observer would instantly note and approve his gray, well-spaced eyes, tall build, and curly dark hair. Men enjoyed his wit and air of easy good humor. Even children, as if speaking to some answering child in him, gave him their confidence immediately. Customers flirted outrageously with Jeff, but Uncle Willie cautioned, "Stay away from the townies, my boy. Their fathers are always the sheriff."
It was the knife thrower's wife who caused Jeff to leave the carnival. The show had just arrived in Milledgeville, Georgia, and the tents were being set up. A new act had signed on, a Sicilian knife thrower called the Great Zorbini and his attractive blond wife. While the Great Zorbini was at the carnival setting up his equipment, his wife invited Jeff to their hotel room in town.
"Zorbini will be busy all day," she told Jeff. "Let's have some fun."
It sounded good.
"Give me an hour and then come up to the room," she said.
"Why wait an hour?" Jeff asked.
She smiled and said, "It will take me that long to get everything ready."
Jeff waited, his curiosity increasing, and when he finally arrived at the hotel room, she greeted him at the door, stark naked. He reached for her, but she took his hand and said, "Come in here."
He walked into the bathroom and stared in disbelief. She had filled the bathtub with six flavors of Jell-O, mixed with warm water.
"What's that?" Jeff asked.
"It's dessert. Get undressed, baby."
Jeff undressed.
"Now, into the tub."
He stepped into the tub and sat down, and it was the wildest sensation he had ever experienced. The soft, slippery Jell-O seemed to fill every crevice of his body, massaging him all over. The blonde joined him in the tub.
"Now," she said, "lunch."
She started down his chest toward his groin, licking the Jell-O as she went. "Mmmm, you taste delicious. I like the strawberry best...."
Between her rapidly flicking tongue and the friction of the warm, viscous Jell-O, it was an erotic experience beyond description. In the middle of it, the bathroom door flew open and the Great Zorbini strode in. The Sicilian took one look at his wife and the startled Jeff, and howled, "Tu sei una puttana! Vi ammazzo tutti e due! Dove sono i miei coltelli?"
Jeff did not recognize any of the words, but the tone was familiar. As the Great Zorbini raced out of the room to get his knives, Jeff leaped out of the tub, his body looking like a rainbow with the multicolored Jell-O clinging to it, and grabbed his clothes. He jumped out of the window, naked, and began running down the alley. He heard a shout behind him and felt a knife sing past his head. Zing! Another, and then he was out of range. He dressed in a culvert, pulling his shirt and pants over the sticky Jell-O, and squished his way to the depot, where he caught the first bus out of town.
Six months later, he was in Vietnam.
Every soldier fights a different war, and Jeff came out of his Vietnam experience with a deep contempt for bureaucracy and a lasting resentment of authority. He spent two years in a war that could never be won, and he was appalled by the waste of money and mat泄riel and lives, and sickened by the treachery and deceit of the generals and politicians who performed their verbal sleight of hand. We've been suckered into a war that nobody wants, Jeff thought. It's a con game. The biggest con game in the world.
A week before Jeff's discharge, he received the news of Uncle Willie's death. The carnival had folded. The past was finished. It was time for him to enjoy the future.
The years that followed were filled with a series of adventures. To Jeff, the whole world was a carnival, and the people in it were his marks. He devised his own con games. He placed ads in newspapers offering a color picture of the President for a dollar. When he received a dollar, he sent his victim a postage stamp with a picture of the President on it.
He put announcements in magazines warning the public that there were only sixty days left to send in five dollars, that after that it would be too late. The ad did not specify what the five dollars would buy, but the money poured in.
For three months Jeff worked in a boiler room, selling phony oil stocks over the telephone.
He loved boats, and when a friend offered him a job working on a