Deep-fried gods were best in summer, drizzled with the over-played hopes of the faithful on the very top. They were sweet and fatty and tart, and contained all the things necessary to be good fair food. The outards were crunchy with misunderstood commandments and the woes of the wronged, and just below that was a spongy layer containing the remorse of the enlightened. The sweet and sour innard was the part Jerry liked most. It tasted like justice and sadness and the tears of the afflicted, which was all he asked for, out of food from an overpriced amusement park.