Two young boys–one eleven years old, the other twelve–walk on either side of their father, each holding one meaty hand. Lights blaze around them. Ferris wheels spin. Carnival barkers bark.Link
They do this every year, because every year the carnival comes to their town, and their father brings them here, doing his fatherly duty, spending time with his sons.
For one of the boys, the carnival is always the best thing to happen all year; the other boy is a little afraid of the carnival's presence. He wishes they wouldn't go so much. Sometimes he wishes they wouldn't go at all.