Gay Love and l**t at Work

Carnival Cravings-1

Carnival Cravings

Whoever thought up the name Dinky Dickie Donuts had either a twisted sense of humor or balls the size of watermelons.

Then again, the company had been in operation since the thirties, and maybe ‘d**k’ didn’t mean the same thing back then. Anthony didn’t know—he’d majored in theatre, not history. Anyway, they were damn good donuts, the kind you craved year-round, though they were available only in the summer, and exclusively at the carnival.

This year, Anthony had yet another reason to love those Dinky Dickie Donuts: the cute guy who walked the carnival grounds offering free samples. He was tall, lanky, but not in a bad way, with red hair and enough freckles to conjure up an image of that gap-toothed kid from the cover of Mad Magazine. The most appealing thing about him, beyond the fact that he was always armed with donuts, was that he spent inordinate stretches of time parking his a*s on the bench near Anthony’s cotton candy cart.

Watching.

Not in a creepy way, though.

Maybe admiring would be a better word.

Anthony had been admiring the guy for about a week now, and he still hadn’t worked up the courage to walk over there and introduce himself. He wasn’t usually so plagued by shyness, but every time he tried to persuade himself to leave the cart in Lalika’s hands and say hello, his feet refused to move.

Beyond the red and white striped pants he had to wear in this job, his shiny red shoes seemed to whisper, “He’s not here for you! It’s Lalika he’s keen on—pretty Indian girl, long black hair, ample curves, sixteen if she’s a day... any man’s dream.”

Gazing down at his Ronald McDonald shoes, he said, “Not mine.”

“Any straight man’s dream,” his shoes replied.

And then Lalika interrupted the conversation. “I think the candy floss fumes have invaded your brain.” He looked up at her, but barely heard her say, “You’re talking to your shoes again,” when he realized the Dinky Dickie Donuts boy had gone.

“Settle a bet,” he said to her. “The donut guy who’s always hanging out on that bench—is he into you or me?”

Lalika turned to look at the empty bench. “Nobody there, pal.”

“Well, not anymore...”

Rolling her eyes in typical teenaged fashion, she said, “You’re a freak but I love you... so will you do my rounds today? I have cramps.” She put both hands on her pelvis and let out an exaggerated groan. “They really, really hurt.”

Generally, Anthony spent all day in the stationary cart preparing fresh candy floss while Lalika put on the converted backpack—it had poles sticking out from it like wings, where they hung plastic bags full of cotton candy—and walked the carnival grounds making sales. Despite his sedentary nature, Anthony felt antsy today, so he suited up without argument and set off down the midway.

It was actually kind of nice to get out from behind the candy machine.

There was plenty of noise on the midway, but it was a different kind of noise: children screaming, laughing, crying, begging, groups of young guys hollering to impress girls and impress each other, carnies attracting couples to their fixed games, chatter in the line-ups for those rickety old roller coasters and fun houses.

Anthony loved it here. The unmatched energy brought him back to this job year after year. It certainly wasn’t the money. He couldn’t pay his rent if this was all he had to rely on.

“I know you,” an unfamiliar voice called out.

Anthony turned to find the Dinky Dickie Donuts guy running up behind him, pushing a sample cart along the concrete midway. During the rest of the year, this place was a parking lot.

“Hi,” Anthony said as the guy caught up. He thought he should say more, but he didn’t know what.

The poor guy was out of breath when he stopped beside Anthony, so it was just as well a young father with three little kids chose that moment to buy a bag of candy floss. Anthony had very nearly forgotten he was supposed to be working out here.

As the three kids asked for donut samples, the guy dispensed them, still focused on Anthony. “You work at the Pallett Theatre. You’re an usher there. I’ve seen you before.”

For a moment, Anthony wasn’t sure if he should feel honoured to be recognized, or embarrassed to be recognized as an usher. “Yeah, well, pays the bills until the acting jobs start rolling in, right?”

“You’re an actor?” The guy really perked now, like a puppy on uppers. “No way! I’m going to Ryerson in the fall for Theatre Arts.”

“Nice. I wish I’d stayed in town for school,” Anthony confessed. “I went away and it ended up costing a hell of a lot of money. Then every summer, out of habit, I’d come back here and sell cotton candy. Kind of stupid. Definitely didn’t pay my tuition, but I just like working here. Can’t explain it.”

He felt like he was talking too much, but he didn’t want this guy left with the impression that even with a theatre degree the best work he could find was selling candy floss at the carnival.

“No, I understand,” the guy said. “It’s like summer camp.”

Anthony made a sale to a pair of goth lesbians, and the sight of them together—holding hands and kissing in public—made him really happy. The donut guy must have felt the same way, because he gave them three samples each.

“I’m Eugene,” the guy said, almost like an afterthought. He stuck out his hand, and Anthony shook it, even though that felt way too formal for the situation.

“Eugene,” Anthony repeated, trying to think of a famous Eugene. “Levy. Or is that way before your time?”

When Eugene rolled his eyes, it reminded Anthony of Lalika, and he wondered how she was doing on her own with the cotton candy machine. “I’m sure you’re not that much older than me. Besides, I know who Eugene Levy is: one of the SCTV greats, alongside Catherine O’Hara, John Candy...who else?”

Anthony thought back. “Andrea Martin, Dave Thomas...all those guys who made it big in the States. Is that your plan, too? Hollywood or bust?”

A bunch of teenagers passed Eugene’s donut cart and grabbed handfuls of donuts without a please or a thank you. Eugene clicked his teeth. “Rude kids.” He grabbed another box from the bottom of the cart and cut the donuts into quarters. “Hollywood? No, I don’t think so. I’m more a fan of live theatre.”

The midway was getting busier as the afternoon wore on. They both started walking toward Kidz World at the same moment, like their feet were conspiring to keep them together. “Broadway, then?”

With a shrug, Eugene said, “I have modest aspirations. I never wanted to be rich and famous, just be an actor and work in little shoestring plays like they have at the Pallett Theatre.”

“Nice.”

When he was younger, Anthony thought that way too. Then he got caught up in the intricate world of union credits and scrambling for TV commercial auditions, and true art fell by the wayside.

But he liked working at the theatre. He got to see a lot of great plays for free. “I can ask my boss if she’s looking for more ushers, if you want.”

“That’d be perfect,” Eugene said. He had a very slight lisp, which only seemed to come out when he was excited about something.

Anthony found it adorable.

He found everything about this guy adorable.

Truly.

“I could go to school during the day and work evening shifts,” Eugene said. “That would be awesome.”

When they arrived in Kidz World, an entire daycare group bombarded them, and Anthony decided to break open a bag of candy floss to give out. It was great, how animated the little ones got around pure sugar. The wonder of the candy had worn off on Anthony, but he still loved watching the looks on kids’ faces as it melted on their tongues.

The children and their sticky hands ran off to the petting zoo, and Anthony said a little prayer for the poor goats...baby goats...

“What do you call a baby goat?” he asked Eugene.

“A kid.”

“Really? I thought that was kangaroos.”

Eugene brought out another box of fried doughy goodness and sliced the donuts into quarters. “A baby kangaroo is a joey.”

“You don’t say.”

Anthony already knew this guy was something, but now he realized this guy was really something. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling as little families, parents and grandparents, lined up to buy bags of candy floss from him and boxes of donuts from Eugene’s cart. The crowd didn’t clear until a kids’ show starring adults in goofy outfits started up on the stage across the way.

“I’ve done that,” Anthony admitted. “Children’s entertainment: it’s hell and the pay is crap.”

“I like kids,” Eugene said.

“So do I,” Anthony agreed. “Personally, not professionally.”

It didn’t feel like long before the sun set over the midway, and by then Anthony felt like he’d known Eugene all his life. He’d come across a long lost brother, but one he wanted to f**k—and by the coy little looks Eugene was giving him, he was sure this guy felt the same way.

“Shit.” Anthony bit his lip as a lady walking her toddler on a leash gave him a scathing glare. “I haven’t checked on Lalika all this time. She’s going to be dying for a pee break.”

“When is your shift over?” Eugene asked.

“When I leave.” Anthony winked, and then wondered if that made him look like a loser.

“When’s that?”

With a shrug, Anthony said, “Midnight, probably. Why? You want to meet up?” He was careful not to say hook up, even though that’s what he was thinking.

Eugene looked out across the long stretch of the midway, with its Around-the-World swings and its Tilt-a-Whirl and Ferris Wheel, and he smiled too. “Come to the staff entrance at the Food Building. I’ll let you in.”

“Sounds good. I have to park my cart in there anyway.” Anthony’s stomach was all butterflies already. He started on his way across the huge fairground, and then realized something. “Hey, you never let me sample a Dinky Dickie.”

Raising an eyebrow, Eugene replied, “I know. See you after work.”

Anthony walked across the midway feeling like a million bucks, and feeling nervous as hell. Poor Lalika seemed to be in serious pain when he got back to the cart. Whether it was real or put on he couldn’t hope to tell, but he sent her home anyway. She was young, but pretty reliable and he didn’t think she’d fake cramps to get out of work.

The evening passed by in a haze of anticipation, the midway gleaming like a river of blinking stars. The lights on the games and the rides ignited the sky, turning it a shade of purply-orange even after darkness ought to have descended. Whack-a-Moles banged and Strong-Man games binged. The big wheel on the Birthday Game clattered with every spin. Despite his temporary absence, Eugene was present throughout it all. Anthony spoke to him internally. It was much better than talking to his shoes.

When the fireworks came, Anthony’s balls jumped into his throat. His heart was already lodged up there, so it was a tight fit. How he managed to swallow, he’d never know.

The midnight fireworks closed down the show, and now it was time for Anthony to close up shop and meet his destiny. Sweeping one last cone through the final web of candy floss, he collected all that was left along the edges of the giant metal basin before shutting down the motor. He folded the cart in on itself, securing everything but his gift for Eugene inside, then he unlocked the wheels and heaved the cart in the direction of the Food Building. This task was easier with two people, but in a way he was glad Lalika wasn’t around to cramp his style.

Normally, Anthony would wash down the machine right away, but the moment he caught a glimpse of Eugene’s eager smile he knew that wasn’t going to happen tonight.