The Monstrosity In My Back Yard

1:02 PM
Well. I've had a look out the back of the library and I've caught sight of that horrible carnival. Despicable. All those tents and rides and things. Will I go? I shall NOT!

4:00 PM
I have left the library to Macy. She'll close it up at 5.

4:02 PM
I think I'll take the long way home. A nice long walk will be good for me. I'll leave the bike here at the library.

4:05 PM
So my long walk home, unfortunately, goes through the carnival. I shall just have to put up with it.

4:10 PM
There's a big purple tent with embroidery all over it in the middle of the carnival. A long line of people are snaked out behind it; I wonder what's inside the tent?
"Excuse me, but what's inside that tent?" I asked, tapping a young man in line. He looked over and whispered,
"The medium is in there." I could barely hear him, he spoke so softly. He gave me a frighteningly intense look and turned back to face the person in front of him in line. The medium? What's the medium?

4:12 PM
Does the tent have the large and small, too?

4:13 PM
I think I'll wait and find out. It can't do any harm. I have a while before it gets too dark, anyways. I'm getting in line.

4:15 PM
I'm in line now. There's a scary young lady in front of me. She looks a bit...chilly.

4:17 PM
Really chilly, actually. I'm not sure if those things constitute as clothes. More like...bits of black handkerchief...held together with lace...

4:20 PM
I asked her if she was cold. She told me I was a creepy old woman. The nerve! I have half a mind to leave this line right now and never mess with this 'medium' of theirs. Ha! There are lots of medium things. I won't be missing anything.

4:40 PM
It's my turn! I can go in the tent! I'm going to find out what a medium is!! Wait until I tell my cats.

4:41 PM
It's a batty little woman in a black cape and with frizzy hair. I'm going to write a letter of complaint. Who runs these horrid little sideshow festivals, anyways? I waited half an hour in line for this?! She's telling me to sit down.

4:45 PM
So it turns out she's a fortune teller. She's even got a crystal ball. It's kind of a smoky-looking crystal. I can see her batty reflection in it.
I used to have a crystal ball like this in my garden in Texas. It was a bauble that caught the sunlight and reflected it into a thousand different spears of color. I had a large garden, before I lived in Sunnydene Retirement home. It had irises and morning glory and moonflower vines. And lots of violets. I do love violets. I also kept a sign in the yard that said, "R.I.P. : Here lie all the people that ever stepped foot in my lawn."
I never had any trouble with those pesky little neighborhood children, either. I did when I was in the home, though; they called it 'charity work,' but I don't see what's so charitable about some school forcing a bus load of elementary school children into an old person's home and telling them to be 'kind' and 'helpful.' If I ever have to listen to another chorus of little children sing happy songs like "This Little Light of Mine," I shall shoot them with my dart gun.

4:50 PM
But I digress. This medium woman--and that's actually quite a good description, she's neither short nor tall--says she's seen something in the crystal ball. Impressive. All I see is more rock.
"You will meet a dark stranger!" She sounds like a frog with a throat infection. "I foresee love!" I expect her to ribbet any time now. "Deep, passionate love!" Does she realize how old I am? Passionate love, indeed.

5:30 PM
Home at last. I told all the cats what happened to me. The medium lady asked me for money afterwards. The gall! All she did was spout garbage. If I weren't a lady, I'd say she spouted absolute shi--but I'm a lady, and I shan't say it. I shall tell Macy to not bother to go to the carnival. It will be a waste of her money.
Funnily enough, I saw something odd on my way home. It was raining--surprise, surprise; I don't believe the sky has taken a break from dripping like my plumbing for a solid month--and I saw a man fall down to the ground and start vomiting.

5:35 PM
You know what I think? I think he ate meat from that butcher shop. I felt a bit peaky from just smelling the place. I didn't say anything to the man; no telling where he'd been. Other than the butcher shop, of course.

5:38 PM
MY CEILING IS LEAKING! No. I refuse to be damp. The ceiling cannot be leaking. I'm not even on the top floor. How can a ceiling leak if the rain can't get to it?
The water is getting all over my sofa. This is unacceptable. Perhaps if I put my umbrella--

5:45 PM
Wonderful. My umbrella is stuck in the ceiling. The spokes are jammed up in the vent.

5:46 PM
And the ceiling is still leaking. I'm calling maintenance.

5:50 PM
OF COURSE NO ONE ANSWERED. I will die old and alone of pneumonia. My body will rot away and my cats will be forced to eat me because no one will be here to look after them. Then one day, someone will axe down the door because I haven't payed my rent. And they'll find my skeleton, floating in a puddle of dripped rainwater. THEN they'll be sorry. And my cats will be so starved that they'll eat them. Good. They deserve it.

5: 59 PM
That's it. I'm going to go down to the first floor and FINDING someone to fix my ceiling. I've got my extra set of dentures to clack at people who get in my way. For some reason, they tend to disturb people.

6:10 PM
I waited for the elevator to come, and when it did, it clattered and the doors opened, but the elevator box hadn't come level with the floor--it's below where it was supposed to be, about three-quarters over the rim of the floor. The little coffee man, Altan whatsit--I don't think I can pronounce his last name--is in it. And his coffee cart.
"Hallo." I greeted him, but he doesn't look like he's in the mood to reply. Perhaps he doesn't understand English all that well; I've never had an actual conversation with him.
"HAL-LO!" When in doubt, speak louder and slower. Foreign people understand better that way. And indeed, he nodded and greeted me, by name, no less. He appears to know everyone's name. Now that I think of it, I'd seen him at the entrance of the carnival, selling coffee--he hadn't seemed to be making much money.
"WOULD YOU LIKE OUT? OUT EL-E-VA-TOR?!" I nodded and smiled, and he started nodding and smiling, too. I wonder if he's a simpleton.

6:15 PM
Good heavens, his cart is heavy. I'm pulling and he's pushing and lifting, but it certainly weighs more than I do. Uffda! There it is. All safe and sound. Perhaps I should help him up, too? He looks elderly.
Good heavens. He's heavy, too. What is it with all these heavy things? He's nearly pulled me in the elevator with him.
Ok, here we go.
"Thank-you Ms. Evans," he said. A gentlemanly simpleton. "Can I do anything for you? Would you like some coffee?" He looks so hopeful. "On the house." And now he looks depressed. What an odd little man.
OH! I have an idea.

6:20 PM
"Mr. Altan... I don't suppose you know anything about ceilings?" Well, it's a better bet than asking the idiots at the front desk. With any luck, he'll know more about ceilings than 'they go above our heads,' and 'they're not supposed to leak.'