Child Labor
The poles were going up now; ropes lashed around them pulled them upright and tethered them there to support the garishly- colored sheets of canvas that would soon be hoisted. The sky was gray, meek, and cloudy, and though the airship hovering overhead was pitch-black and very distinctive, the blandness of the skyscape practically swept it under the ocular rug.
"Lee-Lee?"
"Yes Mommy?"
The wizened hag hobbled her way around the steel cage between her and her object of conversation. "Lee-Lee!!"
"YES, MOMMY? I'm right here!"
The hag rubbed her gnarled, liver-spotted hands together irritably. "Don't snap at me, child ... You're in no position."
"You're right, as usual."
"Mmm, yes, I am. Quit dawdling and tell Fu to feed the animals." As the young girl nonchalantly walked off, the old hag again rubbed her knobby fingers over each other. (Mmm... yes... I think this one will do...)
"Ming! Ling!"
"Yes Mommy?" "Yes Mommy?"
"Are you prepared for opening night?"
Both girls giggled at this query, clearly amused. "We're always the first ones ready."
"But, we're short an emcee still."
This seemed to give the hag some pause. She opened her mouth to speak, but waved them off, trudging off mid-sentence.
More of the steel cages were being rolled in now; soon, this entire lot would be set up and ready for the show. Satisfied, from her low vantage point (for Mommy Fortuna was not only very short but also very hunched over) she attempted to survey the adjacent zone - the fairway.
"Hrmph. Got to tell that stupid child to make cuter dolls. NORMAL Children don't want these creepy things..." One brittle finger poked experimentally at the morbid doll hanging from the prize booth wall. "Mmm, no, this simply won't do. Where am I to find an Emcee before opening night...? Useless children."