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For a Limited Time Only-second draft

The large crowd that lined the city sidewalk pressed against the steel, police barricades.  Several officers, some on foot and others mounted on horses paced up and down the streams of people, checking for stragglers who may have escaped from the clearly defined maze.

The air was heavy and warm which was not unusual for late summer in New York.  It was one of life’s great ironies – the weekend that marked the end of summer activities and a return to the drudgery of work and school was usually accompanied by gloriously, sunny weather.  Labor Day – the grand reminder that life was not a perpetual picnic.   Get off your ass and go back to work.

One of the mounted policemen grew tired of repeatedly circling the same route and decided to follow the line of people to its source.  He turned to one of the flatfoots, indicated with his head that he was leaving, and headed for the front of the line.

He let out a low whistle as he passed the scores of people.  The cue stretched from the entrance of the park right up to the Great Lawn.  Had to be a few miles at least.  All over some stupid, carney act.  He shook his head.  Why was a permit approved for something so stupid?  The whole thing was a New York Post expose waiting to happen.  He didn’t give it too much thought though.  Let the boys at City Hall figure it out.  His job was crowd control and nothing more.

He stared ahead, his eyes stinging from the hot sun.  He lowered his sunglasses from on top of his head and tried to find the center of the attraction.  There seemed to be a large, yellow and red tent at the neck of the long line.  He nudged his horse and headed for it.

His eyes stung from the blaring sun and he lowered his sunglasses from on top of his head.  It made things a bit clearer as he searched for the center of the attraction.  As he searched the general area, he finally recognized the faint outline of what seemed to be a large, circus tent.  He nudged his horse and headed in its direction.

The sounds from the crowd of people seemed to change as he grew closer.  Back at the park’s entrance, their voices and body language reflected anger and impatience.  As the tent grew closer, he could feel their growing excitement.

“Step right up folks, don’t be shy.”  A tall, gangly man dressed in white overalls was shouting through a megaphone from near the front of the tent.  “Five bucks, that’s five measly dollars will get you a glimpse of one of  the most unusual oddities of our time.”

He could see that some of the people were reaching into their pockets, while others held the green notes in their hands and waved them eagerly.  Beads of sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he urged the horse on.

He finally slowed down about ten feet from the entrance of the tent, surprised at how nervous he was to approach any further.  He could stare down a crack addict holding a rusty knife with no problem, but this…well, this was something completely different.

He forced the horse to a complete halt and looked around.  An attractive, blond woman was standing at the front of the line, collecting money from people. Her partner, a small round man, was letting them out from behind a velvet rope, one by one.  “One at a time, one at a time people,” he instructed the excited crowd “Everybody gets two minutes inside. No more, no less.  Hey you!”  He yelled to a teenage boy who was trying to sneak out of the barricade.  “Back in line.” He shook his head in disapproval.  “Kids.”

The blond woman glanced up at him and met his gaze.  “What about you officer?  Want a look?  No charge.” Her tone was flirtatious.

He dismounted his horse and held on tightly to the reigns, trying to decide if he wanted to approach the tent.

“Five bucks for a once in a lifetime experience, folks.” The hawker was standing near him, winding up the crowd with his megaphone.  “For a limited time only, you get to see a genuinely bona fide, U.S.A certified, one hundred percent guaranteed, absolutely genuine, flesh and blood, real life, smart person!”

Someone gasped from behind the velvet ropes and he could see that some of the spectators were beginning to push against each other , impatient to get to the front.

“Mama, what’s a smart person?”  He heard a little boy near him ask.

He looked over, instinctively.

“Well, honey,” she tilted her head to the side and stared vacantly at the trees in the distance.  “A smart person is someone who knows how to think and stuff.”  She looked down at her son to see if he understood.  It was clear from the expression on his face that he didn’t  “They, uh,” she struggled to find the right words.  “They know how to make decisions.” She nodded, happy with her choice.  “Know how to figure things out.”

The little boy seemed confused.

She thought for a moment and then offered, “They know how to do math, without a calculator.”

“Oh.” Her son’s eyes grew wide.  “Without a calculator?”  He was quiet, contemplating the information.  “But how?”

Hi mother shrugged her shoulders.  “Who knows?  That’s why they call them smart.”

He turned his head away from the mother and son and back towards the tent.  The conversation left him intrigued and he crooked his finger at the blond woman.

She walked over stood uncomfortably close to him. “Change your mind officer?”

He handed her his horse’s reigns and headed for the tent.

As he walked past the line of people, he could see the round man stopping the next person from walking up. Someone shouted, ‘That’s not fair!” He ignored it and kept walking.

He stopped when he reached the entrance to the tent and looked inside.  A youngish looking man of about 35 years old of age was sitting in a big easy chair.  A large metal bar ran across the front of the tent and served as a barrier between him and the world outside spectators.

He peered in curiously, trying to get a closer look.

“Hello.”  The young man greeted him from across the metal bar.

“Hi.”  He looked down self-consciously at his boots and began to make little swirls in the sandy floor.

“Did you want to say something?”  His clear voice reflected a mixture of resignation and amusement.

He looked up.  “So you’re the smart guy, huh?”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“And you know how to figure things out?”

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

“What’s it like, being smart?”

He shrugged.  “Not sure what you mean by that.”

“Well,” He shoved his hands into his uniform pockets.  “What does a person like you do all day, you know for fun?”

The young man smiled faintly.  “Well, I read a lot…”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I think about things, wonder why the world is the way it is…”

He found that he had stopped listening.  The young man continued listening, but he wasn’t able to pay attention to what he was saying. He was starting to feel uncomfortable.  Something wasn’t quite right.  There was a sharp pain in the center of his forehead and his palms began sweating. What was happening to him? He took his hands out of his pockets, trying to find comfort, but it didn’t help.

As interested as he was in what the young man was saying, he was finding it hard to pay attention.  Something was making him feel uncomfortable.  He shifted his weight onto his front legs and took his hands out of his pockets.  As he looked down at them, he noticed that his palms were sweating.  What was happening to him?

The young man noticed that something was wrong.  “Are you all right?”

“I’m, I’m not sure.”  He loosened the top button of his shirt and breathed in deeply, but the feeling persisted. To make matters worse, he was beginning to experience a sharp stinging in the center of his forehead, directly above his eyebrows. He scrunched his eyebrows, trying to ward off the  pain.  Could he be getting sick?

He was about to excuse himself and look for some Advil, when he found himself wanting to say something.  Suddenly, he realized what was happening.  He was having a thought!  Jesus F-ing Christ!  That’s what all the pain was about.  No wonder they had to lock these bastards away in some freak show.  They were too fucking dangerous.  “I uh…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“What?” The young man was becoming impatient.

“Well, I just had a thought.”  The word sounded strange as it formed itself on his tongue but he decided to continue anyway.  He had come this far.  “Since you are so smart and you think about stuff all day, what are you doing sitting here in some carney tent?  I mean, you could really help people, you know.  He pointed to the crowd of people waiting outside.  “Look at all of them,” his words became more cohesive as he continued.  “Think about how much you could do for them, you could teach them things, help them to think and make decisions.  You know?

The young man looked outside at the crowd that was waiting outside of the tent.  It looked like an enormous, headless serpent whose body intermittently  bulged and bloated as if having recently swallowed a prey of some kind.  He looked back at the man in front of him.  “I think your two minutes are up.”  His voice was cold and flat.

“But, I just got here.” He was surprised that he didn’t want to leave.

“Get out before I have you thrown out.”

“Calm down buddy,” his ears were becoming hot.  “No reason to get nasty.  I was just asking you a question.”  He paused and then slowly walked out of the tent, strangely embarrassed over the interaction.

As he headed for his horse he heard the young man calling out.

“Listen Eddie, from now on.  Don’t let them talk to me, allright?”

5 responses to “For a Limited Time Only-second draft”

  1. I like the concept! It is funny and shows a reality that is shameful and aggravating. There is, however, one paragraph that I find awkward:

    He found that he had stopped listening. The young man continued listening, but he wasn’t able to pay attention to what he was saying. He was starting to feel uncomfortable. Something wasn’t quite right. There was a sharp pain in the center of his forehead and his palms began sweating. What was happening to him? He took his hands out of his pockets, trying to find comfort, but it didn’t help.

    It doesn’t seem to flow as well as the rest of the story.

  2. lgharte says:

    I agree. I think part of the problem is that I deliberately didn’t want any of the characters to have names, so it became difficult to describe actions and feelings. I’m not sure if it works. What do you think? Should I give the police officer a name?

  3. Interesting. making them nameless is a good touch as it allows a bit of “they are us; we are them” – something that makes the story hit home even more. I’m wondering if the problem is that I do want to know more about the officer. I want to know more about the “smart person”. Not their names, but is the “smart person” just an opportunist? Is the officer doubtful that “smart people” actually exist?

    I’m starting to believe that for me the problem is simply that I want more. LOL

  4. Lori.Romano says:

    Lorri–I really enjoyed this, and I do agree that it makes things interesting not to use too many names. However, as I was reading, I thought an easy way to incorporate at least the name of the officer would be to use the blonde woman…

    She walked over stood uncomfortably close to him. “Change your mind officer?”

    You could have her read his name off his badge, even say it sort of sarcastically, which would fit well with her character. Just a thought.

    Also, just a couple of more technical comments for you to think about…In paragraph 4, you use the word “stupid” twice. And in paragraph 5, the word “searched”. I just thought perhaps it might help the flow to choose a synonym in those cases for a little more variety.

    Overall, I am really digging the story, but I agree with Kristina–I want more! :-)

  5. lgharte says:

    Thanks for the suggestions. It’s amazing how I’ll notice that something seems repetitive, and not realize that’s it’s because I’ve repeated a word!
    I don’t know how much more I’m going to write because it was just meant as a short, short story, but we’ll see.

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