The four year old, heard loud and clear, his father's unspoken words, that if he wandered off, even a few paces...his hiney would know about it, real quick. His dad disappeared for a moment into the crowd of queues waiting to order either/or funnel cakes, nachos, sno-cones, meatball subs, walking salads... "Mom," the boy pointed at an ice-cream truck. "Can I have a..." The boy's mom, tightening her grip just a bit, on her son's hand, as the crowd began pulling in another direction. "No honey, we're gonna get supper first, when daddy gets back." The boy wrinkled his face. He wasn't interested in having to eat, and finish, a fishwich or a burger; he just wanted a big cone of cookies-n-cream.
Something wasn't right, and she'd seen it in her husband's eyes, here of late. He'd been acting different. And whatever was the big deal was, about her having arrived home a bit late from wally-world? Man, he was starting to sound like that guy on u-teevee. And yet, she knew her husband well enough to know, there was something...well, creepy going on.
Hardly five minutes passed when her husband reappeared. "Let's get some grub," cowboy extended his hand toward a pulled-pork vendor. The family headed in that direction.
At the other end of the food area, Ellen was on the lookout for unaccompanied children. She had spotted and began to track a rather unkempt little boy, but as her luck - here of late - would have it, the boy's equally unkempt father found him, and whacked his bottom, for having wandered off. The two then headed toward one of the food lines.
The parade would begin in about an hour. And the pickings would be even less, since the little b*tards would be with a parent, or parents - their young eyes focused on the baton twirlers, drummers, trumpeters, clowns, and a fleet of theme floats.
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