Lifting Spirits

For two short seconds they felt complete weightlessness as they dropped from the loading pad. Both immediately began to scream as the horizon rose with their hair.

Shane made the mistake of looking down. His yelling was cut short by the instinctive gasp for air that pulled at his lungs as he watched the ground below racing toward him.

They bounced once, then twice, and finally came to a rest as the carnival staff got hold of their seat.

“Ah man.” Wayne said, gasping. “They don’t call it the slingshot for nothing. That was intense!”

Shane was white as a ghost. “Probably not the best idea after four pints of beer and a half box of corndogs.”

Wayne laughed. “You gonna hurl?”

“Ugh man. Maybe.” He said. “Maybe.” Once again, perhaps in hopes that the possibility of the act didn’t soon change to a definite yes.

“Alright folks.” Said the staff. “That’s it for today, thanks for coming by. We’ll be here ‘till next Tuesday if you’re interested in coming back. Bring more friends.”

“Oh I don’t know Doug.” Wayne said, reading the nametag off of the carnie’s shirt. This was somewhat of a quirk Wayne had. If a person wore a nametag, he’d be darned if not to use it. “That’s what it’s there for.” He always said, when one of his friends questioned his motives.

“Yes. Definitely yes.” Shane said.

Wayne turned to him. “Huh? Yes to what?”

Shane took a few steps toward a nearby trashcan and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach.

“Oh. Yes to puking… gotcha.” Wayne turned back to the carnie. “Yeah. I really doubt we’ll be back, but it was a nice distraction.” He elongated the last part of the word as his eye caught a woman standing near a bumper cars kiosk across the fair grounds.

The carnie cocked his head at the blank stare and followed Wayne’s gaze. He laughed. “Guess you’ll be back tomorrow eh?”

“Maybe.” Wayne said. “Maybe.”

“No… please no.” Came Shane’s echoed voice from deep within the trashcan.

The End

58 comments about this story Feed