Carnivals offer games and food, but games are where it's at

This week it's Mundelein Days, but the scene will repeat in dozens of towns before summer's end.

The carnival is in town.

You've got the rides, of course. Boys scream like girls on Pharaoh's Fury. Loose change drops from spinning cars on the Zipper.

There's plenty of food with no claim to be healthy. Nutrition Facts are nowhere to be seen. Have an Elephant Ear, corn dog or cotton candy without guilt.

And make sure you check out the games of chance. The odds are in your favor. Hardly anyone leaves empty-handed.

The duck pond. The squirt gun game. Ring the milk bottle. Sink a basket. These are games your dad played and his dad before him. But instead of winning Kewpie Dolls you get a "Diva" pillow, a pirate sword or an overstuffed SpongeBob.

And there's darts of course. Choose your victim and take home their poster.

Take aim at Taylor Swift or Hannah Montana. Nail Zac Efron in the cheek and now you've got something to hang on your bedroom wall.

With booths on either side, a stroll down the grassy lane offers a sensual assault. A collision of sights and sounds.

Lime green neon tubes glow. Flashing blue police lights rotate. Bells ring like recess time at school. Machine gun BBs rip through paper targets.

Watch where you're walking. Don't trip on the black hydraulic hoses. Don't step on the melted cheese.

There's someone touting the Whac-A-Mole game on the right while Lisa Yankie pitches the Bug Buster game on your left.

The microphone a centimeter from her lips, her fist full of cash, she chants without thinking. The Ohio woman has been hawking the game for 16 years.

"It just takes two to get started. Hey ladies, now's a good time. We got a winner in every race. Always one winner. It just takes two to get started."

Four skinny preteen girls giggle, then pause, then keep walking.

"It just takes two to get started. Give it a try. Just three dollars. Knock 'em down and win. It just takes two to get started."

Richard Simms runs the goldfish game.

Dozens of bowls on wooden slats, the game hasn't changed in decades. Five-inch glass globes imprison the anxious fish.

"You don't need any skill in this game," Simms says. "Just toss the Ping-Pong ball in the goldfish bowl and you win. It's all in the bounce."

Simms says they'll go through almost 2,000 fish during a four-day festival.

"We set a record last year," Simms said. "A little kid from named Miguel went home with 13 fish. Nobody's come close to that."

Pete Kasin is a third generation concessionaire. His family has been running the games for Skinner Amusements since 1939. Tonight, he's working the "bass" fishing booth.

"Fishy, fishy on the hook. Come on over and take a look. Daddy catch 'em as fast as you can. Mommy fry 'em in the pan."

"The games sell themselves," Kasin says "We don't really hawk the games. We just explain how they work."