Don't Sweat the Small Stuff by Don Bruns Page B

don’t like going places I can’t see.”
    We followed the arrow to the left, two, three strides and the space was pitch black, I felt the roller bars under my feet just as James shouted.
    “Whoa. Hold on, man.” He reached back and grabbed me, trying to steady himself.
    “Stand still, James. They’re just some rollers. Walk slowly, they probably end in a couple of feet.”
    He let out a breath and sure enough, a couple of steps later we were back on a firmer footing.
    Ghoulish noises resonated from tinny speakers. Wailing and a whooshing sound.
    “Damn, Skip, sounds like bats.”
    “Sound effect, James. Man up.”
    We took several more steps and the flashing face startledboth of us. Almost three dimensional, the monster’s face snarled, larger than life, its mouth opening right in front of us as if it was going to swallow us whole.
    The path abruptly turned to the right as a dim red light clicked on to show us the turn.
    “Never should have done this, amigo.”
    “It’s a kids’ amusement, James. They apparently have a different sense of humor.
    “I was a kid. Once.”
    A life-sized skeleton dropped two feet in front of us, and James froze as I ran into him. A jangling piano played rickety music as the bones danced and we waited for four or five seconds until the animated thing retreated to some hidden place.
    Five more steps and I saw James in front of me. His head was bloated, his body as skinny as a rail and right behind him I saw myself. Fun house mirrors. Now what could be more enjoyable than this?
    “Tell me, Skip, how much more of this do we have to take?”
    I’d already thought about it. A turn to the left, then to the right. As wide as the trailer was, they could take us one more path to the left and probably another to the right. Then right again to the entrance/exit. Maximizing the space. I’d learned that in business school. Little things kept coming back.
    “Keep walking, man.”
    We stepped past the mirrors, six in all, showing us in contorted shapes and sizes. One had us upside down, and never once was I tempted to laugh.
    A yellow light popped on as we hit the wall, showing us the turn to the left. I caught a glimpse of James as he made the turn into the narrow passage and I heard his surprised gasp. Turning the corner I stumbled over something, gasping as well.
    “James?”
    Nothing.
    “Hey, buddy. James? Not funny.”
    I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. Knowing it wasn’t a good idea, I reached down to see what I’d stumbled over. I prayed it wasn’t James. Whatever it was appeared to be narrow, long and soft like a pillow. Definitely not James.
    “James?”
    The next instant the floor slipped, like an earthquake knocking my feet from under me, and as I careened from one cushioned wall into the other, a hideous laugh played over the speakers. Grabbing at the walls I felt the floor shift again. Moving steel plates. I took a broader step and the plates slid again, throwing me against the other wall.
    There appeared to be no James in front of me. And if my plan was right, I still had another right turn and half a right turn before this torturous amusement was over.
    Two more steps on the shifting floor and once again I was on solid ground.
    I wanted to double-time it, move as fast as possible, but when you can’t see one inch in front of yourself, you tend to take it very slowly. Another two steps, three, and I felt something in my face. A spider’s web, stringy and strange. Clawing at it, I kept moving.
    “James. Come on man, you’ve got to be out there.”
    Faster now, calling his name every four or five seconds. An animated rat the size of a dog crossed my path, baring his teeth. A storm came up, with loud claps of thunder, flashes of lightning, and the sound of rain pouring all around me. I patted my shirt and hair, but all was dry.
    I stopped for a moment. Someone, something behind me now. A paying customer who had followed behind us, or maybe James, having doubled