Adventure World

Mr Adventure World

Ken feels enough time has elapsed from an incident in 2018 for him to return to Adventure World for a day with the kids. He maintains it’s not his fault. If that muppet didn’t want his face bitten then he shouldn’t have beat Ken on the go-karts in front of his kids. 

He arrives at the ex-misso’s house in an old AU falcon that is spewing out more toxic fumes than Shanghai airport’s smoking area after a Chinese business conference. Like a true gentleman, he honks his horn until his kids come out. 

“Now Ken, make sure the kids eat their packed lunches and have them home by 7 OK?” Ken pretends to listen and nods blankly, “yes darl, I’m not an idiot, anyway, have you found me collection of Australia’s Funniest Home videotapes? Been bored shitless without em”. His children, 8 and 9, stare blankly at their father and turn their focus back to their iPhones. 

Ken fires up the Falcon, cracks a can of Jim Beam and slides on a pair of fake RayBans he stole in Kuta, “remember, daddy’s medicine is our little secret orright, don’t want the dragon woman breathing down me neck about a few cold ones on me day off”. Next stop: Ad-vennnn-turrree WORLD.

Ken cracks his second can in the car park while rifling through his boot to find the sunscreen. He is dressed magnificently: vintage Hot Tuna singlet, Unit boardies, double pluggers and a Bad Boy hat that’s been hammered by more elements than a periodic table’s swinger’s party. 

He carelessly slops sunscreen on his children while balancing a dart in his mouth and periodically sipping out of his lukewarm can. He proceeds to the front gate and almost dies of shock when he hears it will cost $165 for the family pass. 

He briefly considers the logistics of shoving his youngest in his bag but decides against it as the bag is full of his special medicine. Finally, he pays under the express understanding that he will be right back at the booth demanding a refund if even one ride is down for maintenance. 

After the unpleasantness at the gate, Ken walks in and is amongst his people. Herds of diabetic bogans roam the grounds, scoffing Burger Rings and passing around communal 1.25L bottles of Homebrand cola. 

Ken examines what his ex missus packed them for lunch, “you have got to be kidding me”, Ken states as pulls out glad wrapped jam rolls, vegemite sandwiches (on multigrain), mandarins and little water bottles. 

While entry fees are like kryptonite to Ken, when it comes to greasy sustenance, he will spare no expense. “Come on kids, let’s get some proper lunch in”. Ken and his little dream team hammer down hot dogs and wedges while he instructs his kids to throw the mandarins at a family he doesn’t like the look of. 

After a serious dose of trans fats, Ken decides to retire to the drinking area while he sends his kids off to enjoy the thrills of the Kraken, the Abyss and the Rampage. He offers some parting advice on his kids, “push in if yas can”. 

Oh, and they do just that. Their matching rat-tails serve as a warning to any would-be complainant: let them be, or you will have to deal with Ken, who incidentally is now 8 cans down. 

Before the day is at an end, Ken decides to get some value from his wristband. He stops off at the pool to drain the lizard and then proceeds to the Goliath with his kids. Unfortunately, Ken is a little fat for the ride and 2 ride operators do their best to lock his harness down.

It takes some doing but Ken is strapped in while sucking in his gut. As the ride spins, Ken feels the unpleasantness of pressure on his stomach, 8 cans of cheap bourbon and intense spinning. As soon as the ride stops, he sprays half-digested bain-marie food all over the other guests. 

“What a waste of 3 cans, ah well, least I’m under the limit now”. Even at his lowest moment, Ken can seems to just keep winning.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?