The fair was in town and I couldn't wait any longer. Each mile we passed in the car my anxiety grew thicker and the butterflies in my stomach started feeling like they had razor blades for wings.

When I was about to get a second taste of this morning's breakfast I caught a glimpse of the tip of the zipper, my favorite ride. I almost screamed, but stopped myself in time to only let out a small yelp of excitement.

After being stamped like a package, I glided forward towards the alluring sent of deep-fried heart attack. Elephant ears, funnel cakes, deep fried cheese on a stick, all of it sounded amazing. After all, it wasn't fair food unless you clenched your chest after each bite.

I handed my money to the man and gladly took my prize of funnel cake goodness. I stripped off a piece of the crusty dough drowning in powdered sugar and ripped through it like a barbaric caveman.

Finishing off my once a year sin, I attempted to wipe the white spots off my shirt. Note to self: don't wear a black shirt to the fair next year. It turned to a smeared tie-die gray, and after staring at it as if it were the plague for a few moments I decided it had a 'grunge-hippie' look to it.

But, it would look better with some more white, I should even it out, I thought to myself. Skimming the food booth, I went for the elephant ear.

I smiled after each bite, remembering the time when I was little and I asked my uncle if elephant ears were really elephant ears. I got the reply "Yea, your eating Dumbo's ear right now."

I cried. He felt bad. I got the truth and a caramel apple. In my opinion, it all worked out fine.

I was interrupted of my flash back by a loud whistling sound that lapped at my ears. I was just wondering around without realizing I stumbled onto my favorite ride, the Zipper.

It was a piece of art. You sat in a closed box with a partner and buckled in, with sweaty palms holding onto the cold bars. The person who helped you in would 9 out of 10 times spin you in it before the ride started. It didn't spin in a horizontal circle, no. It flipped you upside down and back up before you could finish a blink. Then, when is started, it would go around in a larger flipping circle, well more like an oval really.

I practically finished Dumbo's ear in one bite and ran to the ticket booth. In one swift move I grabbed my friend's hand, gave the man the tickets, shoved her inside, sat down, and put on our belt. She was even afraid of heights and I was too fast to let her respond. Hot dog, I'm good.

The ride jerked with each new person that got on. I knew this was probably a metal death trap by how old and rusty it was, but I couldn't have cared less.

I looked over. My friend was giving me the same look she did last year, and the year before, and the year before that when I did the exact same thing.

"You know, it's your own fault for coming with me. I do it every year and you know its coming. Just close your eyes and tough it up."

She just sighed and grabbed tighter on the metal bar. If she wasn't shaking I would have thought it was going to have grip marks by the time we got off.

We finally heard the loud siren and the more swift movement of the ride. I could feel the drop and spin of our metal cage, it had started.

I could feel the wind plastering some of the hair to my forehead, then realizing it when we were upside down. The faster we got the less my hair was towards my shoulders. I became weightless, just spinning and floating in air.

Closing my eyes, I could hear my friends death screams fade out and the sound of whooshing wind at my ears. There was nothing better then this. The freedom it gave me, the thrill and adrenaline pumping through my veins. I never wanted to move from that spot.

It slowed to a stop, back to reality. Stepping out my friend ran to the trash can and did her thing. I just stood in amazement for a few moments and then tried to calm down my new afro that formed on the ride.

I smiled at her and offered to go on the yo-yo. It was a kitty ride, boring, and pointless to me. Just a giant swing set, but I knew it was her favorite.

Written for English.
The idea was to write about the fair last year
and use insane amounts of imagery on a short story.
very short story.

I'll do the same.