'Ten Minutes Late for Reality' by Lou Morris (c) 1988, 1989, 1991, 2002, 2015. Forty-six:

Forty-six:

   "Oh... uh... damn.  Hmn... let's see... about oh--a... I
don't know... uh...  Oh, I give up!  Here's your stupid
prize."

                                 - What the poor Death
Adventure Games employee
working the "Guess Your
Weight" counter said when
he had to guess the weight
of a certain large
individual wearing
stretched tights and a
cape.


   "Well, bookbag," Mongo asked while replacing the Death
Adventure map he found a little while ago (sticking out of
someone's back pocket) into one of the many pockets in the
interior of his bookbag.  "Now where?"
   He removed his hand from the bag and looked quizzically
at the small snapshot that had somehow got into his grasp.  
It was a photograph of Death Adventure's very own children's
amusement park, Kiddie Krypt.
   "Wow, Bookie!" Mongo exclaimed.  "I was hoping that they
had a kiddie park!"  He swung his black buddy in front of
him, "After you, Bookie!"  They walked off in search of
Kiddie Krypt.


   A while later, Mongo threw down his crumpled Death
Adventure map.  "Stupid map!" he yelled, jumping up and down
on top of it.  Tourists walked around him, not noticing nor
caring.
   "I can't find it, bookbag," he sniffed.  "Do you know
where it is?"
   Another Death Adventure map appeared in his bookbag.  He
found it and ripped it up.  "No thanks, Bookie.  These maps
are defective."  He sighed, "I guess I'll go and ask
someone..."
   He walked over to a green building, hidden by a few large
trees, stuck between a pinball parlor and a burger barn.  On
closer inspection, Mongo realized that it was the public
bathrooms.  He walked over to the water fountains near the
front of the building, gave both himself and his bookbag a
drink of lukewarm Cassville water, threw away yet another
map--this one slightly wet, then walked towards the men's
room door.
   The door opened and Corbin Wick stepped out.  
"Righty-ho!" he said, dripping of eye juice and fresh blood.
   "Hello," Mongo said.  "My bookbag says hello, too."
   The Dead Eye blinked at the teenage twerp.  "Goonie
Goo-goo!" he replied.  He rubbed his strange looking left
eye.  It grew another few inches, splashing a little gunk
onto Mongo's bookbag.
   Mongo wiped some of the stuff off of his bookbag buddy,
then stared rudely at The Dead Eye's left eye.  "My, what a
big eye you have," he said with wonder.
   "The better to see you with, dude," The Dead Eye replied.
   "Do you know where Kiddie Krypt is?" Mongo asked
pleasantly.
   The Dead Eye smiled.  "Is this a trick question?" he
giggled.
   "Nope.  I wanna go on the kiddie roller coaster and the
kiddie Ferris wheel and the kiddie bumper cars and--"
   "Yeah, yeah, dude.  It's over that end of this park," he
randomly pointed towards the south end of the park near the
flume ride and the light gun shootout.  "Near that Ferris
wheel thing," he lied.
   Mongo thanked him then turned to walk away but hesitated
at the sight of the Ferris wheel in the opposite direction.  
He turned back, "Isn't that the Ferris wheel over there?"  He
pointed behind him.
   "Uh, yeah, but you gotta walk this way to get there."
   "Oh, okay," Mongo smiled.  He walked off.
   "Stupid retard," Corbin muttered.


    Along the way, Mongo happened upon the general manager
and owner of the amusement park, Mr. Way Rilliams.  Way
Rilliams was walking and talking with a group of bored
business students; he walked ahead of the group, describing
various facets of running the park.  Mongo followed them,
sticking close to the rear of the throng.
   "So, Mr. Rilliams," asked a young woman near the head of
the group, "Your advertisements say that employees can earn
up to seventeen dollars an hour working at your park.  Is
that true?"
   Way Rilliams stopped short.  "Of course it's true.  My
company does not lie.  Employees of this park can earn up to
seventeen dollars an hour."
   "Which type of employee earns seventeen dollars an hour?"
the girl asked.
   "I do.  Most of the other employees earn around four
bucks an hour."
   Another question, this time from a smallish nerd, "What
about your hiring practices for handicapped individuals?"
   "Oh, we train them for specialized tasks for which they
are completely capable of doing.  For example, the retards or
mentally challenged people are placed in the Food Service
department, Grounds Keeping and Cleaning, and Public
Relations."
   "What about blind people?"
   "Ride Safety and Operations," Way answered.
   "People in wheelchairs and hostile convicts?"
   "Park Security."
   "How about the hearing impaired?"
   "Telephone Assistance."
   Mongo wandered away.


   Somehow Mongo actually found the kiddie park, after
walking, at The Dead Eye's direction, half way around the
entire amusement park, passing the Ferris wheel twice.
   "Wow!" Mongo cheered.  It had a little Ferris wheel and a
little roller coaster and a little bumper cars and a little
boat ride and a--well, you get the picture.
   He climbed through the rope entwined entrance bridge and
ran towards the little Ferris wheel.  He waited on line with
a bunch of young kids, like a tall corn sprout at the end of
a row of lettuce heads.
   "Wee!" yelled some of the little youngsters on the ride
as Mongo stood on line.  A few of the older kids yelled
obscenities, contrary to the family park theme.  Mongo waited
patiently for his turn on the ride, chatting excitedly with
his bookbag.
   Soon, the Ferris wheel stopped and all the children got
off, running towards the next attraction.  The beginning of
the waiting line into the Ferris wheel soon dribbled into the
entrance, children clamoring onto each of the swinging cars.
   Mongo stepped closer and closer to the entrance,
following the line of youths.  Soon it was his turn to board
the wheel.
   The ride attendant blocked the entrance with her height
stick as Mongo was about to step through.  "Aren't you a bit
old for this?" she smirked sarcastically.
   Mongo blinked.  "What?"
   "Uh, you gotta be a little kid to get on these rides."  
She measured him with her four foot height stick, just for
fun.  Mongo exceeded the top by at least a foot and a half.
   "But..." Mongo said, tearing.
   "How old are you?  Twenty?"  She saw his tears, "Oh, if
you really want to get on a kiddie ride, I think they'll let
you on the bumper cars.  Just say your with your son or your
little brother or something..."  She pointed at the kiddie
bumper cars ride.
   Mongo quickly smiled.  "Okay..."  He skipped out the exit
and trotted over to the bumper cars.
   The waiting line for this ride was a bit longer, since
most kids like this ride best.  Most adults also like this
ride, which often hampers their real life driving ability to
some extent, especially in parking lots.
   Mongo waited and waited, watching ten cars bang into each
other, much like most New York city streets or car chase
scenes, just without any damage to the driver or to the car.
   A half hour later, Mongo stepped up to the entrance, only
to be stopped again by a ride attendant.  "You can't bring
that bag on the ride," the teenager said.  He pointed at
Mongo's bookbag buddy.
   "What?!" Mongo yelped.
   "Uh, you can't bring that on this ride..."
   Mongo froze.  He didn't know what to do.
   "Give me the bag and I'll put over here on the side.  Or
you won't be able to get on."
   Mongo wanted so badly to get on, but he couldn't leave
his best friend behind.  "But I want to bring him on the
ride!" he yelled.
   "No," the attendant said calmly.  He had to keep his
temper down, lest one of those undercover security jerks see
him yelling at a guest.  If I got caught, that would be the
end of this easy job, he thought.  "Please exit the ride," he
instructed.
   "No!  I wanna ride!"  Mongo grew furious, his face the
color of Kaye-Boom's underwear.
   "Get off or I'll call security!" the D.A. employee
yelled, finally getting sick of staying calm.
   "I hate you!!  I hate this whole park!!"  He ran out the
exit, crying.
   Mongo ran to the nearest park bench and slammed himself
down.  He cried and stamped his feet.  He reached inside and
pulled out his gun.  "I should've blown his face off!" he
screamed through tears.
   Except for a "Wow!" from a little kid and a few comments
like, "See that?  You act like that and we'll leave you
here," and "They're making those toy guns more realistic
every day," Mongo was basically ignored.
   "Even worse than that," Mongo sniffed, more tears than
rage.  "I wish..." he said putting his gun away.  "I wish I
could blow up this whole park."
   He tried to pick up his buddy for a hug but it suddenly
was far too heavy to lift.  He wiped away a few tears and
peered inside.
   Inside, by some strange twist of reality, were about two
dozen remote controlled time-bombs.  All the size and shape
of a television remote control except that they had plastic
explosives tucked in the backside and an electronic digital
timer protruding through the front.  And all had the
destructive capacity to reduce any modest sized building to
prefabricated splinters, staples and glue chunks.
   Mongo withdrew one and examined it.  He knew what it was
and imagined what it could do.  Then he imagined what he
could do with it...
   He smiled.