The 1971 Duckberg Fair

>>> Note: Fragments of a longer, as-yet unfinished, MS. As tradition
>>> dictates, a couple of weeks before AFTSD I drag it out, start
>>> editing, and then give up. This year I decided to at least post
>>> a couple of the more-nearly-finished bits.

The 1971 Duckberg Fair
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It's the last one to be held at the old city fairgrounds. Next year this
time the midway will be replaced by the oh-so-cruelly-named Fairground
Plaza Shopping Center, the arts and crafts pavilion, painted inside and
out with scenes of everyday life in Southside Virginia, bulldozed to
make way for a Key-Rex Drugs, Cards 'n' Such, Shakey's.

Each day after school young Maz walks down Apollo Avenue to the main
gate and shows his exhibitor badge. Once every couple of hours he fires
up the old ElectroVoice and hand-wiggles his way through a 10-minute
puppet show hawking next year's Children's Theater season. Otherwise,
he's free to roam the fair; check out the 4H exhibits; ride rides; watch
the plate spinners, motorcycle daredevils, country musicians; marvel at
the serpent with the head of a woman, Bigfoot in ice, a geek in a
snake-pit, the man with two faces, the giant rat of Sumatra....

Maz thinks the best time of the day is at dusk, when there's still a
pure blue light from the sky--Duckberg being once renown for having the
most beautiful sunsets in the world... until the textile mills shifted
from coal to hydroelectric--but it's dark enough for the midway to start
shining through. If he times it right, he can be on the skyride--
ski-lift cars running up one side of the strand and down the other--just
as the sun drops behind the hills.

On the last night of the fair, as Maz comes up the first leg of the
trip, he notices a large crowd on the midway ahead of him. It looks like
the girlie show is about to begin! In harem outfits, go-go dresses, or
burlesque costumes, the dancers parade in front of the crowd--shimmying
or jiggling for a few seconds, each according to her ability--while the
barker barks.

One dancer in particular burns her way into his brain. Auburn hair cut
in the style eternalized on page 19 of "New Hairstyles for 1967"; long,
long lashes; a glorious smile. And, most important, she's in skimpy
black panties and a low-cut bra trimmed down almost to the top of her
nipples, revealing an astounding expanse of cream-colored flesh.
Laughing, she dances along the catwalk, twirling and snapping her
fingers.

High overhead, Maz watches in amazement, twisting to stare as his car
glides past, nearly slipping from the slippery fiberglass seat as he
turns.

As the gondola touches down, *bang!* he's out of the chair and around to
the other line, ticket in hand, impatiently waiting as high-school
couples and underage smokers file on, two-by-two. Finally, he presses
himself into a seat, fastens the chain across his lap, and takes off.

But when he passes back over the midway, the crowd is gone. From inside
the tent he hears music, laughter. Outside is nothing but dropped
popcorn, a spilled drink, a young couple hurrying their curious son past
the 20-foot-high canvas dancing girls. As the burlesque show disappears
behind a pylon, the last thing Maz sees is the barker, hunched over his
podium, counting tickets.