The kids sat at their
lemonade stand as a blistering sun glared down on the suburban neighborhood.
Further down the sidewalk, a woman dressed in bizarre fabrics was manipulating
mysterious charts on a rickety table. On the other side of the street was a
group of salesmen in black suits, carrying briefcases, marching in
lockstep.
The men in black suits
approached the lemonade stand. Whats going on here? the head
salesman asked the two little children.
Were selling
lemonade mister, only 25 cents! said the little boy. Would you like
some? The little girl offered him a Styrofoam cup filled with water and
powdered lemonade mix.
Do you know that our
organization can deliver high volumes of lemonade with low overhead? We offer
much more convenience to the customer, and our developing system of drones
guarantees fast delivery, said the head salesman. The two children looked
up at the small black buzzing electronic aircraft filling the sky.
Mommy!
screamed the little girl. The childrens mother ran out from the house
near the lemonade stand.
Look kids,
heres a synopsis of our business plan, guaranteed to put your little
operation out of business, said the head salesman, pushing a brochure
toward the two moppets.
Whats going on
here? demanded the childrens mother.
We are here to
interest you in a lemonade investment! the salesmen announced, closing in
as their ties pulsated on starched white shirts. They angled lemonade sales
prospectuses tantalizingly toward the kids mom.
Get those away from
me! she replied, meeting the pamphlets in their sweaty hands with an icy
stare. The children quickly moved out from behind the lemonade stand and kicked
the head salesman in the shins, cutting his ankles, the blood seeping through
and soaking his black designer socks.
Deciding that the current
sales opportunity was not optimal, the salesmen moved down the sidewalk to the
strangely dressed woman, stopping abruptly in front of her little table.
Who are you, and what are you selling? the head salesman
demanded.
I am a practitioner
of the mystical arts, and I have come to examine the spirituality of the
street, she said, laying out cards adorned with esoteric symbols.
Im selling hope, and ideas for a new world.
What does that have
to do with lemonade? bellowed the head salesman.
Everything,
she said.
The salesmen looked
at their spreadsheets and calculated the economic advantages of making an
investment in hope and ideas for a new world. We dont see an upside
to this transaction, concluded the head salesman dismissively.
Furthermore, we view you as a competitor with a potentially negative
impact on our neighborhood market share. A couple of the other salesmen
kicked out the legs of her table, the tarot cards fluttering to the
pavement.
As the salesmen walked
away, one of them, an unassuming fellow named Morris, stayed behind to pick up
the tarot cards. Let me help you with those, he said.
I see you have a
kind heart, and are a gentle soul, said the woman, adding, I was a
high-powered sales executive until my brain chemistry took a detour, and I was
able to see things I hadnt before, a third eye if you will. Now I follow
a ray of sunshine through the corridors of the universe, leading to a new idea
of peace. I want to bring this vision to the people of the
world.
Morris looked at her and
decided that he wanted to contribute something positive to the spirituality of
the street. He bought some lemonade from the children, and helped the woman
reorganize her table of mystery. He didnt know what else to do, so he
picked up a piece of litter, threw it in the garbage, and went home.