Madball by Fredric Brown Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Fredric Brown
explained inside, everything about it, the naked truth. And Sammy knew what naked meant, it meant without any clothes on at all, not even a bra or a G-string. Why, if he went in that show he could learn everything, and why couldn't he go in tonight, why couldn't he? He still had three dimes left out of his fifty cents and the unborn show - what did unborn mean? Well, he'd find that out too - cost only one dime so he could have two more cotton candies and still go to the show.
His second cotton candy was finished now, though, so he went back to the booth and waited until the Cotton Candy Lady wasn't busy and then bought his third one from her. She smiled at him and made it a bigger one than usual. She said, "Sammy, if everybody loved cotton candy like you do, I'd be rich." And she pushed back his dime. "This one's on the house, Sammy, if you go get me a san'wich. I'm starvin'."
She gave him a quarter. "Hamburger. Tell him don't skimp the mustard."
When Sammy came back with it for her his cotton candy was gone again and he wanted to buy another. But she laughed and gave him that one for free too. So he still had three dimes.
He'd been wanting to use one of them for something and for a while he couldn't remember what and just wandered down the midway. Then he heard Mr. King talking in front of the unborn show and he remembered.
"... see everything, boys, I mean everything, the sex mystery exposed, red hot, sex in the raw, everything explained, plain down to earth unadorned, right before your very eyes, now it can be told, what papa did to mama, one dime only one dime, come and see for yourselves, the mystery of sex, only a dime, continuous ..." Sammy dropped the paper cone that had held his fourth cotton candy, stepped up to the ticket box and put a dime on the counter. Mr. King reached for the dime, then looked at Sammy. He pushed the dime back.
He said, "Hell, kid, you're with it. You don't got to pay. Just walk on in."
Sammy said, "Thanks, Mr. King," and started around the ticket box. But then Mr. King said, "Wait a minute," and he stopped.
Mr. King said, "Listen, Sammy - your name's Sammy, ain't it?"
Sammy nodded.
"Well, Sammy, I just thought. You don't want to go in there now. Burt's got some marks in there and you might queer his pitch on the books, see?"
Sammy didn't see, but he knew it meant he couldn't go in now. He said, "But sometime can I go in, Mr. King?"
"Sure, Sammy. Tell you when. Come around early afternoon some time just when we're opening and there ain't any biz yet. Then go in and stay as long as you want. Or hell, come before we're open if you just want to look around. Just so you don't touch nothing. But kid, there's nothing in there you'd want to see. Just pickled punks."
"What are pickled punks, Mr. King?"
"Fetuses. Babies that never got born. Dead and pickled in jars and what you want to see them for anyway?"
"I don't want to look at no babies, Mr. King. But I want to see what you said, I mean about what sex is and naked and things like that."
Mr. King shook his head slowly and sadly. "Believe you me, Sammy, if you're starting that far behind scratch you won't learn a damn thing in there; it'd just confuse the hell out of you. Listen, you really mean you don't know anything about sex?"
"No, Mr. King."
"I'll be damned. But take my word for it, Sammy, this isn't where to find out. And for that matter I ain't the guy to tell you, because you ought to be showed and not told. Get a dame to show you sometime."
"Show me what, Mr. King?"
"The most wonderful thing on earth, Sammy. And you sure look old enough to be showed."
"Would any woman show me? Do you think Miss Trixie would?"
Mr. King chuckled. "I don't know about any woman, kid, you'd better be careful who you ask. But I guess Trixie would, for enough money. But that's the catch, kid, that dame's money hungry. You can get it better and-" He looked at Sammy again. "Well, maybe not for free but cheaper'n Trixie'd take you for."
Then a
His second cotton candy was finished now, though, so he went back to the booth and waited until the Cotton Candy Lady wasn't busy and then bought his third one from her. She smiled at him and made it a bigger one than usual. She said, "Sammy, if everybody loved cotton candy like you do, I'd be rich." And she pushed back his dime. "This one's on the house, Sammy, if you go get me a san'wich. I'm starvin'."
She gave him a quarter. "Hamburger. Tell him don't skimp the mustard."
When Sammy came back with it for her his cotton candy was gone again and he wanted to buy another. But she laughed and gave him that one for free too. So he still had three dimes.
He'd been wanting to use one of them for something and for a while he couldn't remember what and just wandered down the midway. Then he heard Mr. King talking in front of the unborn show and he remembered.
"... see everything, boys, I mean everything, the sex mystery exposed, red hot, sex in the raw, everything explained, plain down to earth unadorned, right before your very eyes, now it can be told, what papa did to mama, one dime only one dime, come and see for yourselves, the mystery of sex, only a dime, continuous ..." Sammy dropped the paper cone that had held his fourth cotton candy, stepped up to the ticket box and put a dime on the counter. Mr. King reached for the dime, then looked at Sammy. He pushed the dime back.
He said, "Hell, kid, you're with it. You don't got to pay. Just walk on in."
Sammy said, "Thanks, Mr. King," and started around the ticket box. But then Mr. King said, "Wait a minute," and he stopped.
Mr. King said, "Listen, Sammy - your name's Sammy, ain't it?"
Sammy nodded.
"Well, Sammy, I just thought. You don't want to go in there now. Burt's got some marks in there and you might queer his pitch on the books, see?"
Sammy didn't see, but he knew it meant he couldn't go in now. He said, "But sometime can I go in, Mr. King?"
"Sure, Sammy. Tell you when. Come around early afternoon some time just when we're opening and there ain't any biz yet. Then go in and stay as long as you want. Or hell, come before we're open if you just want to look around. Just so you don't touch nothing. But kid, there's nothing in there you'd want to see. Just pickled punks."
"What are pickled punks, Mr. King?"
"Fetuses. Babies that never got born. Dead and pickled in jars and what you want to see them for anyway?"
"I don't want to look at no babies, Mr. King. But I want to see what you said, I mean about what sex is and naked and things like that."
Mr. King shook his head slowly and sadly. "Believe you me, Sammy, if you're starting that far behind scratch you won't learn a damn thing in there; it'd just confuse the hell out of you. Listen, you really mean you don't know anything about sex?"
"No, Mr. King."
"I'll be damned. But take my word for it, Sammy, this isn't where to find out. And for that matter I ain't the guy to tell you, because you ought to be showed and not told. Get a dame to show you sometime."
"Show me what, Mr. King?"
"The most wonderful thing on earth, Sammy. And you sure look old enough to be showed."
"Would any woman show me? Do you think Miss Trixie would?"
Mr. King chuckled. "I don't know about any woman, kid, you'd better be careful who you ask. But I guess Trixie would, for enough money. But that's the catch, kid, that dame's money hungry. You can get it better and-" He looked at Sammy again. "Well, maybe not for free but cheaper'n Trixie'd take you for."
Then a