It was the young boy’s first day with the carnival,
and the boss commenced his instruction thus:
“Kid  --   you always need a sales pitch –
a rap to push the product along, ‘cause you gotta remember:
if you can’t eat it  --  people really don’t need it,
and the more intellectualized and well fed they are,
the less importance there will be to what people spend their money and attention on;
so through your spiel it is your job to help them rationalize wasting their time and money on a useless activity like the one we’re humpin’ here.

City folk work hard all day at jobs that mostly bore them,
and come here for some entertaining distractions;
trying to fool our Age Guesser; knocking over bottles with a ball;
squeezing The Electronic Lover’s Machine hard enough to get a Casanova Rating,
trying to find their way through the House Of Mirrors,
or visiting the Freak’s Tent and having a laugh at another human's expense --
all not unlike much of what is commonly available to them when we are not in town
(via churches, colleges, political rallies, self improvement lectures,
movies, books and conversations)
but humans have a taste for the seeming exotic --  a constant need for new diversions

But it is not as easy as just rolling into town and setting up --  no, no;
first the advance men go through a place putting up posters
excitedly proclaiming the astonishing pleasures which await those
who avail themselves of what our upcoming visit will have to offer;
no promise is too outrageous, and no rube ever asks for his money back
(city people understand well  --   hype  –  their whole lives are built around it).
What we provide them are dreams  --
their physical experience with us is secondary, almost of no consequence  --
it is what their imaginations tell them is going on when they are on with us that counts;
we are dream merchants, my boy  --   hawkers of mind-trips,
but to make town folk feel comfortable indulging in these frivolous time-outs
away from serious city business
requires our verbal support, ergo I say:

It is not that a townie feels that he cannot afford the price to have our Psychic
tell-his-future
but his city mind so rebels at the notion that he needs the unrestrained reassurance that only a self-serving huckster can provide  --  Voila again!  --  it's us my boy --

You must continually be out in front of whichever attraction is your day’s responsibility  --  singing loudly, and above all, faux passionately --  its praises and rewards,
and feel not at all confined in what you promise,
for no matter how ludicrous it may be,
while they are here with us  --   city people will never question it.

Once a passing sucker hesitates --  ever so slightly  –  just for a moment --

* Or vice versa
 
 
 
 
 

For those of you still confused over the actual setting of stories reported on here (such as the conversations between a Father and a Son)  note that all of the above took place within a six square inch area.
..................Oh yeah  --  and only one person was present.