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For a few seconds, he didn't quite know what was going on. The world turned sideways before a wash of sparks and glitter. It fell over his eyes like he was having a blood-rush. The back of his skull throbbed with pain to the beat of his heart. His breathing slowed. And yet he was still controlling the car. He spun to the left, a three-quarter turn, and pushed forward. The fireworks before his eyes dissipated and he swiveled to the right to avoid hitting a sea-green pod. The shock of the pain finally ebbed and he turned one-eighty as he neared the wall. He sped forward, jamming the yoke as far away from him as he could. The car huffed and puffed beneath him with each jerk of the yoke, and he floated across the smooth metal floor, but for the rivets that made his vehicle jerk ever so slightly. The sea-green pod charged him again; he twisted left this time but not far enough. The tire-frame that buffered the cars met and emitted a terrible grunt of friction as they scraped against one another. A purple car took advantage of their clash and crashed into his car--the jerk of his head hit the back of the seat. This time the pain was less severe, as he had been hit from the side and the full brunt of the impact did not hit squarely. But the right side of his brain winced and felt bloated. He backed up, and was suddenly shaken again by an unseen force hitting him from behind. A tear dropped down his cheek and beaded at his whisker. "Hey!" He heard someone yell over the music. He glanced left, in the direction of the shout, and saw out of the very periphery of his vision, a red car charge forward and bash the car behind him. The reverberated shock was minimal and thankfully no impact to his head was sustained, but that didn't save him from the bloated, throbbing pain of the whiplash. He took in a deep breath. He was starting to transcend it all. He gritted his teeth, and clasped both hands upon the yoke. He spun seven-twenty, again causing a friction-grunt with the cars around him. He stopped at a random degree and punched forward--right into the wall. But the impact didn't hurt very much. He turned his head to the side just as he felt the pressure of the bump. He backed up, his head firmly pushing against the back of the car should he get hit from behind again. He safely turned left and charged forward, getting revenge on the sea-green car for causing him so much grief. By now, even the beat of the music was beginning to make his head ache just a little. The heavy pulse of the bass began to wrack against his skull. The impact between him and the sea-green maniac sent them both backward a couple feet. He recovered and punched the yoke forward hard enough to feel like he would break it. The ache from his head leaked into his hand as he gripped the yoke intensely. The sea-green car played chicken and lost, forcing him to make a hair-pin turn, or as hair-pinned as he could make one, and he promptly selected his next target: his own mother. "Traitor!" She shouted as her son thundered forth and bashed her in the side. "Dogpile on Momma R.!" Emeral shouted, hitting the other side of the banana-yellow pod. "Monkey in the middle!" Momma B. shouted independently, hitting Micah from the front. Ket backed away just in time to keep from hearing the teeth-wrenching reel of rubber-against-rubber come from his own vehicle. He spotted a random target, blue, and went for it. The car had no chance, he attacked from behind. If this were a noble battle he would probably be considered a coward but this was Bumper-War, and all was fair. So was it fair that when he hit, the sparks washed over his eyes once again? His ears began to ring. It took him a moment to realize that this sound was coming from the speakers. He wiggled the yoke, but his car wouldn't move. "Not bad for a first time," the man who had helped in the beginning commented, offering a hand to the tiger cub. "Didja have fun?" "Yeah," Ket replied airily, his pulse still racing. "Whoa, easy now." The man said, keeping the tiger on-balance as he stepped off of the car. "All that spinning can make ya dizzy, eh?" Ket just nodded, unable to really think straight. He walked where the other people were walking, finding the blurry images of his mother and the Brillians. On the way out, he collected his hat and relinquished the helmet, but he got to keep the pain for free. "Man," Emeral said as they walked out of the tent. "That was exhausting! And all I did was sit around." Ket looked up at the sky. It was pitch black. "How long were we in there?" He asked. "Only about fifteen minutes." Momma B. said. "Was it worth the hour-long wait in line?" "Totally!" Emeral said with a smile. "I wish we could go again..." She looked at the line. Sadly, it almost looked longer than when they had first gotten into it. "You had fun, too, right Kitto?" Ket's mom asked. "Yeah," he nodded, and then had to catch himself by taking a step back as he teetered. "Little dizzy?" He forced a smile. "Yeah. Lots of spinning..." "Ugh," Emeral voiced distaste, "And that noise the cars made when they scraped against each other. That made my teeth hurt every time." "Mine, too," Momma R. agreed. "Soooo," Momma B. bit her lip. "Anyone else need to make a pit-stop?"

Ket stumbled from the porti-potty, the door slamming behind him. He ran several feet to where his mother and Emeral were waiting beneath a light. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils sucking up the wind. The smell of sizzling oil hit, tickling his sinuses to a sneeze. His headache pulsed. "Bless you," Emmy said, handing him a bottle of sanitizer. "Be careful, it poots out kinda fast." He popped open the cap with his thumb and turned it upside down. He squeezed the bottle, but nothing came out. A gentle shake, another squeeze. "Poot!" Emeral stated, as a glob of too much gel dribbled onto his hand. He closed the cap and she took the bottle from him while he rubbed his paws together, making sure to get it between his fingers. A bit of it even found its way into his claw-beds, which really stung. "Hey mom," Ket said, wiggling his fingers to fan them. "I think I smelled something kinda good a second ago." "Really?" She questioned, spotting Garne emerging from another plastic hut. "I haven't smelled anything good since we walked into this place." "Emmy hush," her mom scolded, retrieving the sanitizer from Micah with a thanks. "What?" Her daughter huffed. "It's true." "...Yeah..." She couldn't argue that, "but wait till we leave before you start saying that. Someone who works here could hear you." "Ket thinks he smelled something," Momma R. stated. "Wait," she just realized, "This smell came to you after you left the potty, right?" Emeral couldn't help the giggles. She was given a lancing glare from her mother. "I smelled it on the breeze, so..." he looked to where the wind was coming from, spotting food-stand lights between the criss-crossing crowd. "Maybe it's something over there." "Follow your nose, kiddo." Momma B. said. "Yeah," Emmy chimed, "Lead the way." Smelling the tendrils of that pervasive odor, they walked toward the food-stands with him at the lead. He sniffed several times, but the miasma was hard to sift through. Most of it smelled burnt, or like barbecue and meat. But then, as they passed a stand with several liquorish wires hanging from the ceiling, which almost made Emeral stop in her tracks, all four tigers caught the wind. Emeral took the lead this time as they jogged to the food-stand across the way. "I knew I smelled that before!" Ket said as he read the sign above the stand's window. "What's a funnel cake?" Emeral questioned. Her friend gave her a quizzical look. She gave him a sour one back. "What?" He smiled. "Usually I'm the one that's having to ask that. It's just funny, that's all." "Oh ha." She gently shoved him. But the motion was just a bit too much. He felt the pulse in his brain; another throb that made it feel like he had a pine-cone lodged in the back of his skull. "Step up, step up, you guys want a cake?" Spoke a naked mole-rat to the tiger-group, his energetic personality as exposed as his skin (what wasn't covered, at least). "Ain't a long wait; tastes great, and only eeeeeeeeeeeeight," his voice stretched the word, and then he quickly added, "bucks." Momma R. laughed. "Can't say no to that," she smiled at the young man. "Think you guys can help me eat it?" She asked, especially to the kids. "Sure," Ket said, and Emeral followed with an, "Okay." Momma B. handed over the bills. "All right," the man said, "Have a seat over there and we'll get it ready for ya." He pointed to some picnic tables set up in the lane. They sat mother next to child, and the two cubs across from each other. "So no one's told me yet," Emmy said. "What the heck is a funnel cake?" "It's like..." Ket started to say, and thought. "It's like a pretzel, but instead of salt there's lots of sugar." "Blegh pretzels are so salty." "Well he said this doesn't have salt, hun," her mom admonished. "Won't have to wait long, here it is." Momma R. stated as the young man came out with what looked to Emeral like a pizza at first. But when he set it down and bid them bón appetite, the tigress saw it was anything but a pizza. It was...like something she'd never seen. It looked like someone had unrolled a bunch of tumbleweeds and flattened them together, and then dumped a bunch of powdered sugar on it to pretend like it was edible. Ket immediately pulled a hunk off of his side of the cake, and popped the twisted bramble into his mouth, audibly expressing his satisfaction. "It doesn't look like a funnel," Emeral stated, pulling at a piece as she had seen Ket do. She intended to get only a little bit no bigger than a quarter, but wound up with a hunk that almost didn't fit in her palm. "It's called a funnel cake because the batter is poured through a funnel," Ket explained. Emeral just glanced at him, and then back at her hunk. It was steaming in her fingers, the powdered sugar dissolving on the soft bread. She blew on it to cool it. "Ptttth!" "Emmy!" "Wh-what?" She looked at her mom, and then at Ket. He rubbed his face and eyes. "That...that kinda stings," he groaned. "Come over here, let's wash it out," Momma R. said, taking Ket away from the table and pulling a water bottle out of her purse. "What'd I do?" Emmy questioned. "You blew powdered sugar all over your friend." Her mom stated flatly. She bit into a bit of cake and then saw her daughter was still giving her a questionable glance. "Don't look at me. I'm just being honest." Emeral watched nervously while Momma R. washed Ket's eye out, gently pouring water over his eyes to soothe them. It only took them a few minutes before they sat back down. She couldn't match his eyes. "Sorry." She mumbled. "It's okay," he mumbled back. Great. Now he's mad at me... "Have you tried it yet?" He asked. He made to rub his eye, but stopped himself. If only it didn't sting... She shook her head. "Well?" Her mom spoke rhetorically. Emeral had lost her desire to eat. Heck, she didn't really have one to start with. Guiltily, she drew the hunk of bread to her mouth, and pushed it in. She chewed it, and discovered that Ket was right. It was like a pretzel, without salt. It had...no taste at all. "And?" Her mom questioned rhetorically. "I like it." She half-lied. She didn't not like it... Ket pulled another hunk away, and so did their moms. They began eating away at the cake, while Emeral hesitantly pulled at another chunk. Again, it was bigger than she expected, but this time it wasn't as hot. She slowly pulled it into her mouth. It tasted sweeter with the sugar. Maybe if she hadn't decided to douse her boyfriend in it the first time she would have enjoyed the taste better, but even with the sugar it just tasted like guilt. Sweet delicious guilt. The cake disappeared quickly, mostly into everyone else's stomach. As Ket chomped on the last bits, Momma B. looked at the time. "Eight o'clock. We still have two hours." Her comment went unfollowed. "You two are awfully quiet." Momma R. said. "Don't tell me you guys are tired already." Momma B. said, bringing her energy up. "C'mon, let's go look for another thing to do. The night's still young and so are you!" Quietly, Ket got up and moved to Emmy's side of the table. He held out his hand. "C'mon," he said, kind quietly. "Awww," "How cute." "What?" Ket grumbled. "You don't want to us to get kid-napped do you?" "Are you guys gonna start being grumpy at each other again?" The cubs looked at each other, then looked away. "No," they replied in unison. "Well then let's go." Both moms took their cub's other hand, and as a band they walked in search of that fun thing to do. As Ket trudged on, his headache did the same. It grew. He could barely focus. A terrible ache that was more than just in the back of his head; it had expanded to the front and all about the sides. The sting in his eyes didn't help either. It had gone down but they were still irritated. He couldn't help but determine that everything was related to Emmy. The bump on his head was from her pushing him over at the rink. And then she had charged him in bumper-cars. She had also pushed him and bumped him, and then just now blew sugar in his eyes. He couldn't tell if she was doing it on purpose or what. Maybe she was lying about earlier. Maybe she was mad he hadn't said her dress was gorgeous to begin with. Maybe she was trying to send him a secret message like he had noticed girls often do. Their search didn't last very long, as Momma B. pointed ahead: "Oh look! A tunnel of loooove." "Haha!" Momma R. laughed, catching onto the idea. She looked to the kids. "You guys wanna go? Huuuuuh?" "Ew!" Emeral contorted her face. "I do not wanna go in there," she protested, and then pushed Ket away. Ket stumbled with a groan, and then held his head for a moment. The groan turned into a growl. "Emmy, my head frickin' hurts!" He thrust his hands down into fists at his sides, glaring at her. All three women stood in shock at the sudden outburst. "I--I'm sorry, I didn--" "Did you forget or something?" He ripped his hat off. "I have a goose-egg remember?" "You never said anyth--" "That doesn't mean it hasn't been hurting!" "Arkethius you need to calm down." The orange tiger, holding his head to keep his brain from swimming, looked back at the tigress he'd snapped at. Immediately he felt guilty. "I didn't mean it, Emeral," he mumbled. "Maybe we should go home," Momma R. suggested. "No!" Ket growled. "I'm fine. We haven't even played any games yet." "Maybe... we should go in the tunnel," Emeral said. "I mean--" she hastily corrected herself, "It'll be like floating down the lazy river at a water park. It's a calm ride, it won't hurt Ket's head." She held one arm with the other. "...At least I hope not." She hoped he'd take. It was obvious he was angry at her. Why wouldn't he be? She should have seen signs--or at least asked him if he was okay. She hadn't done so much at all today. But that was because he always got upset about being asked. But if she had asked he probably would have grumbled at her anyway. Ket sighed. "I don't...really wanna ride it..." he muttered, watching the swan-boats drift past them. "Oh," the young tigress bit her lip. "Well..." "Let's you and me go, Emmy." Momma B. stated. "You guys maybe wanna take a break for a bit?" Momma R. smiled. "Sure. We'll take it easy for a bit." "Sounds good. C'mon Em'n'Ems." The mother and daughter left for the line of the ride, which wasn't very long. For a moment or so the daughter glanced back with worry at her friend. "He'll be fine," her mom said. "We'll just give him a bit of time to cool off." The Rachauns waited on a small bench. The swan-boats floated by them before disappearing into the tunnel of mystery. Most likely it was just a dark tunnel, giving couples a chance to kiss or something. As Ket watched his friend and her mother clamber into a swan, he heard a series of beeps in his ear. The cold metal ring of the thermometer tickled the center of his brow as his mom's arm obscured some of his vision. It dragged across the right side of his head, all the while sampling the furnace in his brain. "A hundred point three*," she said. "You don't have a fever." Just to confirm, she did it a second time while Ket watched the Brillians' swan enter the tunnel. Hopefully there wouldn't be any weird kissing going on between them... "So, little mister." He glanced at his mother. "Huh?" "Why don't you tell me how you really feel?" He looked at her for a moment longer, and then went back to staring straight ahead. "I'm fine." He replied. "When Emmy gets back you're going to apologize to both of them, got it?" "Yes ma'am." "Are you sure you don't want to go home?" "I don't!" He replied, almost in a panic. "I really don't!" "Okay. okay." She spoke soothingly, stroking his back. "Me and Garne just wanna make sure ou kids are having fun. I'm sure Emmy doesn't want you to be miserable, either." "I'm not miserable," he grumbled. "Just... cuz of the bumper-cars..." "Here's what I want you to do," his mom said, laying a hand on his shoulder and massaging him gently. "If you're intent on staying, you have to start having fun. Even if you have to force yourself a little; at least do it for their sakes." She moved to the other shoulder. "But, don't do anything that you think might hurt your head. We'll all understand, okay?" "Yes ma'am." "Honestly kid," she said absently, pulling his snout to her bosom into a quick hug, tenderly placing a hand on the goose-egg. "I hope this whole vacation doesn't ruin your friendship." The Brillians' swan came out of the tunnel. Emeral's head was against her mom's shoulder, her ears flat and her eyes caste downward. Ket wrinkled his brow. It won't. He resolved.

*According to teh innernetz, the average temperature of a tiger is 99.5 F degrees. A fever would probably be around 102, maybe?