The entrance to the Funhouse was the mouth of a clown. A whale of a time.

Strange mirrors flanking yellowed teeth and demonic, starved, tongue. Th-

e glistening starry uvula waving. Beckoning.

The music is bizarre. A time port. The old beach side mind show invented

by Sir Hampton. Old wood. Faded and transported through a pinwheel brid-

ge chasm of collapsing dimension. Starry eyed passersby chin floating t-

hrough cosmic mania.

The sound of high pitched ringing and metallic chattering of mechanical

fate entrainers. The dust of circumstance spirals of blue plume in the

darkness. Strobing images and bent mirror worlds. Clown reality streak-

ed across void. Laughter manic and serene in bizarro cathedral.

Echoes of beach voyages. Water too cold and green for swimming. Bathing

beauties apart from gray sky cloistered in wood stall black fabric walls

mazelike winding through the hall of mirrors. Faces elastic settling in-

to images of top hatted clown men with bloody teeth and dollar sign eye-

s.