A spastic parasite flames and worms its way up the factory chimney. Tourists pay twenty-five cents to stand around the wire gate and hurl insults as the parasite wretches and vomits lunar pebbles. A flaxen haired child reaches through the barrier and grasps a stone. His moist and swollen arm launches the sickening stone forward. A nauseating convulsion and the parasite is gone.
"Show is over," cries the announcer over the speakers. "No refunds."