Sidenote: This short story/poem was inspired by season one, episode eight of Scooby Doo: Where are You? That’s where these first lines of dialogue are pulled from.
“Hey, don’t you wish Funland was open? The rootbeer floats, the chocolate custard, the rides? Man, that’s livin’.”
“Yes, but right now it looks a little spooky. Even haunted.”
“Don’t be silly Daphne.”
The lights start coming on.
“Hey, look at that!”
“But that’s impossible. That place won’t be open for weeks.”
Clicking of roller coaster as it pushes the invisible riders up the track.
The ride rolls across the screen, silently. No screams of joy, no playful chatter.
“Well, this calls for a little investigation.”
As night sweeps over the fall horizon, the lights turn on in Funland.
The roller coaster clicks as it pushes the ride up the track. The cash register opens with a loud ding. The cotton candy machine whirs into motion. The ferris wheel squeaks as it rolls around the moon.
But no one’s there.
Except for him.
His name is Charlie. Or, at least his maker calls him that. He doesn’t know what he calls himself.
A blue robot with a pale face, completely smooth and without features. Mechanical parts that make his mouth perpetually frown and glowing yellow eyes that flash when he’s excited.
He zooms back and forth across the park; making hot dogs and shakes, playing carnival games, and riding the ferris wheel.
Floating through the tunnel of love with a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hard metal wrist.
Eyeing himself suspiciously in the mirror maze; the different ways his body contorts confusing him.
Riding up the roller coaster, click, click, click. Sitting in the front seat. No smile to curve, but eyes beaming like headlights with the hazards on.
In the summer, families come from all across the country to visit Funland.
In the fall, there’s Charlie.
Eyes flashing, always flashing.