The carnie life – with its scent of deep-fried chocolate wafting through the air. What’s it like – behind the scenes of the carnival, when it arrives on the first warm day of spring?
Dead carnies don’t need a bench to sit on, but they’ve got one just the same. Cold, black metal, punched with holes. None but a ghost — a carnie ghost, whistling tattoo memories — would choose it.
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