The Carnival

I arrived at the bakery, ready and prepared to sell bread full of sugar and grease to people under the guise of 'your healthy bakery.' I don't suppose the people really cared that some of our food had more cholesterol and fats than the fried food next door; it was enough for them that they were buying a bread product, and therefore looking after themselves.

Stepping behind the counter, I was pleased to find that I was working with Carly tonight. Carly was one of the people I actually liked at the bakery. Most of the employees were friendly enough, but when you got down to it, they were just being nice for the sake of an easier time. Carly was the same, I guess, but at least she tried to pretend she liked you.

We were busy cleaning up at the end of the night when Carly told me she didn't like the happy people at the carnivals. When she said it, I immediately had the image of buying some fairy floss for myself, only to have her rush up and bludgeon me with her Bat of Misery until I stopped twitching. I told her so, and when I asked her whether the bat was wooden or inflatable, she gave me a strange look and explained that "the happy people are the ones on the Ferris wheel. They all look like they're having the time of their lives, when really they're just going up and down, around in circles." Then she told me to stop being an idiot, and to keep mopping the floors.

We finished our shifts, and I grabbed my meagre paycheck, already spent in my mind as I planned to hit the town. Unfortunately, that never eventuated, as the lure of cheap groceries stole my resolve at the local supermarket, and I soon found my arms filled with random items, raspberry fizzy drink, razor blades, and a packet of rice I was sure I hadn't picked up. The girl at the cashier smiled weakly, and asked how I was. Knowing my role in this little stage play, I answered that I was "fine, thank-you," and waited for her to take my money. Somewhere at the edge of perception, I could almost hear the director calling out to us. "Stage left! Cashier, what is your motivation? You're not emoting! I NEED MORE EMOTION!!! I CANNOT WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS!!!"

I began to feel hot under the imaginary lights, and stage fright began to grip my mind, paralysing me. The cashier handed me my change, and I stammered a thank-you and fled, forgetting my purchases in the process. It wasn't until I was five minutes down the road that I remembered them, and seeing as I'd blown $20 of my leisurely-earned money on them, I wasn't about to leave them behind.
The walk back was one of the longest five-minute walks I'd ever had, until I noticed that my watch had stopped, and I'd actually run for ten minutes before I turned around. Returning to the supermarket, I hurried in and grabbed my groceries, mumbling something about "nice emoting" to the cashier before I left.

Clouds rolled across the sky, and before long it started to rain. The rain glistened on the pavement, and reflected the lights of the town. As I walked home, my mind was captivated and dazzled by the lights. My consciousness swam in a sea of lights, wavering and shining. All around me, blobs shimmered in yellow and white and orange. They danced around, making me twirl every which way in a surreal dance, my feet sliding across the slick footpath. The lights span ever closer, a blinding white that burnt into my brain.

Then the car hit me, and my body pin-wheeled up into the air. My limbs flailing like a rag-doll, my mind conjured up images of carnivals and Ferris wheels, and I thought, "I'm like the happy people!"

Then my head hit the road, and I stopped thinking.