rhex carney | eleven, cb fin

It never really dawned on me that the carnival was a front until way later than it should have. I was already working for Pops and even still I used to walk around the broken pavement and wonder how the hell my parents managed to keep the doors open with so little business. Ever since the rose plague, its more likely that people actively avoid Happyland altogether than it is they'll seek it out. In the early days of the outbreak, I guess a lot of people got sick from showing up. There was a big pull to close it down until things started picking back up, even from Mom, but it's still standing to this day and tickets are only a buck a piece if you know someone who might be interested.

I worried for a while that Mom would finally convince Pops to sell it- no one had the money, or the time, and now, no one has the want. Pretty much the only people who come now are people who are looking for my parents' real business. Even if its just a cover-up for their drug empire, it's still really cool to be able to say my parents own a carnival. Practically unlimited entertainment, you know? Free of charge so long as I meet my quotas. And thanks to the stuff Dad makes being top-tier quality, I always meet my quotas.

By the way, what is a quota? I thought it was like when you explain what someone said, but ever since I started selling, Dad's always telling me to make sure I meet mine. It isn't a person, so now I think it's just one of those phrases people use that doesn't mean anything, you know? Like how old ladies say they're colder than a witch's tit. A witch's what, bro? Just say you're chilly and move on!