Kayson's Carnival of Joy

The air thrummed with a joyous cacophony. Laughter, sharp and sweet like spun sugar, mingled with the tinny, triumphant blare of the carousel organ, which, against all odds, was actually working. Kayson, his face smeared with what looked suspiciously like blue raspberry slushie and a liberal dusting of popcorn kernels, grinned until his cheeks ached. He surveyed the scene with a bewildered, delighted awe. It was a glorious, unmitigated mess, and it was *working*.

The Ferris wheel, a skeletal giant that had threatened to collapse an hour ago, now creaked and groaned its way around, each car a bobbing beacon of brave, slightly terrified faces. Ms. Periwinkle, her stern librarian bun replaced by a jaunty, albeit slightly askew, pink ribbon, was at the very top, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated glee as she pointed out landmarks to the child beside her. Kayson had to stifle a laugh; the image of the prim and proper Ms. Periwinkle with her nose in a Dewey Decimal system suddenly soaring through the sky was almost too much.

Barnaby ‘The Boulder’ Brock, his usual scowl replaced by a rare, rumbling chuckle, stood near the entrance to the ‘Tunnel of Terrors’ (which, thanks to Kayson’s accidental recalibration of a faulty fog machine, was currently emitting more bubbles than smoke, much to the delight of the younger patrons). He was expertly juggling three oversized stuffed animals, tossing them with a surprising gentleness that belied his mountain of a frame. Each successful catch was met with a chorus of cheers from the children gathered around him.