Clowns To The Left Of Me, Jokers To The Right

The halls of the Dead City's museum were filled to the ceiling with buzzing chatter and gleeful exclamations, especially in the old aerospace wing. Only a wide path made for navigating the rooms were left free of displays and tat, various games filling the rooms and carnival workers calling loudly to punters. The Lunar Light Festival always drew a large crowd of revellers, joyful and enthusiastic. Crypt hated it. His head was beginning to throb with the beginnings of a migraine and the bright lights were hurting his eyes. Worst of all, he could see Church making his way towards him through the crowd.

Church wasn't the kind of Cryo to let an event this large pass him by, but with every encounter with another attendee he found himself regretting leaving his cave that morning. As if his day trip couldn't get any worse, he spotted Crypt from across the room. What would be more awkward, he thought, making eye contact and ignoring his on-off mate or going over and actually speaking to him? He decided to make the first move, approaching Crypt with what he hoped to be a confident swagger.

Crypt tilted his head as the other Cryo approached, was he limping? Unusual for Church to venture out with wounded pride, it was enough to keep him fixed to his spot instead of slinking backwards into the crowd to avoid an awkward conversation.

"Out for a day trip, old timer?" Church asked in lieu of a proper greeting, making Crypt's spines bristle already. 

"I could ask you the same," he retorted, "though I suppose these childish games rather suit your personality."

"Ah, a trio of Cryos, won't you folks like to step on up and try out our games?" a carnival worker called to them, interrupting the frigid silence. Trio? Both Crypt and Church looked around and nearly jumped out of their skins at the sight of a smaller, blue Cryo standing between them. They were speckled with bright yellow markings, hardly easy to miss but somehow between their awkward exchange they had overlooked the small juvenile entirely.

"How fun," Gildir said in their usual soft and dreamlike voice, like they were barely awake, "I would like to try, but please, elders first." Church puffed up at being called an elder but Crypt unsubtly shouldered his way past him to the game, drawing his ire instead. He followed, intending on chewing the older Cryo out for his behaviour but he was soon distracted by the attendant, a small Oviraptor wearing a bright red coat to cover his mottled brown feathers. He held a cane of some kind in his left hand and used it to gesture at the game he had set up behind him, clicking the bottom to make the bulb at the tip of the cane shine with a shimmering light. The three Cryos dutifully turned their attention to the fairground attraction set up before them.

A propeller hung on a backdrop of cardboard, making the soft material buckle slightly under its weight. Despite what must have been years of abandonment, the blades gleamed under the twinkling decorative lights and moved freely without any screeching of rust when the operator spun it. In the cardboard behind it there were five holes, lined with brightly coloured tape to differentiate between them. The largest hole was green, then they grew gradually smaller until reaching a yellow one barely wider than an orange. 

"The smaller the hole, the more points you get," the attendant explained, handing a small, hard ball to Crypt. The albino Cryo took it in his claws but frowned as he rolled it between his two stubby front limbs. There was no way he could throw with them, so he decided to drop the ball on the countertop of prizes and pick it up in his teeth. He lined himself up sideways to the target, nodding at the carnival worker who began to manually spin the propeller. Crypt squinted as the blades whipped past the holes, blurring and forming a translucent grey mess in front of his targets. His weak eyes seemed to be catching up with him as the combination of the bright lights and spinning blades made it almost impossible to aim.

"A slow worm would have a better shot than you, blind old codger," Church crowed, cackling at his own joke and ignoring the fierce little scowl the blue Cryo gave him. Emboldened by the mockery, Crypt whipped his head to the side and let go of the ball. He couldn't see where it landed as his momentum carried him around, but he heard a series of thunks as it rolled down the cardboard. He turned back, disheartened, but was surprised to see both the worker and Gildir smiling at him.

"One point! Not bad for your first try!" the attendant said gleefully, handing Crypt a small red ticket. The Cryo stared at it for a moment in disbelief before a shit-eating grin spread across his face. This was something to stick in Church's craw, slow worm indeed! He turned to the other two Cryos waiting in line behind him but he only had eyes for Church.

"Alright then, Church," he said with his voice dripping in faux sweetness, "It's your turn." The black and white Cryo didn't hesitate, stomping over to the attendant and waiting for the ball to be handed to him. The Ovi shrank back somewhat but handed the ball over and Church followed Crypt's example of holding it in his mouth instead. Let the overly gangly species like the raptors use their strange arms to throw, any real dinosaur knew all you needed in life was a strong set of teeth. The propeller was spun again, with a noticeable hesitance this time. Church grimaced at the spinning blades, aiming for the yellow hole to guarantee a higher score than Crypt. If he threw it hard enough it should go straight through, no matter what. With this philosophy in mind, he tensed his neck and let the ball fly with a mighty swing, pivoting on one foot to give it extra momentum. The ball flew from his mouth at blinding speed, hitting the spinning blades and shooting directly up into the ceiling, shattering a ceramic light shade and sending fragments falling to the ground. The festival visitors shrieked and fled from the chaos as Church watched blankly, unsure of how the ball had even gone that way in the first place.

"Um, that's zero points, sir," the Oviraptor said nervously. 

"Yeah, figured," Church grumbled. 

"I'd argue a slow worm could've done better," Crypt sneered. Before Church could sink his teeth into the albino Cryo, the youngster stood in front of him on their way to the board.

"My turn!" they said enthusiastically. They also grabbed the ball with their teeth, shuffling back and forth like they were lining up their shot. The older Cryos put their brawl on hold to watch the youngster, unable to resist seeing if they could beat either of their scores. Gildir let out a long breath around the ball, feeling it grow slippery from the condensation and refrained from nodding to themself. They threw the ball upwards, sending it straight above them and watching it fall with their yellow eye. At the last moment, they spun on the spot, feeling their tail strike the ball with ideal timing. The ball shot through the spinning blades and Gildir watched with their blue eye as it sank straight into the yellow hole, falling into the cardboard chute with a series of loud thunks. 

"Oh!" the Ovi exclaimed, "You've won the grand prize, congratulations!" He hurried to the back of the board and returned with a model airplane, its cockpit stuffed with the same red tickets that Crypt had won one of. Gildir took it gladly, holding the plane close to their chest like they were hugging it.

"Ah, I'm happy to share my tickets if you'd like to get some prizes too?" they offered to the dumbstruck adults.

"Uh, no thanks kid, keep your tickets," Church said, still staring at the dent in the back of the cardboard where the ball had nailed it. "Hey, besides, what do you think we are, some kind of charity? Get lost!" he snapped, the full wound to his pride sinking in. Gildir's crest feathers flattened to the back of their neck and they slunk away.

"Bullying children now, you never fail to disappoint me, Church," Crypt sighed. That was enough to reignite their previous argument, leaving the two Cryos bickering in front of the poor game attendant for the rest of the evening.