Do You Wanna’ Go Faster?! Yeaaaa… Puke!
The Gravitron is one of the most popular carnival rides every made and next to the Squirrel Cages one of the most fowl to clean at the end of the night.
The Gravitron is one of them there spinny rides, built like a flying saucer with slanted padded walls that the customers are pinned ta’ when it hits full tilt, flappy cheeks G-force. At the heart of this “assault to your digestive system” ride is the DJ/control booth were’ Darrel blasts the top 40 hits of 1978 while multi-colored strobe lights flash insistently at every square inch of the interior ta’ ensure that if the ride didn’t make you spew chunks you’ll at least have a seizure.
So me and Mel finish for the day and are gettin’ar’ selves gussied up to crash the local high school dance when Sweats, da’ Park Boss, comes up ta’ us and says that Darrel’s down with shingles and we’ll have ta’ clean the Gravitron. Well after the obligatory pissin’ and moanin’ we grabs are slop buckets and diving helmets then start’d scrubbin’.
Now the upside ta’ cleaning the Vomitron is all the cool stuff ya’ find stuck behind the padded walls. Rubes have no idea how much stuff is pulled from their pockets in jus’ a couple of spins. Now the most abundant is loose change, but that’s not all; jewelry, keys, chap sticks, loaded guns, it’s like an Easter egg hunt only with crappy stuff from peoples pockets. But thus time we hit the uberfreakload.
It hadn’ been two minutes since I hoisted Mel inta’ the crawl space behind the head rests when I hear him let out a squeal of pure terror. After a few soothing words and a verse of “Easy Lover” Mel calmed down ‘nuf ta’ throw out the offending object. A human head. Not a fake plastic head or one of thems mannequin heads but a fer’ reals guys head. We stared at it, pushed it ‘round with our mops an’ even got up the nerve ta’ pinch its nose, but for the life of us we cuddin’t figure out where it came from. Not like sum dudes gonna come in with his head on then leave with it off. Then maybe some one brought it in, but woudn’t sum one notice a guy carrying around a head.
After loitering ‘round a head for an hour it tends to loose its thrill, sa me and Mel finished scrubbin’ the splattered upchuck, counted out $23.47 in free money and put the head in an old pickle jar. Wes take turns wit the head, Mel gets it one week and he keeps it on da’ top of his stool while when its my week I keep it right da “Whack ‘em Cats” counter. Its brought me good luck with the rubes too, more customers an’ less winnin’s. I guess the glassy gaze of a disembodied head floatin’ in vinegar is kinda’ distraction when ya’ tryin’ to whack ‘em cats. Mel’s wants to call’em Headly.
The Gravitron is one of them there spinny rides, built like a flying saucer with slanted padded walls that the customers are pinned ta’ when it hits full tilt, flappy cheeks G-force. At the heart of this “assault to your digestive system” ride is the DJ/control booth were’ Darrel blasts the top 40 hits of 1978 while multi-colored strobe lights flash insistently at every square inch of the interior ta’ ensure that if the ride didn’t make you spew chunks you’ll at least have a seizure.
So me and Mel finish for the day and are gettin’ar’ selves gussied up to crash the local high school dance when Sweats, da’ Park Boss, comes up ta’ us and says that Darrel’s down with shingles and we’ll have ta’ clean the Gravitron. Well after the obligatory pissin’ and moanin’ we grabs are slop buckets and diving helmets then start’d scrubbin’.
Now the upside ta’ cleaning the Vomitron is all the cool stuff ya’ find stuck behind the padded walls. Rubes have no idea how much stuff is pulled from their pockets in jus’ a couple of spins. Now the most abundant is loose change, but that’s not all; jewelry, keys, chap sticks, loaded guns, it’s like an Easter egg hunt only with crappy stuff from peoples pockets. But thus time we hit the uberfreakload.
It hadn’ been two minutes since I hoisted Mel inta’ the crawl space behind the head rests when I hear him let out a squeal of pure terror. After a few soothing words and a verse of “Easy Lover” Mel calmed down ‘nuf ta’ throw out the offending object. A human head. Not a fake plastic head or one of thems mannequin heads but a fer’ reals guys head. We stared at it, pushed it ‘round with our mops an’ even got up the nerve ta’ pinch its nose, but for the life of us we cuddin’t figure out where it came from. Not like sum dudes gonna come in with his head on then leave with it off. Then maybe some one brought it in, but woudn’t sum one notice a guy carrying around a head.
After loitering ‘round a head for an hour it tends to loose its thrill, sa me and Mel finished scrubbin’ the splattered upchuck, counted out $23.47 in free money and put the head in an old pickle jar. Wes take turns wit the head, Mel gets it one week and he keeps it on da’ top of his stool while when its my week I keep it right da “Whack ‘em Cats” counter. Its brought me good luck with the rubes too, more customers an’ less winnin’s. I guess the glassy gaze of a disembodied head floatin’ in vinegar is kinda’ distraction when ya’ tryin’ to whack ‘em cats. Mel’s wants to call’em Headly.
posted by Captain Mog at 4:40 PM
3 Comments:
I wondered what happen to that head I used to have. Thanks man.
Ah, mystery solved. Ifs ya’ wish ta’ pick-up Headly were currently at Tobeys Corner, Maine in the Sycamore Park at the Whack ‘em Cats booth near the west end of the park next ta’ the Skee-Ball booth. Naw’ I will need proof that this is yur head. Like a drivers license for the head or a picture with you and the head. Nottin’ personal, jus’ wanna’ make sure Headly goes to hes rightful owner an’ all.
It's quite possible it was a spare.
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