"Oh, sassafras!" Ethel exclaimed when she stopped twirling and staggered sideways into the sad clown.
"Oh, ho, ho," Jim Bob the clown howled an exaggerated laugh as he helped Ethel regain her equilibrium.
"Getting old sucks," she said with a sigh and wobbled over to the little boy who was politely holding the apple Ethel had been eating when she offered to demonstrate how cool her poodle skirt looked when she twirled. "I guess I need to get back to yoga class to work on my balance."
The little boy kept his face a mask of indifference to hide his inner laughter. Jim Bob noticed the boy's face about to burst from his weakening reserve and gave his nose a beep so he could let out a giggle without insulting Ethel.
Ethel accepted the apple from the giggling juvenile without any hint that he could be laughing at her misfortune and the boy jogged back to the lights of the carnival and away from the increasingly awkward situation.
"Oh, double sassafras!" Ethel exclaimed, "my apple is steeped with oxidation!" she held it up for Jim Bob to see the browning flesh of the apple before tossing it over the chain link fence that bordered the carnival area.
"You know, Ethel dear," Jim Bob's concern showed through his thick clown make-up, "you're no spring chicken anymore and it worries me that you insist on doing that twirling poodle skirt bit for the patrons. You could have fallen and sprained an ankle, or even broken something."
Ethel, now angry, stood on her tip toes to look Jim Bob in the eye and said, "Ever since 1975 when that piano man in the bar paid me to do the skirt twirl, I've been doing that bit. I don't need anyone creating controversy over it. That's ageism on your part, Jim Bob. It may have been a strange request once upon a time in a seedy piano bar, but I've made a halfway decent living at it and I'll keep doing it until men stop stuffing money into my cleavage, so there!"
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