The woman smiled, " We make money as you exit the park! I'm sure you will realize our business plan by the time you exit the park!"
I picked up a park map and walked along with other fools. I looked back at the woman as she spotted my view and waved me a good-bye.
Pavillions, Exibits, and Fantasy sideshows! Very few rides except in funhouse or historical situations. I still wondered how this place made money.
"The Bull Shit Fantasy Forum and Bar' I thought with a name like that I might meet a person who understands how this place stayed afloat."
I opened a wooden farm fence gate into a wild west saloon. Smoke and old tables with round chairs littered the scene. I plopped down at a table near the men room door. Just in case I got sick of this place, it was close to go puke in.
The bar room smelled of cow shit and old cigars. Where I come from we call this filth, but in Chicago it's considered special fare.
A pretty waitress walked over and set down a mug of something dark. "Is there anything else sir, she said in a cool and sexy voice."
I thought as I looked around, "Yea, when can I get into the Bull Shit Forum?"
She smiled, "Ready are we, adventured are we, come and meet a fantasy!"
I got up and she walked me arm in arm down a dark plank walled hall. As she opened a door I stepped into a straw covered floor box stall.
The door closed behind me and I saw no door handle on my side. "Trapped like a rat, I said aloud!"
"Trapped maybe!"
"Rat never, never!"
I looked around for the voice and who owned it.
"To start your fantasy in our forum it is required that you remove all clothing."
I looked at the ceiling and turned on my heels. "All clothing, everything!"
"Yes sir, down to what you were born with, really it's all in good fun. If you feel they would be nessary later I will give them back unharmed."
Being stupid and a good sport I did as required.
A creeking door opened and closed suddenly. In the far corner of the room was a foot long wooden box.
Walking carefully over as not to step in gushy stuff in the stall, I open it's lid.
Five jars marked in felttip pen. 'Angus, Gernsey, Hereford, Shorthorn, Longhorn'
As I picked up each one they had a different color and when opened a stout smell.