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My uncle dude Chester Cheddarman is an absolute car fanatic. Ask him to go out for pizza, and he'll respond by putting you in a light coma with his talks about the latest models and engines and uhhh horsepower without horses. what. I'm like ok that's cool man, but I just want pizza. On some days, he sounds like a walking advertisement, and on some days, he sounds like a Chad, but most of all his passion is pretty rad. As we walked to the garage, I noticed one of my favorite cars in his collection was missing. I think I left my limited edition Explosively Flavorful Cheetos and equally rare Subzero Ranch Doritos in that car. I believe the car was named after its special dongle thing in the front that looked like a cat...or a dog.
"So when, exactly, did you plan on telling me about the Hyena?" I joked (and prayed).
"What? You mean my Jaguar? Billy I've been talking about how I lost it in a freak accident involving cheetos and dorito dust for the past hour."
And at that moment, I knew I effed up.

It had been some time since I’d been to a carnival. My memory of carnivals brings me back to when I was around six or seven years old, holding dad’s hand, the other hand holding a bag of clumpy cotton candy. Oh what a happy time that was. I let out a heavy sigh. I look around, the carnival was in full swing, children laughing, teens screaming on rides, parents yelling after their straying children. This is the only place chaos can be such a wonderful thing. A paranoid urge itches at the back of my head, I glance behind me. A man in a black and white shirt and carnival makeup is behind me, walking 5 paces behind. My heart drops and begins to beat a little faster. I look around, nobody is seeing this man, except me. My bones shutter, I break into a slight jog through a crowd. Making my way around strollers and anxious parents. The man mimics my motions and is still on my tail. Still, no one seems to pay him any attention or even notice my discomfort. Panic sets in, I bolt through a nearby fun-house door. “TICKETS!” I gasp as a man grabs my arm. “Oh! I’m sorry sir.” I dig in my pocket and hand the man 4 tickets to enter the fun house. “Sorry about that.” I say to the missing tooth doorman. He scoffs at me and nods his head towards the fun house attraction. I let out a breath of relief, finally free from that weird looking carnival man. Just to be sure, I look back towards the door. The black and white shirt man is standing near the entrance. He looked unsure, his face paint giving him an over-exaggerated expression of contemplation, with a hand up to his chin. I hope he doesn’t do what he’s thinking of doing. He steps through the entrance. My heart skips a beat. What?! Why Didn’t the doorman stop him?! I break into a run, going into the fun-house. This is how people die in horror movies! That thought didn’t help, it only caused me to start sweating profusely. I close my eyes to wipe the sweat from my brow with my sleeve. BAP! I fall on my butt. I look up, my head hurt, my shoulder hurt, I ran straight into a mirror. I rub my forehead and look at the damn mirror. I feel like an idiot. This is a mirror maze. The man steps into view, I see him in 3 different mirrors. I try and stand, but dizziness takes over. I must have hit it harder than I thought. I see the man raise his hand over his mouth in an exaggerated gasp. Feeling defeat, I waited to see what would happen. The man walked up to me. He sighed, the first sound I’d heard him make. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He did a skip-hop and did some weird thing with his hands. “I’m a mime. Here take these, “a few tickets fell out of his sleeve and into his fingers. I grabbed the tickets with my hand that wasn’t on my head “Again sorry, I’m not supposed to talk.“ He winked and walked on through the mirror maze.
This is the story of when I found out what a Mime was.

"So, when were you going to tell me about the hyena?"
Biting back on a more vituperative reply, I carefully said, "That's not what they call themselves. It's like calling an Asian person an Oriental. It's just wrong."
Douglas just leaned back and grinned his irritatingly smug grin. "Okay, alien lover, what do 'they' like to be called?" Like he was daring me to show myself to be either just as ignorant as him, or traitorously well-informed. I could feel my teeth firing a warning shot against the clenching of my jaw.
"It's a bit more complicated than just knowing what planet they're from," I began explaining, hating to sound like a know-it-all, but hating the closed mindedness of one of my oldest friends just that tiny bit more.
"Any more than just calling us all Earthlings or Terrans, really. They have nationalities of their own, too."
"Okay, so what 'nationality' is your hyena, then," he pushed back.
I hoped he was just teasing, but anti-extraterrestrial sentiments were spreading like wildfire. I peeked at the window, where the silhouette of our visitor cast itself against the drawn curtain. Drawing a calming breath and releasing it as a sigh, I looked back to Doug. His shock of red hair falling across his forehead barely missed hiding the borderline contempt in his eyes. Oh dear.
"His name is Fluexis, and he's from the Summerlands of Altair. As for his nationality, I haven't actually asked him that, because," I added when Doug's copper eyes drew into sly, smug slits, "it would be like asking say, you, what you are. You know, German, Irish, what have you. It can be really upsetting!" I threw my hands up in defeat when he sputtered into derisive laughter.
"You know what? Fine. Fluexis and I will attend this convention without you,"I spat at him, turning to grab the door handle. A rough graps at my shoulder startled me into looking back at him.
"Not letting that happen," he nearly whispered. I knew what he was thinking: that because his species bore a resemblance to the hyenas of our world, that they must have the same predatory instincts.
"Let go of me," I warned, jerking my shoulder out of his grip. "This convention of nations is of vital importance, and as Ambassador to Altair, I will attend, without your xenophobia getting in our way." It was cruel of me to enjoy that look of confusion on Doug's face as he tried to work out what xenophobia meant. Pulling completely free of his grasp, I turned and made my exit.
Fluexis made a valiant attempt tp appear only casually interested in what had happened inside, though his crystalline green eyes showed his worry with the pinholing of his pupils. I gave him what I hoped would read as a reassuring smile. "Come, we have a driver awaiting our custom; let us away," I said with a grandiose sweep of my arm. Flue's left ear twitched in what I've already come to recognize as amusement.
"As you say, Mistress Melody," his soft growl of a voice replied with a fair approximation of a lordly bow. I couldn't help grinning at him.
He might have been mistaken for a savage by the scarcity of clothing, but to be honest, with that much fur, it would have been an invitation to heat stroke to cover him in full clothing. His sash and kilt were impressively decorated, as befitted a high ranking emissary from another world. The bold red and black served as contrast to the mottled patterning of his fur. Logic implied this custom evolved from a desire to show that an Altairian of the Summerlands was abandoning his camouflage as a gesture of good will towards other races of his world. A measure of trustworthiness.
I had attempted to dress in complement to his uniform, in a classic Little Black Dress with red accents. It crossed my mind that wearing his colors might read as declaring an allegiance to his nation over other Altairian nations, but whatever, I looked good in it.
Fluexis offered his arm in a gentlemanly gesture that might actually be universal. I graciously accepted his offer of support, noting that though a bit wiry, the fur of his arm was no stranger to the touch than a hirsute human's forearm.
"To the Embassy," he cried out with a suggestion of a roar in his voice that triggered a slight, instinctive skip of the heartbeat. Being descended from prey animals apparently still has its race memory responses. I was sure he picked up on the flush of fear, but he kindly avoided drawing attention to it.
"To the Embassy," I echoed with gusto, though with no impressive rumbling underneath. Together we climbed into the hired car -- not a limousine, to my relief -- and rode on towards the beginning of the Interstellar Compact.

Quick! Your friend gifted you some tickets to the carnival today, and you promised them a themed party! Item? You've got nothing in the house and certainly no circus-themed food! Luckily, you live in the 21st century, so you ordered some from Amazon for same day delivery because that's your first world privilege, baby (check it!), and all was well. "BUT WAIT!," screamed Billy Mays outside your window. "There's more! You need one hundred fifty words for this plot to come true, so you have to start talking real elaborate-like, using locution of which that you aren't sure how to use such as...locution. Also, instead of using contractions like aren't, you gotta *ahem* got to use their full forms like 'are not.' If you order my especially Super Special Ever Longer Lasting Words (TM) right now for free, you can get another for the low, low price of free as well!" You thank the legend, Billy Mays, and hear the doorbell ring. The Amazon delivery was just in time.

The carnival themed party at my place was a success. Now my friends Bob, Cobb, Gob, and I were heading to the downtown park for the Midnight Carnival, a carnival that appears only around midnight on this auspicious day. Beyond the entrance gates was a sight to behold. The carnival really was magnificent and mystical as they say. The warm carnival lights reflected on the blades of grass, like there were fireflies on each one. However, this creepy guy has been following me for ten straight minutes, and nobody seems to notice him. Now, that I'm at the creepy fun-house attraction, he seems eager to join me on the ride. I stifled a scream and blacked out. "Is Billy ok?" said Bob, poking the fainted lump in the seat. "Maybe those brownies earlier weren't such a good idea," said Cobb "he's been freaking out about his shadow for the past 10 minutes." Gob sighed and threw Billy over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and they headed home.