Bad Day At the Rochester Fair

It was an early fall day, some decades ago, When three of my boys were still young. Looking forward that year to the Rochester Fair, An event that was always good fun. A promise from me I would transport them forth And attend this yearly event, Where the food and the rides and the animal barns, Made my limited cash seem well spent. The hour we chose was end of the day, When the last of the school bells had rung. I would pick them up there and we'd head for the fair Childish glee; I felt once again young! Things seemed to go well, the crowds being light, Working out as I'd carefully planned. But, it didn't take long for requests to be made, That would lead to the land of the dammed. "The fun house please, Mom", begged two oldest of three, Their plea was sincere and quite strong. To deny them this honest and heartfelt request, They assured me would simply be wrong. I thought for awhile and then finally gave in: Persuaded this once to agree. Pulled a dollar forthwith from my battered old purse, Handing over four times worth of fees. The fun house proved a rather long trailer, Adorned in graffiti and gold. It called to those kids, I was herding about, With great mysteries inside to behold. Loud speakers obscured noisy crowd din, Bidding all of those nearby to "Come in." In the many long years I had been to this fair Was the first I was tempted to go inside there. For I valued my money, as my mother had taught, While she'd warned me the fun house, simply was not: Scary and spooky, and fun to go through It should best be avoided (like back then) Asian Flu! But ignoring old warnings, my party of four, Trundled up a steep ramp through a rather slim door. As the loud speakers blared for more folks to come in We stepped into a blackness that made one's head spin. The darkness inside overwhelmed me . . it's true, As my kids disappeared all at once from my view. And I felt for the walls, as the passage grew slight: We were in a black maze meant to cause us a fright. The flooring below, sloped both upward then down, Leaving balance unsure, as feet groped for the ground. And my first thought just then, "keep the youngest boy near; While instructing the oldest, "Go ahead without fear!" But he stoutly refused . . shoved ahead number two, Who also demurred, as four fists quickly flew. My voice grew quite loud, thereby ending the fight, I'd have cuffed them both soundly, had they been in my sight. With one hand I grabbed hold of my youngest of sons, As the thought came to mind, "Where the hell is the fun"? From my lips came first threats, mingled with a mild curse, When the both of them whined . . let their brother go first. We just stood there and squabbled in the depths of the black. Could I see them they both would have gotten a smack, And I threatened we'd leave through the door we'd come in Back onto that midway, amidst the crowd din. We'd go home, yes go home, our good time at its end. I would end it before it could even begin! But still they refused to step into the maze As my patience got lost in a creeping red haze. Then as one of those boys was about to agree, The third one piped up; he just had to go pee. I gave up on the day with some hidden regret, Accepting the fact my threats had to be met. We went out the same door to a huge crowd below And they laughed and they clapped and I felt oh so low. The loud speaker that coaxed us, "Come in and have fun", Broadcast every last word, between myself and my sons. And the ramp to the ground, we'd gone up to get in, Seemed to go on forever, while descending just then. So in keeping my promise, we all left the town fair; Most embarrassed I'd felt, in my life, anywhere! Many years have gone by and it’s just an old tale, We all laugh when it's told; I no longer grow pale. But because of that day and the memories to come; I agree with my mother . . fun houses . . aren't fun! © 2016 Diane Lefebvre