The Carnival (when the rush comes)

I love carnivals. The buzz, and the excitement of it all. The creepy carnies in their filthy get-ups trying to swindle little kids out of their last nickel. The rigged carnival games. Throwing blunted darts at under-full water balloons, or baseballs at wooden milk bottles. The best game was always the one where you'd line up shoulder to shoulder with all the other kids and shoot a water gun into a clown's open mouth, inflating a balloon above the clown's head until it popped.

I was great at that game. I still am.

I went to confession after Sunday mass. The church is hard up for money these days. Kids are too busy being promiscuous little miscreants to respect the Lord. And men have moved on, worshiping charlatans and whores. I won't write here about what sins I disclosed to Father Baker, but I did give him $100 to help the church and to hold his mouth open so I could piss into it, like the clown game.

What a rush.