In a recent post I laid out a challenge to all bloggers to use five phrases and craft a blog post of their choosing as a study in stengthening their writing skills while having a little fun in the process. This is my response to the challenge. Phrases in boldface are those that had to be used in the post.
“…but as soon as he looks down he’s going to be sad about the pony.”
Those were the first words that registered as I came around; sun glaring, dust heavy on my face and in my mouth. Where the hell was I? It was bright. Man, was it ever so bright – and humid. The smell of manure and moist sawdust didn’t help the throbbing in my head, right behind my left eye. A dizziness unlike anything I experienced before started to overtake me. I then realized why. I was laying on my stomach across the back of a carnival pony strapped to one of those carousel-type contraptions you see at local county fairs around the Midwest. Similar to how Conan the Barbarian spent his formative pubescent years before setting forth to kill Darth Vader and the voice of CNN. This pony (not I) was strapped in circular purgatory to the device. Destined to parade in his own feces and urine with a middle-age man in questionable state of sobriety laying across its back. Luckily I was not a little taller or my head may have been dragging in similar fashion to the pony’s tail – not a subject I wished to dwell upon for any discernable length of time.
We have mornings like this all the time. Not the pony/feces/sawdust kind of mornings, but rather those mornings when we wake that we dread moving from our waking position. Granted, laying sidesaddle on my chest across a mammal parading through filth was not a waking-up-naked-next-to-three-Victoria’s-Secret-models-and-a-bacon-stocked-chaffing-dish sort of life-moment, but it was definitely one rung up the ladder from dismounting and standing erect.
Finally working up courage I mumbled to no one other than myself… “I started, so I’ll finish!” I managed to very non-gracefully dismount. I almost made it cleanly, but gravity being a harsh mistress, ended up flat on my face in the dirt. Standing and dusting myself off – wavering in the light breeze as though I was a discarded plastic cup and not a grown man – I finally took a moment to look around me.
I appeared to be in a mall parking lot. I’m not quite sure where. It looked nothing of the mall in my town or any close to where I live or have visited. I was indeed standing within the makeshift ring of one of those pony rides as I had figured. Yay me! Pat on the back + 1! There were various contraptions of questionable metallic composition (aka carnival rides) within my general location: double Ferris Wheel, mini cars, spider ride, and of course the requisite Vomitron contraption that spins you around and drops the floor out from underneath you when the RPMs get up to stomach-purging speed. Like Back To The Future, only when you get to 80 MPH you don’t go back in time – just your stomach does – to the last meal you ate. Then you get to experience it all over again.
Travelling Experimental Engineering Show And Pot Distribution Center. That’s what I started to call these pop-up carnival shows in my head around the same time I lost interest in visiting them in my late teens. Buy a ticket – ride the rides – if the rivets hold you win! Stay away from Grampa’s Groper’s Dark House of Odd Smells (House of Fun). The various rides held together by simply using some magical tool, library, or bong I’m sure.
The place was deserted. As the fog began to lift in my head I was able to begin replaying the events of the previous night (or was it two) in my head. I remember Tom, Brent, Jeremiah, and I heading out to somewhere – (Eastern Washington was it?) from Seattle. Something about Wine Country and having a free day before catching our flights home. Jason was a last-minute addition to the trip and I think that is where things went awry. Plans become fluid when you add Massie to the mix, don’t they? I’m not quite sure where I was, but the events that took me from Point A to here (point X) had about as many plot holes as any of the last three Star Wars movies. Just ask George “Let’s Have Padme Die Of A Broken Heart Instead Of Anakin Crushing Her To Death” Lucas. I remember hitting Woodinville and stopping in at the Red Hook brewery. After that things start to blur a bit. The vision of Jason’s Live Nude Cats dogeared magazine he notoriously carried around in his back pocket and quoted jokes out of came to mind. I remember Jeremiah, the sober one in the group and Designated Driver utter that phrase that woke me to my state this morning: “but as soon as he looks down he’s going to be sad about the pony“. This was his idea – I’m sure. He was the only one in proper, working function that could formulate a sentence at whatever point the wheels came off the wagon I’m sure. Sure, Massie may have been the catalyst for this sad state of affairs, but Jeremiah was the brains and brawn that saw it through.
Now how do I extract myself from this situation? I don’t know where I am. I’m thinking it must be early on a weekend though due to the emptiness of the midway. Even the carnies were still trailered-up for the night/morning.
Good thing I still had my cell phone in my pant’s pocke-
Damn it! Where are my pants?