“I’m not touching that.”

“Why not.”

“Don’t know where it’s been.”

“It’s harmless. Come on,” holding out the ball. “You’ll win a prize.”

“Which’ll break before the nights out.”

“Just see if you can beat the machine?”

Fingertips clasp the plastic ball, poised for the perfect moment. Fingers release, passing smooth gums of an open, dark, toothless mouth. The ball rolls down the throat spilling from the open chest cavity, as the vacant painted face swivels in a procession line of stiff necks.

“Ow.” Shaking her fingers. “Something scratched me.”

“Sorry, you lose.”

As teeth recede into open reddened gums.