The carnival




• I'm wondering when this splintered wooden gazebo will collapse on my head. Since I'm a seer I'm supposed to know when it will happen. I'm supposed to know how old it is too, but I don't. All I know is it isn't going to hold up much longer under this crazy Georgian weather we're having. I'm under this death trap of a stupid thing because they don't think my act warrants them spending money on a new building or a canvas tent like everyone else has. They didn't even provide me with my own crystal ball. I picked one up last year for ten dollars at a New Age store in downtown Memphis. My wardrobe consists of a burgundy turban and long gold earrings inlaid with pearls. I wear a matching purple saffron robe. If I don't fit the stereotype people won't think they're getting ripped off. Don't get me wrong, they want to take me seriously, but not that seriously. It's their way of having insurance in case they don't like what I tell them. They can say, "Oh, that old crackpot with a crystal ball? She works at a carnival for a reason you know."
  
  There's enough eyeliner and makeup on my face to make me look twenty years older. My friends have always asked me when I would retire. They say I'm burned out and that this job has just about sucked the life out of me. I always tell them, when my real face catches up with my makeup-face, that's when I'll quit. The truth is I want to quit, but at the same time I can't.
  
  Earlier today I did a reading for a seventeen-year-old boy, still young enough to believe in the illusion of love and hope. He still believes that maybe, just maybe if he makes all the right choices his life will be good. He's still too young to realize that you can't cheat life. To quote a good friend of mine, Reagren Wright, "life fucks each and every one of us equally and indiscriminately". My job isn't to destroy anyone's naivety, or conversely, to coddle anyone. My job requirements are to simply state the truth, however tragedy-laden it might be. This boy wanted to know if Sarah were the one. He wanted to know what their futures held. I didn't want to tell him that she was a shameless junky. That he would spend almost a year in prison because of her. Or that he would contract a blood-born disease from sharing needles and having sex with her. How do you tell someone that? I took a sip of some bourbon, gnashed my teeth over the nasty tatse and just dealt with it.
  
  Not everything is so pitch-black around here though. Sometimes there are light-hearted cases that break up the monotony. Today, a man came in here flirting with me. He didn't look at my cleavage, which apparently turns all the heads. He just locked his eyes into mine and told me how interesting he thought I was and how beautiful. I didn't want to tell him that he was gay, and that he would finally admit it to himself three weeks and twelve hours and forty-five minutes from now. He would try to pick up a girl from Cleaner's Bar on 7th Avenue in Atlanta. He'd get her home and wouldn't be able to perform. At first he'd blame it on the rum. When she left he would finally come to terms with it. I don't have time to baby sit someone who doesn't know if he likes the hot dog or the taco. I only owe him the truth and I tell him. Lucky for him the crystal ball and the purple towel on my head can ease his conscience for a while. I'm just a carnie, a nut case. He can just think that I'm a little off. Until he goes to that bar and picks up that brunette and the humorous reality will come crashing down on his head like this wooden gazebo. Just his luck. Just my luck, that this strapping young man was as gay as a lavender butterfuly. I never said my job wasn't hard and it takes all kinds.
  
  Some futures are malleable. Some are not. Sometimes no matter what you do you're stuck with it. Other times you can avoid it. Either way, you can chose how to deal with it and therefore I've never believed in destiny. Funny thing, that I never believed in destiny being a psychic and all. You can always make lemonade, right? That's what I want to believe and that's the part of me that keeps me going. It keeps me from ending it. Until next time, I leave you with my wisdom. The daily grind of my day telling fortunes and taking people's money.