"Come See The Amazing Rapping Donkey" the sign said. "Only $4". I don't know why they were charging dollars when we were in Bolton, but luckily I always carry small change in every currency. I paid my money and they led me into the tent. Sure enough, there was a donkey rapping on the stage, he was dressed in diamonds, gold and six baseball caps, like a gangster version of Buckaroo. I walked straight back out.
"I'd like my money back." I said to the dwarf at the concession stand.
"What's the problem?" she said, poking me in the chest with a tiny plastic spear.
"That donkey is performing The Real Slim Shady. He's just reciting someone else's song. True rapping comes from the heart, that donkey is rapping from the ears."
"No refunds." she said. "Now get out of here."
In a fit of rage at the poor customer service I grabbed her head and twisted it clean off, crying out to the heavens, roaring like a tiger/lion hybrid. As I stood there holding her face in my hands I had an uncontrolable urge to take a bite out of it. It tasted like candyfloss. Everything went cloudy.
A moment later the world became clear again. I looked down at my niece's decapitated body and immediately regretted taking all of those mushrooms before coming to the carnival. I'm the worst uncle.