Oh Mr. Clown, Oh Mr. Clown

[maskormods]

WHO: YOU.
WHERE: Heropa Greenland Park.
WHEN: Sunday August 17th, from 11AM to 10PM.
WHAT: ImPorts participate in the local carnival, hosting their own attractions, helping with the booths and rides, and/or come looking to have a good time. Details here.
WARNINGS: None anticipated; please let us know if this should be edited.

Even in the daytime, Heropa Greenland Park appears almost dour in appearance and atmosphere. Employees of the park open the creaky gates at a few minutes before 11:00AM to allow imPorts and soldiers who have been ordered as security inside. Preparations have already started, with thick and colorful streamers lining hanging from one rusty looking lamppost another along the park's pathway. The booths look a little worse for wear and the while an effort had been made the night before, the park grounds are still coated in soda spills, popcorn, leftover hot dog bits, and other sticky and grimy messes. Sometimes the lights in the event booths flicker or burst entirely.

Needless to say, this place looks like it can use a makeover. While it fares well among its locals and those from Cape Canaveral, it has not been a place of interest among others in the state for quite some time. Right now? It looks more creepy than wholesome family entertainment.

But that's what imPorts are here for, aren't they? To liven up the place!

At the heart of the park is where employees have made enough room as possible for imPorts to set up their own attractions, booths, and whatnot. There will be small platforms for some imPorts and bigger ones may need to be shared among each other, scheduling their time slots for their own performances. There will be tables should anyone need it for performances that don't require a grand stage.

By noon there the line-up park employees had been expecting turns out even better than they had hoped. There are twice as many locals who've shown up, eager to see imPorts in action up close. By 12:30PM the park is bustling with people of all ages and all appear to be having quite the time, despite the occasional issue with the rides such as the merry-go-round (oops, it slows down more than it should), the carousel (it stops at least once every two hours), and the haunted house's lights go down at some point, though this seems to have worked in its favor.

Kids are screaming in delight everywhere, there are teens trying to do risky things on faster moving rides, and everyone is passing through the center at some point to come and check out what imPorts are going to do next.

Put on your best face and give them a show they'll remember, heroes!

Comments

if it churns like buttah and it clogs arteries like buttah...

[infomodder]

She might have risked a look of disappointment if she were to voice that, that it might work as long as the cracks didn't spread. That Will didn't know what he was doing with this, that he didn't have the proper eye to know the booth could stand some raw sundering, a proper application of force. The guy who routinely broke dogs of all kinds could tell when an inanimate object couldn't handle something—a kindness that all went without remark.

Already dirty fingers busy themselves getting dirtier, feeling around the screw, a nail picking at a splintered bit sticking out. No matter how noisy and jarring it might have been, Will appears to approve of a job well done. It wasn't seamless but it didn't need to be, attached and done so as well as could be. He's still focusing on it when she speaks, doesn't look up until he's picked off that splintered bit. There's a scar now, small, on something that would serve much better if it were replaced entirely.

"Just gotta find other ways to cope." Thin, stretched, but a smile nonetheless. Will has issues with things being what they were but still not what they were at all, but he's well aware that he's lucky to have what experience he does, to know how lights function, how to fix a toilet if it makes certain noises, that he's familiar with what he considers basics even in his own world. "I spend more time with a dog in my bed than I used to."

He drinks more, too. Knows it, can't bring himself to stop when it's not yet a problem. It doesn't linger on his breath before, during, and after work. His clothes sport dog fur, nothing else. There is no going through his drawers desperately trying to find what he swore he'd hidden there just a week before. The stash of beer he once kept in his shop isn't always there. Not yet.

"This looks good to go."

He pops the battery off as he says it, eyes still on Annie. The booth doesn't needn't him.

(The booth probably wants him to go before he gets more ideas for it. The booth probably doesn't like him at all. Too bad for the booth that it has no feelings for him to absorb or ignore.)

Are we good to go?