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valarltdFrom Alive on the Inside
Lisa shivered at the sight of the posters for the World's Largest Rat! and The Beautiful Body Without Any Head! A Miracle of Science! that they passed. She smiled and blushed at the Hammer Throw, where several of the local football players had taken off their shirts in the September heat and were trying valiantly to ring the bell at the top of the backboard. A tall, very good-looking dark-haired boy rang it and his friends cheered. He handed the four-foot tall purple gorilla to his little blonde girlfriend who wasn't much taller than it was.
“Go do it, Nicky,” she said. “See where you rate.”
Nick left his shirt on and stepped up. He handed over his two quarters to the booth-man and picked up the hammer. He looked at the ratings on the backboard and scowled. “Girl” read the lowest, “pansy” above that, “drag queen” was followed by “light in the loafers." “Gym homo” and “Muscle queer” were near the top. The top, where the bell sat, just read “Super-fag." He didn't want to do this.
He picked up the hammer anyway. Lisa wanted to watch him. So he swung the hammer experimentally and then brought it crashing down on the pad. The weight shot up the backboard and clanged on the bell.
“My Superman,” she sighed, with a smile. He looked at the backboard and saw it had ratings of various comic-book super heroes, with Clark Kent at the bottom, progressing up through Aquaman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Batman and topping out with Superman. He must have read it wrong.
She picked out the panda bear, which meant another trip to the car. This time, they focused on the attractions as they came in. They shied from Marie Leveau and the Sybil and Mopsus, knowing that going to any one of them could open the family to demonic possession for generations.
Nick nodded at the photo booth. “Want to try this one?" Lisa looked at the pictures, growing puzzled to see so many familiar faces in unfamiliar clothing and settings.
“She just dresses you up, right? Like when we had that picture made up at Worlds of Fun?" Lisa cherished the picture. It had been Nick's idea to get an old-time engagement picture made. She was wearing a Civil War ball dress, and Nick, in Confederate uniform, knelt before her, sliding a ring onto her hand. Everyone thought it was lovely.
Nick nodded. They went into the little tent. Mistress Valeria, an amazonian woman with black hair, a roman nose and olive skin, smiled at them.
“Hello, children. You come for your pictures?" Her accent was vaguely Italian, putting Nick in mind of paintings of sunshine on the vineyard walls, wicker-wrapped chianti bottles with candles in them, and garlic bread.
“Yes, please,” Lisa said. “Together?”
“No, no, bella. The camera, she can only capture one at a time. You and then your handsome husband.”
Lisa smiled. “Fiance,” she corrected. “So where are the costumes?" She looked around the little tent.
“There are none. The magic is all in the camera.”
Lisa flinched at that and turned to go. Nick stopped her. “It's all done with computers and trick photography,” he reassured her.
A little calmer, Lisa sat down in the chair. Nick watched as Valeria took her picture, with no more fanfare than a Sears photographer. Nick took his turn in the chair.
Valeria smiled at them. “You will come back after the six o'clock Ten in One. The pictures will be ready then. For you, I make a special deal. I charge three dollar each, but for the pair of you, only four for two pictures. Retakes, one dollar." She handed Nick back the dollar from his five.
Lisa wanted to see the Living Unicorn, and she cooed over the pretty little white goat with the single horn. It was frisky and friendly, wanting to be petted. She bought a handful of pellets from the machine for a dime and fed them to the unicorn, petting it. It nuzzled in her hand for more food. Nick bought a handful and stooped down to join her, but the little beast turned its nose up at his offering and went back to Lisa for more petting.
He dumped the pellets into Lisa's hand and stood back up, almost angry. Of course, the animal couldn't tell if he was a virgin or not. He considered himself one, even if it was only by stretching the definition to exclude dreams. It must not have liked his aftershave.
Lisa said as much. “But I like it,” she added, taking a deep breath of the citrus and leather smell of his Aramis cologne. She didn't take his hand, but washed up using the wet-wipe packets at the exit. Then she tucked one hand into his elbow and moved a little closer.
Lisa shivered at the sight of the posters for the World's Largest Rat! and The Beautiful Body Without Any Head! A Miracle of Science! that they passed. She smiled and blushed at the Hammer Throw, where several of the local football players had taken off their shirts in the September heat and were trying valiantly to ring the bell at the top of the backboard. A tall, very good-looking dark-haired boy rang it and his friends cheered. He handed the four-foot tall purple gorilla to his little blonde girlfriend who wasn't much taller than it was.
“Go do it, Nicky,” she said. “See where you rate.”
Nick left his shirt on and stepped up. He handed over his two quarters to the booth-man and picked up the hammer. He looked at the ratings on the backboard and scowled. “Girl” read the lowest, “pansy” above that, “drag queen” was followed by “light in the loafers." “Gym homo” and “Muscle queer” were near the top. The top, where the bell sat, just read “Super-fag." He didn't want to do this.
He picked up the hammer anyway. Lisa wanted to watch him. So he swung the hammer experimentally and then brought it crashing down on the pad. The weight shot up the backboard and clanged on the bell.
“My Superman,” she sighed, with a smile. He looked at the backboard and saw it had ratings of various comic-book super heroes, with Clark Kent at the bottom, progressing up through Aquaman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Batman and topping out with Superman. He must have read it wrong.
She picked out the panda bear, which meant another trip to the car. This time, they focused on the attractions as they came in. They shied from Marie Leveau and the Sybil and Mopsus, knowing that going to any one of them could open the family to demonic possession for generations.
Nick nodded at the photo booth. “Want to try this one?" Lisa looked at the pictures, growing puzzled to see so many familiar faces in unfamiliar clothing and settings.
“She just dresses you up, right? Like when we had that picture made up at Worlds of Fun?" Lisa cherished the picture. It had been Nick's idea to get an old-time engagement picture made. She was wearing a Civil War ball dress, and Nick, in Confederate uniform, knelt before her, sliding a ring onto her hand. Everyone thought it was lovely.
Nick nodded. They went into the little tent. Mistress Valeria, an amazonian woman with black hair, a roman nose and olive skin, smiled at them.
“Hello, children. You come for your pictures?" Her accent was vaguely Italian, putting Nick in mind of paintings of sunshine on the vineyard walls, wicker-wrapped chianti bottles with candles in them, and garlic bread.
“Yes, please,” Lisa said. “Together?”
“No, no, bella. The camera, she can only capture one at a time. You and then your handsome husband.”
Lisa smiled. “Fiance,” she corrected. “So where are the costumes?" She looked around the little tent.
“There are none. The magic is all in the camera.”
Lisa flinched at that and turned to go. Nick stopped her. “It's all done with computers and trick photography,” he reassured her.
A little calmer, Lisa sat down in the chair. Nick watched as Valeria took her picture, with no more fanfare than a Sears photographer. Nick took his turn in the chair.
Valeria smiled at them. “You will come back after the six o'clock Ten in One. The pictures will be ready then. For you, I make a special deal. I charge three dollar each, but for the pair of you, only four for two pictures. Retakes, one dollar." She handed Nick back the dollar from his five.
Lisa wanted to see the Living Unicorn, and she cooed over the pretty little white goat with the single horn. It was frisky and friendly, wanting to be petted. She bought a handful of pellets from the machine for a dime and fed them to the unicorn, petting it. It nuzzled in her hand for more food. Nick bought a handful and stooped down to join her, but the little beast turned its nose up at his offering and went back to Lisa for more petting.
He dumped the pellets into Lisa's hand and stood back up, almost angry. Of course, the animal couldn't tell if he was a virgin or not. He considered himself one, even if it was only by stretching the definition to exclude dreams. It must not have liked his aftershave.
Lisa said as much. “But I like it,” she added, taking a deep breath of the citrus and leather smell of his Aramis cologne. She didn't take his hand, but washed up using the wet-wipe packets at the exit. Then she tucked one hand into his elbow and moved a little closer.
