A Whirl of Plastic Ribbons

My boots stepped onto the sticky wooden ledge of an unattended carnival stall, where a large handheld prize wheel sat hooked to a metal stand. Tilting my neck sideways at an acute angle, I eyed the bright rainbow segments and its stiff plastic ticker. With deliberate slowness, I wedged the spiked head of my club behind one wooden peg and hauled down with all my weight. The dial unleashed a violent, rattling chatter as it whipped around, fluttering a hanging bundle of metallic pom-poms into a shiny frenzy. Leaning backward in mock astonishment, I spread my gloved hands wide, my shoulders trembling in vigorous, silent chuckles.