Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:
Hold on, let me grab my megaphone: LADIEEESSS AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO MY SHOW, DATERS!
Occupation: Stuffed Animal Claw Machine maintenance man, although some in my close troupe call me the “Prop Man.” Alas, I am an independent contractor, but I hold down full-time hours, and on the side, I also work for cherry pie.
Gender: Male
Age: 55
Hair: purple/black, thick as cotton candy
Attire: the finest, shiniest wardrobe, always, such as: a bright tailcoat (red with gold trim), a waistcoat, a black top hat, and a bow tie.
Here’s my best pitch: natives, towners, orphans, step right up! Settle down into any grocery store side show or movie theatre game room, aka, my front yard. In advance, if you’re one of the lucky few, perhaps I’ll even give you a pass to have your hand at The Claw! Gather ‘round and try and beat me at the game! Try and try again. It’s utterly impossible. No matter your take, I have the X on the machine. No novelties will ever reach your hands. You’ll stay deep in the blues, buried in the nosebleed section. Daters, your search ends at The Claw, my big house.
Interested in: not picky, folks! I like all onlookers, those with or without quarters and also, all passing fans with crumpled ace notes, fins, or sawbucks. Bring a spoiled buck, and the machine will spit it out every time! Daily, for hours, I swallow down some dukeys while watching the crowds attempt to shove a dollar in The Claw dollar feeder again and again and again. Also, watching trapeze, sideshows, Spanish web, handling pickled punk, participating in the iron jaw, and discovering human oddities are all activities that make me hard. Overall, I have a preference for jugglers, bally broads, and bally girls, and I admit…indeed…I have spent some time with the boys in clown alley.
Interests: I am an expert calliope musician. In the past, I’ve also worked as a candy butcher, a lion tamer, and I’ve graced the back lot of numerous concession stands.
Most people jumping around these parts know this undeniable fact: because of my machine maintenance skills, anyone may get on The Claw bandwagon, but all attempts will soon be proved hopeless! That’s right, when JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw is in the ring, no one wins at The Stuffed Animal Claw Machine! Every day, with my secret, hidden grocery store cameras, behind my teaser curtain, in the back yard, which is off limits, where I have my dressing rooms, stock tents, stuffed animal cages and dens, I watch the screaming kids and mommies and daddies throw hundreds of quarters away, all the while listening to a chorus of passersby who remark the following: "Oh my god, I've never seen anyone win on that thing!" At this key point in the show, I laugh, nod, and watch attempt after attempt and failure after failure. Red lights all the way.
I love my life!
Go ahead, kick the machine.
Shake it.
Punch it.
Make a little wish.
Do a little dance.
Do it all again.
No matter what, it won’t work, friends. The Claw is mine.
Now, I will admit this: there is one, angular move…I repeat…one…secret way to win, but only I know the truth, although a certain audience member once came close. One wild cat, a forty-something woman wearing cartoon pajamas, entered the grocery near sunset, and she thought that she was beginning to catch on to my mastermind and yes indeed, she was able to grab one bull elephant’s ear, and she almost…I repeat…almost…dropped the creature in the hole. Every day, right on time, she came and made quite a speck, but I soon grew tired of her flea bag antics and so, I was forced to do this: I refilled the machine and stuffed the animals down in there so tight, even the smallest monkey had to struggle to breathe. After my slick maneuver, even when using distraction tactics, force, sheer talent, and dexterity, Pajama Woman couldn’t win.
Well, would you believe this: Sponge Bob Princess came back!
So, the next time I refilled the machine, I scattered the animals to the sides. I like to call it this: "curbing them," which means that there was no way The Claw could even reach a bear’s ear. I admit that the curbing maneuver was somewhat cruel.
Would you believe this: the Freak Show Woman still returned for more torture! Then, listen close, folks: she hunkered down. She shook the entire machine. She nearly broke the center pole. She even straddled the corner and humped the glass, attempting to make one of the tigers fall into a possible “grabbing location.”
I admit, it almost turned me on, but this is a Sunday school show. Anyway, she was oh…so…close.
So then, I had to pull out The Stuffed Animal Claw Machine emergency protocol. That’s right, I, JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw, resorted to the lowest of the low. I stooped to a horrifying level that no one in The Claw Family has ever dared duplicate! I did this:
That’s right! I hooked the claw on its own cord, so no matter what maneuvers Onesie Woman tried -- shaking the machine, screaming at the joystick, punching the glass, whatever -- the claw couldn't move.
Bow down, Slipper Queen. You will fold every time. Time for your show to close. Shuffle home and find another Claw and dig your eyeballs out. The Claw Machine is mine. Take your unicorn slippers and go home emptyhanded like the rest.
By the way, when I’m done watching my roomful of hidden cameras, if you’re not busy later, we should make a show date under the stars, no tent. I like thunderstorms and long walks in the park. I’ll take you to the cook house. Or, when the flag’s up, maybe we could grab a dog or some floss at a grease joint. No worries, I’ll dig into the garbage and bring you a well-stitched tiger. But catch me while you can. Not sure if I’ll let you spend the night. Sometimes, after hours, I get itchy feet. If we’re in it for the long road, heading for touring and extensive travels, try to keep the baggage wagons to a minimum.
But rest assured, just as the curtains close, when we’re in bed, I’ll whisper that the secret of the entire circus is this: “By the way, for a sure win, you have to lovingly aim The Claw at the upright loner animal, ignore the body, and cover the whole head!”
Time to blowoff,
JohnnyHacksawTwoFingersClaw
-- C.A. MacConnell
