“Step right up!” the carnival barker shouted at the crowd milling about. “That’s right step right up and see amazing wonders that will astound the mind, astonish the heart, and shake every man, woman, and child to their very core!”
As Terry was passing by, he couldn’t help but listen to the barker’s outrageous claims. Plus with his red and white striped vest and straw pork pie hat, making him look like he had just stepped out of an old picture, the barker’s routine was even more entertaining. Terry knew he had some time before his ex-wife would drop off the kids, so he decided to stop and listen for a little bit.
“For merely ten dollars—that’s right, just one portrait of the great Alexander Hamilton—you will be granted passage into the tent directly to my left and be able to spy these wondrous sights for yourself!” The barker noticed Terry standing in the crowd and twirled the curled end of his moustache between his thumb and forefinger. “You, sir!” he said, pointing at him with his bamboo cane. “You look like a man of strong mettle and resolve, but I wager that even you will be shocked by the sights you will find within the tent beside me!”
Terry smiled. He was naturally competitive, so hearing the word “wager” sounded like his kind of challenge. “What’s the bet?” he asked above the dull noise of the crowd.
“Just an expression, my good man,” the barker replied, keeping up the act. “Beyond being sinful, gambling is a detriment to both the mind and body.”
“No,” Terry said, walking up closer, “let’s make it interesting. If I’m not ‘shaken to my core,’ than I don’t have to pay.”
“Suppose I agree,” the barker said, lowering his voice but keeping up the old timey style, “what’s my prize when you’re proven both wrong and foolish?”
“If I lose, then I have to pay for the attraction,” Terry said, thinking that part was obvious.
“It seems to me,” the barker said, “that in your scenario, you risk nothing. Were you to see my attraction with no wager, you would pay the standard fee for the privilege. Yet if you are proven correct in your assumption, I forfeit my payment. Those, my good man, are hardly balanced stakes.”
“What do you suggest?” Terry asked.
“Why not ten dollars on either side?” the barker said, holding his hands out like a scale. “If you find what’s within this tent mundane, you pay nothing. But if—or rather, when—you are truly left in shock and awe by sights and sounds, then you pay double the entrance fee.”
Terry nodded. “I can manage that.”
“Very good!” the barker said. “Hand me your ten dollars and you will be admitted.”
Terry took two five dollar bills from his wallet and held them out to the barker. Just as the barker was about to retrieve the cash, Terry pulled his hand back. “Now, I get this back if I’m not amazed by that I see, right?”
“I give you my word as a carnival worker,” the barker said, his left hand over his heart and his right hand held up beside him.
“Okay,” Terry said handing the money over. “So, I just go through here?” he asked.
“Indeed!” the barker said, gesturing in the direction of the tent with his cane, his enthusiasm as high as ever.
Terry walked up the tent where a worker opened the curtain that acted as the front door. Inside, he saw several booths, each with its own curtain and a worker to operate the way in, many of them sitting on benches. Terry walked up to the closest booth. It was operated by a tall, gaunt man with a scraggly beard and a strong smell of cigarettes.
“Alright,” he said, “let’s see what’s behind curtain number one.”
“That’ll be a dollar,” the worker said, his voice accentuated by both a slight southern drawl and aggressive apathy.
“Wait,” Terry said, taken aback. “I never agreed to that.”
“If you want to see what’s inside,” the man said, whistling on his S sounds, “you got to pay a dollar.”
Terry stormed back out of the tent through the way he came in, fumbling a little with the tent flap. Once outside, he shouted at the barker.
“Hey!” he called out, causing the barker to stop his routine and turn around to face Terry. “You owe me ten dollars!”
“You saw the sights within and yet were not left in shock and awe?” the barker asked.
“No,” Terry replied angrily. “I didn’t see anything. You didn’t tell me I’d have to pay again when I was inside.”
“So,” the barker said, once again stroking the end of his curled moustache, “you saw nothing inside the tent?”
“Are you even listening?” Terry annoyedly asked. “No, I didn’t see anything.”
“And you saw nothing of your own free will and choice?” the barker asked.
“If you mean I chose not to pay to see whatever was behind each of those stupid curtains inside,” Terry said, emphasizing each word,” then yeah, I chose not to be fleeced.”
“Well then, my good man,” the barker said, resting his hands on his bamboo cane, “I don’t owe you a dime.”
“How’s that?” Terry asked, his angry turning his words to ice.
“The wager was that I would repay your entrance fee if you were not shocked by the sights inside,” the barker explained. “You went inside, but saw nothing, voiding the terms the agreement.”
“And now you’re going to tell me that I owe you another ten bucks, right?” Terry asked, his brow as furrowed as humanly possible.
“Not at all,” the barker said cheerfully. “You violated the wager, so you merely owed me the price of admission, which has already been paid.”
Terry was silent, slowly realizing that the barker was right. He was still angry, but he didn’t know what else to say. “I bet you think you’re so smart,” he finally managed, “cheating people out of their money.”
The barker leaned over and said quietly to Terry: “This is a carnival, son. Half the fun is getting cheated.”
Terry stormed off towards the Tilt-O- Whirl where he promised to meet his kids. Just behind him, he could hear the barker call out: “Step right up…”
