Ezekiel stared as the car roared by. A jaguar. Was this some kind of cruel joke? Perhaps the driver would like some leopard accessories to go with his jaguar. Or maybe, Ezekiel could order some jaguar skin. This man surely wants a steering wheel cover or a pair of fuzzy dice to hang from his rearview mirror as he drives around Watershed Heights taunting those who don't have Jaguars (the cars or the cats). By the time Exekiel had finished his train of thought, the car was no where to be seen. In its place was a large fire near the carnival. The fire smelled like burning hair and plastic. Ezekiel hoped that the clown who had not allowed him to enter the carnival somehow got caught in the fire. Everyone knows the two most important parts of being a clown are the hair and the plastic shoes.

It was a nice day in Watershed Heights, which was quite a rare occurrence. A carnival had just pulled into town, bringing with it strange people, a faint smell of mildew, and stale popcorn. Ezekiel had not had an popcorn in quite some time, and he was curious if it was still as salty as he remembered. As Ezekiel headed to the carnival, he saw the town mutt. Lucky was surprisingly well fed considering that he had no real owner. He wasn't a fat dog, but he wasn't about to starve. Ezekiel often wondered if he could make Lucky into an article of clothing - perhaps a hat or a purse. Although he had never worked with dogs, they couldn't be too different from leopards. But Ezekiel was quick to cast this thought out of his mind, as he no longer got his income that way. He arrived at the carnival, but could not walk under the rusty sign, because just then, a clown whose makeup was clearly happier than the man underneath told him that this was not in fact an entrance but an exit.