Extemporize: a tale from the kissing booth.
A change would be nice.
"Hey, kid!" a grumpy old-man-carnie growled at me, "The boss told me to take your place. You're in charge of the kissing booth."
I was very relieved. Working at...uh, well, some random carnival game, of which I don't know the name, wasn't very fun. Small children always missed the targets, and always ended up demolishing my head with stupid foam balls.
What is my idea of fun?
It occured to me that I don't even know.
Anyways, now I get to go do what I do best: whore.
I slipped through the back of the tent and sat down when I got inside. It costs exactly either 25 cents, or one ticket, for a kiss.
Sometimes there are twelve year old girls, who shove their tongue in my mouth, and attempt to 'French me', by licking my teeth in a disgusting manor, when all I did was lean in to give them a peck on the lips.
"You're a good kisser," they tell me, as I try to smile half-heartedly, and try not to cringe in disgust.
EWWWWW.
Other times, there are weird, greasy old men, who are usually either truck drivers, or farmers, who grab my package from under the table, and tell me to 'meet them later', when all I was going to do was give them a peck on the cheek.
It really depends on the small town. The freaks vary; but I'll just tell you this, any one who would ever pay to kiss some 'carnie' they don't even know, must have something wrong with them.
And any one who would work in a kissing booth is a dirty little whore.
Shut up! I already know I have issues, okay?
I was very relieved. Working at...uh, well, some random carnival game, of which I don't know the name, wasn't very fun. Small children always missed the targets, and always ended up demolishing my head with stupid foam balls.
What is my idea of fun?
It occured to me that I don't even know.
Anyways, now I get to go do what I do best: whore.
I slipped through the back of the tent and sat down when I got inside. It costs exactly either 25 cents, or one ticket, for a kiss.
Sometimes there are twelve year old girls, who shove their tongue in my mouth, and attempt to 'French me', by licking my teeth in a disgusting manor, when all I did was lean in to give them a peck on the lips.
"You're a good kisser," they tell me, as I try to smile half-heartedly, and try not to cringe in disgust.
EWWWWW.
Other times, there are weird, greasy old men, who are usually either truck drivers, or farmers, who grab my package from under the table, and tell me to 'meet them later', when all I was going to do was give them a peck on the cheek.
It really depends on the small town. The freaks vary; but I'll just tell you this, any one who would ever pay to kiss some 'carnie' they don't even know, must have something wrong with them.
And any one who would work in a kissing booth is a dirty little whore.
Shut up! I already know I have issues, okay?