Hey guys, it's E. J. Miller. Today is the last installment
of our Fast Food Horror Classics episodes, and the story I found for you
this week is disturbing at best. It's a fantastic story I read when I
was in high school, and when I started going down this path of classic
short stories, this one immediately popped into mind. I really hope you enjoy
it. More so, I hope you enjoy the voice talent of Holly.
Holly comes to us from Mojo five Oh. She has her own podcast that
drops every week on Sundays. It's called Damn It with Beaver. It's a
podcast full of positive, uplifting human interest stories to make you see the good
that exists in the world. She even she even has her own brand of
coffee. You gotta go check it out. The coffee's brought to you by
APR Coffee American Pride Roasters Coffee. It's the Save the Kiddies Blend. Ten
percent of the proceeds will benefit the Stale wild Cat Shelter. It is tasty,
it is delicious, and it will definitely get you awake. So go
check her out over on any podcast platform. Damn It with Beaver and I
would encourage you to go check out Americanpride Roasters dot com. American Pride Roasters
dot com, and go check out her Save the Kiddies blend of APR Coffee.
It is, It's It's delicious. And now, without further ado,
our master of Ceremonies, I gore Froederick with this week's installment of fast Food
Horror Classics. I gore take it away, Thank you, EJ. This
week story is entitled The can of by Michael Fado nahrated by Holly of damn
It with Beaver. The chartered bus stopped at the corner of fourteenth in Squire.
Jerry smiled nervously, turned and waved to his mother, who stood weeping
a few feet away, and boarded the bus. He returned the driver's silent
nod and settled himself in the only remaining seat near the front, next to
a poorly dressed middle aged woman. Jerry tingled with excitement. He glanced around,
eager for conversation, but the other passengers were strangely silent. This puzzled
Jerry, for he was looking forward with great anticipation to the carnival. Indeed,
he felt fortunate for having won this drawing at school, which allowed him
to attend the carnival for free as a special guest of the government. In
an effort to encourage patronage among young people, the government agency Populous Control sponsored
the drawings and contests for students. The man and the woman seated behind Jerry
began talking about carnivals of years gone by, how they used to be very
popular with kids, but weren't nearly as exciting as those of today. From
the way they spoke, Jerry guessed they had attended many carnivals. He turned
around and saw they were about the age of his parents. How much more
interesting than his parents they were. Jerry thought his parents wouldn't dream of taking
in the carnival, and Jerry sometimes wondered what they had to live for.
The couple noticed Jerry staring at them, and he coughed and faced the front.
He squirmed in his seat. The woman next to Jerry nudged him.
You don't look old enough, she said, looking straight ahead. I'm sixteen,
he responded sharply. The woman turned toward him. They never had these
when I was sixteen. I wish they had. Why the woman ignored him.
I hope today's my day, she sighed, Oh, let it be
to day. She blew her nose into a crumpled handkerchief and stared out the
mud splattered window. The bus rolled past gray neighborhoods. Silent people on the
streets wearing distant, vacant faces, did not look up as the bus went
by. The bus joggled along with its silent passengers until it came to a
stop and a part of town unfamiliar to Jerry. The driver stood and faced
the passengers. All right, folks, he said, this is it.
Get your ID cards read. The PC officer will be boarding in a minute.
Those with government passed a step to the front. Jerry got up.
You gotta pass. The woman next to him asked yes. Jerry said,
I want it at school. The woman turned away, and Jerry went to
the front of the bus, where the populist control officer was standing. Just
a second, boy, he said, as Jerry held out his identification and
pass, I have an announcement to make. The passengers listlessly raised their heads.
As you know, he began, some of you may not be making
the return trip on the bus. Jerry wished the officer would hurry. Did
he know there was a carnival out there, couldn't he tell that? Nobody
wanted to hear him drone on and on? Well, hurry up, Jerry
wanted to shout, hurry up. The man completed his memorized presentation and looked
at Jerry, who was chewing his knuckles and impatience. Take it easy,
son, the officer said, There's plenty of time and plenty of opportunity for
everyone. Yes, sir, Jerry said. He leapt from the bus as
soon as the officer had punched his pass and ran to the clamoring throng at
the carnival's main gate. It was just the way he had pictured it.
Bright lights, the scuffling noises, the mass of moving people, the laughter
and the shrieks of those who had dared board the death defying rides. Jerry's
heart beat quickened as he walked along the midway first time. Sonny, an
ancient carne called to him. Chant your life on this little spin, won't
you? Jerry gazed at the whirling machine high above his head. I might
later, he said, if you're lucky, the cannerie replied. Jerry found
himself being swept along with the crowd ahead of him. A police officer was
leading a young woman by the arm. She was sobbing and telling the officer
she didn't want to leave her husband behind. Jerry hardly noticed. He had
more important things in his mind. He was attending his first carnival. He
had to make the most of it. He inhaled deeply, then reached into
his pocket and clutched his pass. The crush of the crowd took Jerry's several
hundred yards south of the main gate, Hundreds of attractions awaited the customers.
Jerry sat down on a bench to study a map of the carnival grounds and
decided which amusements he wanted to chance. No sooner had he moved the map
from his pocket than two burly men struggling with something and a large plastic bag
past him. They half dragged their load to a huge pit and tossed it
in. Jerry wondered over the edge of the pit. It was enormous,
a hundred yards square and not telling how deep the yards are. One in
eight you'll make it, kid, one of the men said, with a
crooked smile, one in eight today. Both men laughed and walked away.
Jerry peered into the pit. There seemed to be a mountain of black plastic
bags rising from the floor of the abyss. Jerry shuddered briefly, then turned
away. He didn't look back. He saw it cheerier sights instead, the
flashing neon lights all about him. The spectacle was breath taking. Jerry had
never in his life been so excited, but then he had never known such
cause for excitement either. He felt in his pocket for his pass and stopped
for a drink from a water fountain, then continued along the midway. The
sky was darkening slightly, but Jerry didn't expect rain. The forecast had said
no rain at the Weather Control Center was never wrong. Jerry got into the
line of people who wanted to ride the thunder Clapper. In front of him
stood a young man with glasses. He was sweating profusely, although the temperature
was on the cool side. The young man glimced over his shoulder first time,
he asked, nervously, rubbing his hands together. Yes, Jerry answered,
good luck. The man said, this one's a real killer. Jerry
saw the contraption rusting fifty feet ahead. You've never been on it before,
the man cleared his throat. Nope, but I've gone on a lot of
other ones. This is my first ride, Jerry said. The young man
laughed, you sure picked a good one for a starter, I hope so,
Jerry said. The riders grew funerally silent as they came up to the
boarding ramp. Jerry took a deep breath. He could feel the pulse in
his throat. He stepped on to the ramp and selected his seat next to
the young man he had met in Lyne. The attendant came over and strapped
them both in. The straps covered most of their body and were fastened very
tightly. Jerry found breathing difficult. That'll hold you, shorty, the attendant
said, as he finished Jerry. Jerry noticed that the attendant wore thick soled
boots and carried heavy gloves in his back pocket. The announcement was made,
stating that the ride would last only ninety seconds. It was everyone for himself.
The announcer then wished the rider's good luck, and the motors started.
It rumbled and coughed, then gained momentum as it lifted the apparatus and its
occupants in the air. It picked up speed now and the low rumble became
a violent roar. Jerry felt his stomach now beneath the straps holding him.
He hoped he wasn't going to be sick. The roar was deafening. Jerry
screamed, but no sound came from his lips. Lightning cracked all around him,
coming so close he thought he could feel its intense heat. Then suddenly
the roar subsided and the huge metal wheel which gently eased on to its base.
The attendant unstrapped Jerry and the young man next to him. The young
man did it move, and the two men came to take him from the
seat. Derry bound quickly down the ramp. I did it. I made
it on my first try, he shrieked, half stumbling back onto the midway.
A uniform statesman smiled at Jerry's exuberance and continued with his work in the
departure column on the paper in front of him. He added another check.
Jerry wanted to shout his success. He wanted to run, but there was
no room on the crowded midway. What's so tough about this? Anyway,
Jerry thought, if you take a positive reproach, you'll overcome it. He
had easily met the challenge on his first ride, the one everybody had said
would be the roughest. Well, he had come through almost without flinching.
The taste of this kind of success was something he had not known before.
He felt so exhilarated that he giggled in spite of himself. He would try
his luck again. After some food, he walked over to a refreshment stand
and got two hot dogs. I've just been on the Thunderclapper, he told
the concierge. That's living pretty dangerously. The man said, is there any
other way? Jerry asked, lightly, paying for the food, He ate
rapidly, anxious to get back into action. Although he reveled in his achievement,
he knew that he could really prove his metal only by continuing to accept
the challenge. As soon as he swallowed the last bite, he joined a
red haired boy about his age and line for the whirlaway. The other boy
smiled and told Jerry that this was his first ride. This is nothing,
Jerry told him, I've just come off the thunder Clapper. The red haired
boy's eyes widen with admiration. I think this will be just as tough,
he said, without conviction. I doubted Jerry scoff, but it'll probably help
build your confidence. The thrill seekers were led to their places by the Whirlaway
attendants and strapped into the spokes of the machine in upright standing positions. Again,
there was an announcement over the public address system. It was the usual
drivel that Jerry hardly heard. Jerry was relaxed. A calm smile played over
his lips. He settled back, ready to enjoy this new experience to the
fullest. The Whirlaway began to vibrate its engines, whoshing like a great windstorm.
The structure throbbed and gained speed until the passengers near the ra and were
moving at about two hundred miles per hour. Jerry was thinking of the stories
he'd tell his classmates at school tomorrow. He had taken on the Thunderclapper and
the whirl Away straight off. You'd take the meanest ones first, he would
tell them. The Whirlaway, spinning at an ever increasing speed, rose three
hundred feet off the ground. Jerry became aware of a dizzy sensation. Then
the sense of motion ceased, and suddenly he was free of movement and sound.
He was in the air, hurling headlong downward. It isn't fair,
he tried to shout. They said, one in eight, one in eight.
Men from the pit moved into position with their black plastic bags. But
Jerry did not see them, nor was he conscious, when he ceased to
be approaching the Earth, meeting it face to face at almost the speed of
sound. Ditt