A Happy Accident || Self-Para || MOH Fair 2014
Pascal stumbled through the fair, his eyes wide, strained and overwhelmed by the masses as he seemed to constantly be fighting the crowd like a small fish against the current. He thought he had an easy job. How hard could picking up trash be? No social interaction, no stress of counting dollar bills or being yelled at for picking up the wrong thing, almost no possibility of embarrassment. Almost. But the third day of the fair did not seem to be on his side. He had been working from sun up, on the hunt for wrappers and loose garbage strewn about the park from the moment the gates opened.
His back was sore from days of hours upon hours of picking up trash, his hands cramped from holding the stupid device he still didn't know the name of, and he had taken more spills and stumbles than he knew what to do with. But hey, it was better than being at home. Still, he felt like even with all the work and the rowdy people and the viciously/sinfully bright orange vest draped over his too small shoulders and all of the endless pieces of garbage to pick up, pretty useless.
That is, until he was picking up a plastic bottle on the side of the caricature booth. Pascal was lost in thought, thinking about yesterday's occurrence with Unique and how strange it had been to see her after his nightmare. It was bizarre because it was making him think about some strange things. Like... why his chest got all warm and fluttery in a positive way whenever she was around, why she was in his nightmare in such a... provocative way... Why he, enjoyed that so much. His cheeks were bright red just thinking about it. That was the closest to a wet dream he ever had.
Just then, he was startled out of his dreamlike state as the man running the booth suddenly slammed his sketchbook down hard. "FUCK IT!" He bellowed, leaving Pascal in a gasp. His face of surprised turned to one of horror as the large man turned to him, his eyes ablaze in an fiery fury as he tromped his way over to the small boy who stood now cowering in fear. He made his way over, taking the sketchbook and shoving it into Pascal's arms who took it in a terrified manner. "Hope you can fucking draw, kid!" he hissed. He picked up Pascal's grabby thing and marched away with it, picking up trash as he went as he cursed about how picking up garbage was better than dealing with people unappreciative of his art.
With wide eyes, Pascal looked down at the sketchbook and up at the few people waiting in line for drawings. He swallowed harshly, feeling all their eyes on him. Knowing he had to get to work, he gave them a nervous smile and made his way over to the bench. Seating himself carefully upon it and setting the sketchbook up at the canvas as he took his first customer, he hit a sudden realization. Hey... I can fucking draw! And it was a hell of a lot better than picking up garbage.
