Dreams from a popcorn seller

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Chapter two: the man with the blue beard.

I watched the acrobat in her silvery suit, swinging her legs gracefully and professionally as she jumped and twirled around.

I was watching a performance by the Mexican acrobat in our circus. Her name was Melissa and she was probably the most beautiful woman anyone could ever see. She had olive green eyes and silky brown hair. Her legs were strong and graceful as she swung herself over the ropes, and making the audience gasp.

A man with a long blue beard tapped me on the shoulder. Yes, blue beard.

He was bald on the top of his head and his beard was blue. It was so long that it reached his waist. He wore violent purple robes and round glasses. His shoes looked worn, as if he had worn them for centuries.

“Um—popcorn, sir?” I asked, waving a bag in his face. He shook his head and pointed at my hat that looked like a bag of popcorn.

“You… want my hat?” I said, confused. The strange man nodded. I pulled the hat off my head and gave it to him. He put it on his bald head and gestured to my tray. I gave that to him too.

He took a sign out of his coat, which looked too big to be hidden inside and put it on his neck.

Come and get your popcorn here! All flavors from Caramel to Pear, crispy and light and melt-in-the-mouth kind of texture! Only 75 cents per bag!

Immediately people began to come and pay for popcorn. I stared at the man. Who was he? Why was he doing this? It was all so strange.

After the last bag of cheesy popcorn was gone, the strange man gave me the hat and the tray. Then he walked away just as quickly as he came.

Mr. Gone came and looked at my empty tray. His face shone with glee. “By my wrist’s watch! Did you sell all that popcorn?” (Mr. Gone makes up very strange exclamations. The strangest one was “old grandpa Peterson!”)

“Well, it was all sold.” I said. It was the truth, because I didn’t do the selling—Mr. Blue Beard did.

Day after day the man came and sold my popcorn for me. He didn’t talk to anyone, including me. I started to think that he was mute.

Mr. Gone wasn’t getting as angry with me as usual. In fact, he was positively gleeful. He even gave me a raise. Now its twenty dollars a month. Hey, a raise is a raise.

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