Before Closing

by Rambling Writer

5:02 PM - Midway

“You wanna play one of these games?” Aegis asked.

“No, not really. You can, I’ll just watch.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, nudging me in the ribs. “It’ll be fun.”

“No, it won’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

After a few rounds of “What do you want to do?” “I dunno, what do you want to do?” “I dunno, what…”, we’d wandered onto the midway, lights flashing and ponies yelling all around us. There were stands upon stands of carnival games, each of them with at least a small line. This was one of the carnival’s last days here, so it was quite busy. There were a lot of foals, especially; more than once, a filly or a colt or several had run between us, generally swiftly followed by a flustered and very apologetic parent or two. Smells wafted over from the food court, smells of lettuce and flowers and hay and more deluxe plants. The whole place sat on the edge between busy and mellow.

I was leaning towards mellow. Aegis was leaning towards busy. He chuckled. “What, are carnival games serious business?”

“I… I lost a lot of money to them when I was a filly, okay?” I rubbed my neck and looked away. “Each year, I could’ve bought some cotton candy or something, but I always told myself I could win that giant plush manticore, and I never did.” I don’t know why I just went and told him that. Maybe because after tonight, I’d never see him again. It’s a bit easier to spill your guts to a complete stranger when you know for a fact you’ll never run into them again.

Aegis stopped walked and stared at me, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “You have a grudge against carnival games?”

I nodded glumly and braced myself for the laughter.

It didn’t come, or at least not as much as I’d thought it would. Aegis chuckled, but that was it. “I can see that. I still don’t like zucchini because of that one summer Dad tried growing some and it worked way too well and we wound up with zucchini for dinner every other night. But come on, you’re older and better now. You’re telling me you’re not going to try one now?”

“It’s not just that. They’re rigged,” I muttered. “All of them. Well, most of them.”

“They always say that,” Aegis huffed, waving a hoof, “but it’s-”

“No, really,” I said seriously. I glanced around, trying to find a way to demonstrate to him. “Like, take a look at that ring toss game right over there.” I pointed to a brightly-colored booth where the proprietor was about to show how the game worked to her next set of victims, I mean players. Actually, no, I totally mean victims.

Aegis glanced at me, then shrugged and turned his attention to the booth. “Yeah?”

“Look at the angle the rings make when the carny puts them over the peg.”

We both watched in silence as said carny dropped a ring onto the peg from behind to show how easy it was. She even did it several times, to prove she hadn’t gotten lucky the first time.

Aegis frowned. “I don’t see it.”

“The lower edge is towards her, towards the back of the booth, away from the throwers.”

“So?”

“Now watch the ponies try, and see whether the front or back edge is lower when they toss it.”

The ponies collectively tossed their rings, one after the other. None of them made it, every single ring bouncing off the peg. As the carny consoled them on their loss, Aegis shrugged and said, “The edge closer to them was lower. So?”

And finally, the coup de grâce. I said, “Now, take a look at the top of the peg.”

Aegis rolled his eyes, but looked anyway. When he saw it, his jaw dropped. “Oh, wow,” he whispered, “that’s… that’s evil. They’ve got like twice the area to fit the ring around as the carny when she demonstrates.”

The top of the peg was sloped towards the contestants. It was angled in such a way that made it easy for the carny to put her ring over it, but made it incredibly tricky for a customer to get it to fit on. And the peg itself was just large enough that the rings could barely fit over it to begin with.

“Uh-huh,” I said with a nod. “Why do you think they give you so many rings? And why the prizes are so valuable? Because, in all likelihood, you’re not going to win. It’s like a casino: the house always wins.”

“Dang,” muttered Aegis. He turned to me. “So what about other things? Like, um…” He glanced around the midway and zeroed in on a particular booth. “That tub toss game. That one right there.” It was one of those simple games where you just try to toss balls into angled peach baskets.

As luck would have it, it was about to be demonstrated just as he pointed. “Alright,” I said. “Watch the demo and tell me what you see.”

He nodded and watched intently. I was surprised at how seriously he was taking this; I would’ve expected him to just take a look, go “weird”, and move on. Because, well, they’re carnival games. Not exactly the most interesting of topics. I only knew how they worked because I’d been coming here annually for over a decade. When you do that, you start to notice some things, especially when you’re in your cynical teenager phase and actively try to find bad stuff everywhere because they kept denying you that giant plush manticore when you were younger. It was nice, seeing someone who was listening to the silly things I had to say.

That, or he was in that state of supreme boredom where anything and everything is interesting. And if he was, I can only hope it was from the Marris wheel.

Once the demo was over, Aegis turned back to me and shrugged helplessly. “I, I don’t see it. The carny throws the ball into the tub, it sticks, he lets the player throw a practice ball into the tub, it sticks, the player hands over their bits, the balls don’t stick anymore.”

I grinned, but just barely managed to keep it from being a self-satisfied “I know more than you do” smirk. “That’s not everything,” I said. “The carny tosses the ball into the tub from in front of the line, not behind the line, like the players.”

“That would make it easier for him,” Aegis mumbled. Probably just voicing his thoughts. “But for the prac-” His eyes lit up. “When the players practice, he leaves the first ball in the tub, and it makes the players’ balls bounce differently, keeping them in. But once they actually start playing, he takes the balls out and it’s more likely that they’ll bounce.”

“Exactly,” I said with a nod. “It’s even simpler than the ring toss, once you see it. Although this one, you’re more likely to win than the rings. Don’t try to bounce it off the back-” One unlucky player did just that and the ball bounced right back out. “-and instead aim for the leading edge. It’ll make the ball lose speed and be more likely to stay inside.”

“You’re the go-to gal for keeping your bits at a carnival, ain’tcha?”

“I’ve been here a while. I know what to look for.”

“So are there games here that aren’t rigged? Like, say…” Aegis looked around a little. “…the ladder climb?”

“Actually, I think that one’s completely legit,” I said after some thought. “It’s hard, yeah, but once you know how to do it, you can do it all the time.” Once I’d figured out the secret, I’d actually been banned from one booth after winning it three times in a row. I’d walked away with several giant plush manticores. It was a good feeling; it felt like revenge on the other games for all those other times I’d lost I was too old for the toys by then, but they made great birthday presents for my little siblings.

And, okay, I kept one. Still have it, even. C’mon, those things are really smooshy, a lot cuter than they have any right to be, and make for great pillows.

Aegis cocked a grin at me. “Bet I could beat you on that.”

Oh, no, he did not just say that. No way, no how. I couldn’t let that stand. “Bet you couldn’t,” I shot back, smirking a little.

“You’re on. Loser pays for winner’s climb?”

“Deal,” I said. He wouldn’t know what hit him.

We reached the game during a lull, with two empty ladders right next to each other. A sign proclaimed: 1 CLIMB, 1 BIT. +2 CLIMBS FOR EACH EXTRA BIT. Compared to some of the other booths, this one was surprisingly subdued; yeah, it had a lot of reds and whites, but the shades it used were cooler. I guess in a place where everything’s loud, being quiet can get you more attention. The ladders here were a bit longer than the ones I was used to, but the technique would be the same.

Aegis and I dropped down four bits each. We took up spots at the bottom of each ladder and grinned at each other. “See you at the bottom,” I said.

His grin was wide and cocksure, although it felt a little like he was playing it up. “Only because I’ll be there already,” he responded, and started up the ladder.

I immediately knew I’d win. Aegis put his hooves on the rungs of the ladder and scrambled up reasonably quickly, but you never go for the rungs on the ladder climb. They’ll unbalance you. Sure enough, Aegis was halfway up when the bouncing got too much for him to handle and the ladder spun over. He quickly hooked his hooves around the rungs and kept himself from falling down, but it’d only be a matter of time before he lost his grip.

I went slow. The technique’s easy: keep your hooves on the ropes and avoid the rungs as much as possible; you’ll spread your weight out and make it a little more stable. When you take a step, move your front hoof with your opposite back hoof: right-front with left-rear and vice versa. With the increased length of the ladder, it was a bit shakier than I expected, but all that meant was that I needed to slow down a bit more.

Before I was a quarter of the way up, Aegis had fallen off, slid back down, and was preparing to try again. “How’s the ground?” I teased.

“It’ll be missing me real soon!” he said. He scampered back up the ladder, which flipped over again and dropped him.

“Say what?” I asked. By now, I was halfway up, still moving slowly, and wasn’t the least bit worried about flipping over.

“Quiet. You’re breaking my concentration.” Aegis tried to go slower this time, and the ladder visibly shook. He kept eyeballing me, trying to see what I was doing, but I was way ahead of him.

Soon, I rang the bell at the top and dropped down. Aegis fell over without reaching his bell and we slid down together. “Hey,” I said to the mare running the booth, “I put down two bits, so do you think you can give my extra one to him? It looks like he needs it.”

The mare was trying her hardest not to laugh, and actually doing an admirable job of it. “I think he might, yes,” she said in a level voice.

“I resent that,” pouted Aegis. When the carny wasn’t looking, he mouthed Thanks at me behind her back. I nodded in response.

I turned down any prize, saying I’d just wanted to do it for fun. Besides, those prizes were big. I didn’t want to be carrying one around all day, as much as I’d enjoy another giant plush manticore. Instead, I just watched Aegis make his last two attempts. You know how, when you’re watching someone struggle with something you’re good at, you can’t decide whether to laugh or cringe? That’s how I felt. It was so simple, but he kept messing up and falling back down. I could yell advice to him, but that meant not watching him flop off and land in funny ways. Decisions, decisions.

I didn’t yell advice.

When he came back down the last time, Aegis still seemed in good spirits. Good for him. I’d be frustrated. “Guess that’s it, then,” he said as he clambered back to the ground. “You win.” He fished out a bit and flipped it to me.

Once we were a short distance away, he said, “So what’re some other rigged games? What about the…” He pointed to a booth at random and squinted at the sign. “…milk bottle toss? Although I think I’ve heard about that one. The bottom bottles are weighted, right?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried, I have terrible aim.” I couldn’t throw or buck a ball for crap. If I was aiming at a target, the safest place to stand would be right in front of it.

“Oh.”

“Although if they are weighted, you could just try to throw extra hard and hope you have enough oomph to knock them over.”

“Really? Hmm.” Aegis’s eyes darted over the prizes. “Ooo. They’ve got stick-on mustaches.” He grinned. “Totally trying this. If I win, maybe I’ll get one of them.”

“Please don’t.”