Michael Pondnoddle whistled. ‘Blow me, I never thought…’ He lost his thread as his children disappeared inside the arcade, squealing at the flashing lights and buzzing noises.
‘What’s up, Mikey?’ Coleen watched the children disappear as she spoke. She set off after her offspring, without waiting for an answer.
Michael walked slowly forward, until he was within touching distance of the ancient figure. His voice shook slightly. ‘Hello, old friend.’ He put a hand on the painted plaster of the cloak and imagined the vibrations that had shook the display, remembered the mesmeric eyes, the cartoon twitching of the moustache and the scary clacking of the jaw as the machine intoned its responses. His finger traced the gold leaf of the machine’s name that ran beneath the crude cast of the crossed legs. ‘The Great Mysterio’.
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