The Sale

The Sale

“Step right up, step right up. Hurry, hurry, hurry!” The man in the red velvety suit waved violently trying to command the attention of the confused biomass before him. “Its the Sale of the Century, never before have your eyes witnessed such as display!” The Man in Red's words rose and fell with emphasis as he spoke, gesturing from his platform to a display behind him, hidden from sight by a sheet to match his suit. Almost immediately, the outlandish man and his loud words had the crowd's attention and they gathered in to hear his spiel.

“Today we have a fine assortment of repossessed dreams, new dreams, old dreams, dreams of wealth, dreams of power. Dreams of fame that would make your eyes shine, and dreams of lust that would make your grandmothers blush. And most importantly, dreams of love and dreams of victory. These are the very best dreams, available for your inspection and acquisition today!”

The crowd murmured, talking amongst itself as it absorbed the Man in Red's introduction. A certain buzz of interest played over it, and the man smiled with added self-assurance. The Man in Red gestured again to the display behind him.

“Behind me lies all you ever wanted to dream of but couldn't,” the Man in Red raised his eyebrows. “Any takers?” He stepped back, crossing his arms and surveying his audience.

“Is it legal,” one woman towards the back shouted over the mass.

“Oh yes, perfectly legal,” the Man in Red smiled. “We and our process are newly recognized and sanctioned by the government. Any other questions?”

“How does it work,” a thin, middle-aged man wearing wire rimmed glasses asked.

“Well,” the Man in Red started, half chuckling, “I can't tell you the full ins and outs of the system, but... we have a newly patented process by which we remove the soul from the offending party and then rip the dream out from there. Then, once the vision is removed, we return the soul and send the unfortunate body about its, well, about its way anyway.” The Man in Red chuckled again as he delivered the last statement, and the crowd buzzed once again. He stepped back, and tore the curtain from its place, revealing over ten dozen capsules, looking like prize jelly cans on display at the fair. “What can I show you people?”

“Lets get down to what people really want to hear about and talk about dreams of wealth.” The voice that broke the surface tension of the crowd belonged to a very large man, complete with a stubbly goatee and connected mustache, and very red in the face. He stood in the middle of the throng and yet stood apart, surrounded by no one with his arms crossed.

The Man in Red stepped forward, pointing at the interested party. “Ah, an industrious man, I like that. Got to spend money to make money, eh?” He made a motion as if elbowing his customer and pulled a capsule from the top of the stack. “For you, sir, a prime dream. A vision, as it were, to attain fabulous wealth, and legally too! Its yours now for only ten Stacks.”

The large man seemed to consider this, then nodded, pulling ten rattling, bound Stacks from a bad on his back and lumbered through the parting crowd and dropped them on the stage. The Man in Red's smile broadened, the first sale of the day. Carefully, gingerly he handed the large man the capsule and then an instruction booklet as well. The large man look at both object, then nodded, pleased with his new investment as he broke back through the crowd and left.

“What happens to the donor anyway,” an unidentified voice asked.

“Ha ha, cute word, 'donor'. Well in answer, the hole fills. Fills with depression most generally. And the opposite of whatever we remove. For example,” the Man in Red searched for a second and then extracted another capsule from the display, “we extracted this dream last week from a soldier. Its a dream of courage, of such heroism! Now, the man is depressed in the desert, consumed by cowardice.” The Man in Red looked smug as he spoke, and to his delight the crowd seemed more sadistically amused than disgusted by the horror. A few sad souls broke from the group and walked away, bur plenty of opportunity remained. So many prospects! He looked up; it was time. He grinned another toothy grin, and spoke again.

“Now today, folks, I have something really special for you all: a deluxe dream. A special dream I extracted myself over the weekend. This dream has it all: wealth, power, fame, and love. And much more too! With this dream, i can't see how you could ever want for anything to desire again. Its the completion of the imagination, and it can all be yours. For eight Viles and ten Skulls you will never be lacking again. A bargain, if I do say so myself...”

“I'll take it,” screamed some woman in a terrible hat towards the front.

“No! It's mine,” shouted a man in a plaid suit and blue tie on the fringe.

“Don't listen to them, sell it to me...” said another, and another and another until the whole mass was shouting. Soon, the crowd became a riot, them a mob, with people clawing and punching their way forward, blood and bones in hand to make the payment and claim their prize. The Man in Red simply studied the chaos and adjusted his suit. Stroking his goatee, the grin returned. Yes, business would be good!