a folding chair. 

     While they waited for someone to take their order, Freddie gave Betty his handkerchief to dab the back of her neck with. Freddie let out a sigh. They hadn’t stopped moving since this morning. He took this moment of respite to look around. The park goer’s still splashed about like Koi fish at feeding time, but now he noticed other aspects of the amusement park. Towering totem poles carved with likenesses of prehistoric beasts were scattered around the grounds�" a feature he didn’t remember noticing on previous visits. Giant, helium balloons shaped like nursery rhyme characters drifted untethered overhead like clouds. 

     It was then a short, rubbery high school kid with spiky hair, wearing a butcher’s apron came over and set two slopping flagons of lager down next to them. Freddie thought the kid must have read his mind.

     “Two cakes, for here?” He asked pulling a flashy Hawaiian shirt away from his chest. 

     “Yeah, make it two each and hurry” said Freddie.

     “Right-O” said the kid, and left. 

     “How hot do you think it is” asked Betty

     “I dunno, but two hours ago, that pile of molten scrap metal over there, used to be a Ferris wheel.”

     “Seems like we just got here, doesn’t it Freddie?” Freddie actually felt they’d been wandering around forever.

     “I have no idea how long we’ve been on this excursion, but I think I’m getting heat stroke.”

    

     Betty and Freddie had just started their cool down, when the high school kid whistled like he was hailing a taxi, then roller blade-ed to their table with their orders.

     “Did you have those roller blades on before?” Freddie asked.

     “Before what?” Replied the kid. 

     “Never mind. God, its hot.”

     “I’ll be back with your check later.” The kid pushed off with a rubbery leg and was gone. 

     “I could have sworn he�"“

     “Oh, just forget about it Freddie, lets eat.”

     The exotic funnel cakes were sugary and gamely all at the same time. Fryer grease ran down their chins and coated their fingers as they gorged themselves. Freddie finished his first venison cake and chugged half his flagon of lager.  

     “You’re going to get a headache drinking like that” Betty cautioned.  

     “Can’t help it, I’m parched.”

     “You might even pass out. I’m not picking you up dear.”

     “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” Freddie said, wiping lager foam off his lips. 

     Freddie watched Betty, a winsome girl of eighty, suck the foamy head off her lager before daintily sipping the amber fluid. Refrigerator sized loud speakers blared Calliope music throughout the amusement park. The music sounded like a dual between bagpipes and a church organ. A string of feral, sunburnt children the color of fried bacon, ran by. Freddie squinted after them, wondering where they got all that energy from.   

     “How many people you think are out here today?” Wondered Betty.  

     “All of them” replied Freddie. 

     “Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

     “I’m serious, how many people on this planet, 5, 6, 7, billion and change?”

     “Its impossible for that many people to be in this park at the same time.” 

     “Wanna bet?” Freddie twisted his head around looking for their waiter. 

     “Figures.” He grumbled.

     “What does?” 

     “Youth�" never around when you need them.”

     “He’s just a kid, Freddie.” 

     “So? Hey…whats that smell?”

     “What smell?” Betty suffered an olfactory impairment. 

     “You can’t smell that, really musky, gamy scent?”  

     “Its your funnel cake, dear.”

     “No, not that… oooh.” 

     Freddie threw a thumb in the direction of the Magic Avalanche ride. Betty saw a guy in a turban and speedos, leading a string of mangy camels down the fairway, headed in their direction. They sat directly down wind of the camel train.

     “I can’t believe you can’t smell that” Freddie said holding his nose.

     “That’s funny.” Said Betty tilting her head.  

     “What the guy in a turban and speedos?” 

     “No, those camels are all female.” 

     “What?” Freddie craned his neck to see for himself, “How the heck can you tell that?” 

     “They have long eyelashes.” 

     “Really, and that’s how you can tell?”

     Betty hid a smile behind her flagon of lager. The high school kid returned, riding a unicycle. “Can I get you something else?” 

     “Yeah, I’ll have another lager, and ya got any fries with that?” 

     “Sure, you want a small, medium, or large order?” 

     “I’ll take a large” said Freddie.

     “Right-o“

And the kid took off again, peeling rubber. The smell of a half-melted tire and camel musk permeated the air. 

     “Amusement parks are so exotic, don’t you think Freddie?”  

     “Maybe if I was ten.” He tried to remember the first time they came here, but couldn’t rouse the memory. “Whose idea was this anyway, coming here.” 

     “Yours” Betty replied, unruffled. 

     “Yeah, right. No way.” 

     “This is what you said you wanted to do on your birthday. “

     “But, its not my birthday.”

     “Yes it is.” 

     “How…what… I…” sputtered Freddie.

     “You’re 90 today.” 

     “The hell you say.” 

     “Yes, you made it and you know what they say, 90 is the new 70. Surprised?” 

     “Yeah, that’d be the word for it.” 

     The kid returned, wheeling a fifty-five gallon metal drum filled with french fries and a five gallon can of ketchup slung on a strap over his shoulder.

     “One large order of fries, Ketchup is on the house.” Freddie was speechless. “I’ll be back with your check.” 

     “Oh, Betty, my sweet, care for some fries? 

     “No thanks, this beer is filling me up, its the carbonation.” 

     “This isn’t a potato eating contest, I can’t finish these fries all by myself.” 

     “Ask the young man for a doggie bag.” Freddie looked at the drum of fries and gas can of ketchup. 

     “I wouldn’t dare” he said. 

     Freddie dowsed the top of the fries with ketchup. Throngs of people streamed by, a fuzzy patchwork of arms, legs and tropical colors. Loudspeaker music reverberated like cymbal crashes. He paused between bites to examine a gnarled hand holding his french fry. Betty snapped him from his daydream. 

     “Are we going to stay for the big mascot parade tonight?” 

     “Not if I can find the exit first” said Freddie. 

     “Oh, come on.” 

     “Nope. If I hear one more perky voiced Furry ask if I’m having a good time, I’m gonna mount some trophies on my wall tonight.” 

     “You’re a sick puppy.” 

     “Yeah, but you’re the one dating me.” 

     “Eat your fries, Freddie.” 

     The kid returned again, this time riding a skateboard. When he reached their table, he kick-flipped his skateboard, twirled it in the air and caught it. Taped to the under side was the bill. 

     “Sign please” said the kid. Freddie signed. 

     “Want me to wrap up the remainder of your order to take home?” 

     “Yer kiddin’ right?”  

     “If you say so” replied the kid before cartwheeling back to the food wagon. 

     “I think I’ll use these fries like bread crumbs, so we don’t travel in circles trying to escape this place.” 

     “You’re such a kill joy, Freddie.” 

     “Betty, my lovely, aren’t you glad I never asked your father for your hand in marriage?” 

     Betty didn’t answer right away. She held her beer mug in front of her face, looked through the lager and for a while, watched lingering bubbles disappear. 

     “You know Freddie, when we first started going out, you looked an awful lot like our waiter, spiky hair and all.’

     “The hell you say.”

     “And my father, the rear admiral, if you asked for my hand back then, he’d have promptly told you to fly a kite. So actually my dear, you’re the lucky one.” 

Freddie contemplated her answer as he swished his last gulp of lager around his mouth. Just before swallowing, he wrinkled a smile and silently conceded she was right.

Author's Note

My latest write… just this week. Critiques and comments welcome.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

I thought it was going to be an ordinary story when I began, but then Salvador Dali started showing up and things got a little (A lot) weird. I tell you for sure, you're still a well-earled writing machine. Seriously--I enjoyed this walk on the wild side.

[roarke]

Thanks for the read Sam. So good to hear from you. I don’t know about the oil… my machine is sluggish and sporadic. Its been a very hard winter here. Anyway, I like this piece, it obviously needs work, but is currently sitting in my simmer file, so I thought I’d post it here for some suggestions. Obviously one of the themes is about aging, and I could twist this up more, add some sci-fi, some psychology, etc…but I don’t want to muck it up. I think it might need more “scene details”… but again, too much spoils the broth.

[DidIWriteThat]

Humorous! You did a great job of setting the scene, it was easy to see the story in my mind. I like the overkill on the descriptions, especially the barrel of fries!!! I would like to read more of this style.

[roarke]

Thanks for the read and comments, much appreciated. My usual non-genre is Fabulism/magic realism… or so they call it. Its just my take on reality. the overkill is intentional, as you will see if you read more of my writing. I do write with different approaches, but this tone/style is entertaining to me as well, I hope to the reader. Again, thanks for the read.