Ride to Live, Live to Ride

(STEEL)

“Cocksucker, watch what you’re doing!” Whiskey yells, snapping his hand away from the Ferris wheel car and shaking it.

“Kill it, Whiskey,” I say. “I know what the fuck I’m doing better than anyone here. Pay attention, you might learn something.” I’ve spent ten years in the carnival, there’s nothing I don’t know better than everyone else here.

“If you know what you’re doing, why’d you push it when my finger was still in the slots?” Whiskey says, pushing his long hair away from his eyes.

“Shithead, even greenies know not to stick their finger in the slots. That is what a screwdriver’s for.” I grunt as I adjust the hundred-pound pig iron in my hands.

“What’s the matter, Steel? Whiskey high already?” Razor asks from the other side of the half-assembled Ferris wheel. He’s my closest buddy. He’s like a brother, but I don’t even know his real name. When you join the carnival, real names are left at the gate.

“Shit, seriously? I thought you were just hungover like the rest of us. This ride’s a bitch to put up. What the fuck are you doing spliffing up before we get it together?” I say, dropping the heavy piece of metal. I wipe my sweaty forehead, getting a whiff of the diesel and grease on my hands.

“Whiskey, you better not let Papa Smurf find out you’re working fucked up. He’ll slough your ass so fast you’ll be stuck in this town begging for bus fare,” Razor says, walking over to us. His short brown hair is soaked in sweat from busting his ass all morning.

“Like I’m supposed to believe you two fuckups never do?” Whiskey says, his bloodshot eyes moving between Razor and me.

“Not in the morning,” I say.

Razor laughs. “At least not on mornings we’re working.”

“You guys are full of shit,” Whiskey says.

“Go get Zombie, I’ve had enough of you today,” I say, shoving Whiskey’s shoulder and sending him scrambling.

“Fuck you, man.” Whiskey collects himself and saunters away. He’s so stoned, it’d be faster for me to walk to the bunkhouse and back several times.

“Come on, Razor, work with me. I want time to shower before it’s beer o’clock.”

Razor and I get on with our work. I’m surprised how fast Zombie appears, and after busting our balls for eight hours, we finish assembling the wheel.

“Safety check,” I say. As if.

I hook my hand around the outer frame and hop up, landing with my feet on the radial strut. Like a monkey, I make my way up the side of the wheel, stopping at various points to examine the lights.

When I’m near the top, I swing myself into the red car. Sitting, I pull off my sweaty Metallica T-shirt and use it to dry my face before letting it drop to the ground. It feels good to sit down for the first time since breakfast.

It’s great up here. I can see all over this shitty little town. I don’t even know what it’s called. I don’t care about nothing, and number one on the list of things I don’t care about is the name of the town we’re in.

The Golden Arches tower over the place. It’s not quite a one-light town, but close.

Most of the houses are average, full of average rubes with average lives. Lives full of nine to five, bills and debt collectors. Fuck that shit, I need my freedom.

My life is all right. I work hard, but it’s not nine-to-five bullshit. I have a place to lay my head, food in my belly and every day is a different adventure. That’s about all I need in life.

I turn my head in the other direction. East of the park we’re in, there’s a cluster of big houses. You can even see their perfect lives from here. Now that’s something I might consider leaving this life for.

It’s actually a pretty nice town. I’ve seen a lot worse.

“Steel! You think we’re going to stand around busting our asses while you have a chill-out session?” Razor yells.

“I’m doing a safety check,” I say, banging my fist against the metal car.

The car jolts and the wheel flies into action, hurling me and the car forwards. I lean back into the corner of the seat, rest my arm across the back and put my feet up on the edge. I know these shitheads, this wheel ain’t stopping any time soon.

“I hope you assholes are having as much fun as I am,” I shout as my car passes the lowest point of the wheel.

“Hold on,” Razor grins as he leans on the speed lever.

The wheel speeds up to near its maximum. Any townie would be puking right now, but I’m used to it.

For this town, the Ferris wheel is at the back corner of the lot. The carnival is set up so you enter and walk down the midway, then loop to the right for the rides. It’s pretty much a big circle. Little kiddie rides at the front, shakers at the back.

The rides and midway are taking shape. Most of the big stuff is up, it’s just the little things left for tomorrow. The ticket booths, the matting, and we have to check every single damn light bulb. That’s a pain-in-the-ass job.

It’s empty now, waiting for the crowds to fill it up. I always get a kick out of the happiness on the little kiddies’ faces, and I get a lot of joy out of the local girls who are happy to spread their legs for a carny.

There’s nothing better than a rough fucker like me corrupting the local pastor’s daughter.

“I’m enjoying my sunset ride, assholes!” I yell to no one in particular.

The ride comes to an abrupt stop, my car wildly swinging back and forth.

“Get your ass down here and work,” Razor yells.

“Papa Smurf said we’re finished at sundown tonight, woo-hoo!” I holler at them.

I’m at two o’clock on the wheel. The car’s still swinging, but I hop up and grab onto the wheel’s framework.

“About time,” Razor says and starts the wheel moving again, although not at full tilt this time.

I tighten my grip on the strut and get my feet ready to take the change in direction as we go over the apex of the wheel.

With my feet nestled in the joint of the frame, I hold on with one hand and lean way out. As we come to the bottom of the arc, I hop off. Without breaking my stride, I walk towards the carny cafeteria.

My stomach groans as I near the greasy goodness smell of burgers and fries. I normally heat up some ramen noodles in my bunkhouse cabin, but Wednesdays are rough work and I always treat myself to the mess tent for dinner. Somehow dollar store food isn’t enough when you’ve been chucking heavy pig irons around all day.

“Evening, Cess,” I say as I reach the line-up for grub.

Cess turns to me and smiles. She always did have a welcoming smile. Welcoming everyone and anyone to her pussy. Though she must be over thirty now, as her age is starting to show. The straggly blah-brown hair doesn’t help her looks.

“Hey Steel, feel like visiting tonight?”

“I’m good.”

“You sure didn’t think like that when you joined us as a little virgin teenager.”

I roll my eyes. That was ten years ago, I’ve had hundreds of pussies since, and I’ll still never hear the end of being a virgin when I joined the carnival at seventeen. A guy doesn’t get much chance to lose his virginity while he’s in juvie, at least not to a female.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why don’t you come and see me tonight?”

Because I don’t need to touch the lot lizard is why. “Fuck, Cess, you know I’m all about local pussy. I’m going to find myself a pretty blonde this week.”