My friend James is writing a short story involving carnies and con men during the depression. I have not read this story, but I offered to complete it for him. These were his options:
1. And then, with one swift motion, the hot dog was entirely devoured. It was gone and in it’s place was my sadness. The sadness of leaving something behind. But it was not left behind. It was in my stomach. Intestines, mechanically separated chicken. Bits of sawdust. Bits of rat.
2. For all the world could see the impact of the carnie. Bright colors and bad taste. They will be with us forever. Forever and a day.
3. Love for the bearded woman was shed like so many pounds from the fat woman. It was over. It was all over and I was crushed. Literally, crushed.
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