All around me the rusty rides creak and groan in the silence of the abandoned theme park. I kick at a game stand resentfully, cursing my friends. Instantly, it  lights up with carnival music and the machine clowns surrounding it animate themselves, jeering as they surround me with their painted faces and ear-splitting grins. Suddenly, I feel my jeans stretching into striped baggy pants and my hands elongating to rakes. My teeth, two inches long, paint themselves into a crazed grin of their own. And then I’m cackling madly, uncontrollably, looking at the clowns - laughing like them, at them, with them.