Cass found the prize-booth nestled in a far corner. The stall’s sign read “Silver Bullet,” rendered with a grim
font
in metallic grey despite the surrounding plush toys. It was a simple shooting gallery with elevating rows and
suburban homes on each end. There were no other customers lining up to brandish a plastic light gun.
The slim man behind the counter caught Cass’s gaze. Rather than barking out some corny advertising, the man just
nodded. A silent invitation to pull the trigger.
“They made a game off that movie?” Johnny remarked.
“What movie?”
“The Stephen King one.” Cass couldn’t tell if his look of surprise was fake or not. “It’s real goofy. We’ll watch
it
tonight.”
“Not sure if more movies is a good idea.”
“Hey, you two!” The booth attendant called. “If y'all want a good idea, might I suggest…” he waved his arms,
showing off the game. Then he held out his hand. “Five bucks for a round.”
Affordable, but Cass spied his boyfriend’s skeptical reaction. Before Johnny could object, Cass took out his
wallet.
“I don’t need to explain a shooting range, right?” the attendant continued as he took the money. “Fifteen points
for
the top shelf prizes, ten for the middle, etcetera.” He turned a key below the counter. “Shoot the moon to
start.”
Cass aimed at the moon beside the score display and pulled the trigger. A small laser dot blipped on its surface
then
a poorly recorded howl played. Quickly, cutouts of a kid in a wheelchair, a little girl, and a man with a bottle
popped up. Between them, werewolves dashed from houses on each row. For five bucks it was over just as it began,
and
Cass’s score of four sat under the threshold for the lowest-tiered prize.
“Woof. Didn’t say it was easy, bud,” the attendant shrugged. “Five to try again.”
Johnny side-hugged Cass. “There’s other games, babe.”
“Hang on!” The man behind the booth lit up. “You guys’re really a couple?”
Cass and Johnny exchanged a look. Johnny was right. Cass set the gun back and would’ve checked out the other
stalls
for a present, but the attendant pulled a small box onto the counter.
“Wait, no, that’s perfect, ya see. Listen,” he quickly said, “I have a, uh, couple’s special! Worth more than any
of
this stuffed trash.”
Cass looked back at this offer. The attendant held a necklace by the string, weighed down by an iridescent,
thumbnail-sized jewel set into a shining grey pendant. It was beautiful enough to reel Cass back in.
“It’s a genuine moonstone, and real silver.” The attendant let the couple get a better look. The stone became the
eye
for the silver wolf-shape. Its opulent quality enthralled Cass. It was infinitely superior to the toys hanging
on
the booth. Even the string had a reddish-brown hue, like a strip of faux leather rather than a cheap thread.
Hanging
from Johnny’s neck it’d be perfect. “Or so some lady told me,“ the man continued. “Her family apparently makes
them
and when she took a loss here, too, she insisted I take it. But I’m not into stuff like this, and maybe y’all
are,
if ya wanna try for it!”
