I had no idea what I was doing driving up here with the boy. None. I only wanted to get away.
This is the place where all the unwanted pocket change in the nation collects. They haven’t seen a shiny new quarter in decades. I have declined each handful of change that someone has tried to return to me. The coins seem fuzzy, a color other than nickel or dime.
For $200 a night I'm going to let him turn this room into Wet and Wild.
You just knew that somewhere there was a retarded girl showing off her pussy for three tickets. I simply couldn’t find the right trailer. You could probably poke it with a stick for five, take a picture of the poke for seven. The First Aid trailer was closed for repairs. There were groups of creepy Christians wandering around trying to convert people. High-school focus groups. I was offering them 20 tickets each to come to the dark side. No questions asked.
Some of the “attractions” leave you wondering.
As soon as I stopped being myself I noticed that it was fun.
The kid was able to find a date pretty easily.
The tea cups were one of two rides that he could go on by himself by being above the 36” requirement.
Once the spinning stopped they each lost interest and wandered their own ways, already drifting within what will become those same ways of the world.