Milk man
There was a milk-milking man at the county fair yesterday, and since this county was in the city maybe that's why he was talking to himself. Stuck between the Verizon booth (near the flea show) and the racing pigs, he had no customers, no visitors, and all the conversation he could handle. Apparently. No matter how much you love milk, you're not pulling fake cow teats with the most unnecessarily amused man at the fair. Or maybe it necessary. I don't know what I do if that job were mine. At least the pig-racing guy got to put on a show and take care of animals. The milk-milking man had a wood cow (both sides of one) with bags of milk hanging down between them all day under just a little roof all day at the country fair.
You saw everybody's tattoos and the thick covered cables running from wherever out into the middle of the park, with some people stepping over them and people like me stepping wherever and wondering what happened if you stepped on them too hard. Do they fuzz lose a hose or would you need heavy-duty cutters and some wood watt-eaters on hand? And everybody in the houses. Do they go out at night, with for once a fair in a city, just over the line but virtually there, do they stick around the RV roundup on the other side of the fence or do they find the subway and ride downtown? Trading what's normal to them for what's normal for everyone who's been watching and waiting for deep-fried Oreos?
