To hell with costumes, I want that guy's booth gig. A trap door for food, a chemical toidy as my seat; just dolly me around from town to town and I'm good. I wouldn't even need to stop by Wardrobe and Make-up. If I installed bullet-proof glass, I could give some pretty pissah fortunes.
"You're next girlfriend will leave you for your step-father. You will raise their lovechild, alone."
"But I don't have a step-father."
"DON'T question Zoltar! Your mother is lying to you. You must leave the fair immediately and confront her! I can see that she will be waiting for you with a loaded firearm. I'd suggest you do the same. Hurry!"
"Next person in line, please."
