Chaos Park

Swirling throngs of children last night at the concert-in-the-park. Everyone brought fabulous food – except me, I brought fish crackers and the tail end of a bag of chips – how lame is that?!

There was a teenager making balloon-shapes very competently. He made a little more than 1 balloon a minute for a dollar a balloon… about 3 every 2 minutes. It was amazing.

Moomin ran about happily with his balloon-sword, fighting in fine style with one hand on his hip, shaking his ass to the funky music of the very loud cover band, and retreating backwards as more and more 4 foot high kids beset him. I like it when he whirls and leaps and then lands on his feet with the sword extended, yelling “HA!” (A thing I’ve demonstrated many times, but he does it with way more panache than I can muster — he studies D@nny Kaye.) It is Time for the Fred Astaire movies.

I gave Sophie a dollar for a balloon and me and Jo watched the legendarily lawyer-like Iz talk her out of it. We could not stop laughing for a long time as we cautioned Sophie about confidence tricks, fraud, sweet-talking women, begging techniques, and more. I think that her cousin C. listened with all ears open to my advice on begging, with its 3 main principles:

1). Ask the dads. They are soft touches. This means they’re suckers.
2). Always ask for at least 5 times more than you actually want. Put on a bold front and ask for 5 dollars. Or 10! Dads don’t know what a balloon costs.
3). Say winningly that you want the money to buy balloons for all your friends. It makes you look generous and kind instead of greedy.

Jo and I burst into spontaneous bump and grind dancing during I think “lady marmalade” or whatever that song is where they’re going on about “hey sister soul sister” and then some mildly suggestive french propositioning. I think we might have burned the eyeballs out of some people.

I also alienated some random dad during this scene:

Me and Random Dad (standing there neear balloon man waiting endlessly)
Throng of kids
tiny blond girl, maybe 2 years old, in pink dress

Tiny (lispingly, batting eyelashes): Can I have a dowwa for a bawwoon?
Me: Um, sorry… no… *pat on head*
Tiny: (to Random Dad, tugging on his pants): Excuse me, can I have a dowwa for a bawwoon?
R.D.: Uh, sorry I don’t have any more dollars. (huge lie)
Me and R.D.: She’s not yours?
Me and R.D.: Nope. No, not mine.
*we look around and see no obvious parent of the begging tot*
Me: Actually, I’m running her by remote. Net profit a hundred bucks an hour. When she gets a dollar, I send a jolt directly to the pleasure center of her brain.
R.D.: *Looks away, pretends not to hear me, looks faintly nauseated, sidles in other direction*
Me: (thinking) Did I cross the line?

Today:

Milbrae. Cafe. Translating. Red comes down on the train to visit! Chula comes down on the train on her way out of town! There will be dim sum and maybe the chinese bookstore if we have time.

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5 Responses to “Chaos Park”

  1. Severin



    Funny!

  2. whump



    Naw, you didn’t cross a line. That dad’s under the mistaken impression that wit, satire, and irony were banned for the duration of the War on Everything.

  3. squid



    Iz. Goddammit! Sophie hit me up for a dollar, so I hope it all balances out.

  4. Jo



    Gichie Gichie ya ya heyyyy!

  5. Prentiss Riddle



    It’s the Stepford Toddlers!

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