"Will you throw the ball?" asked the vendor at the stall.

Mr. Cormerick with his cane read the sign at the vendor's side, with its glittery glitter and silvery silver:

[quote]Land the ball in the hole, win your dream!
Only one throw per customer.[/quote]

Mr. Cormerick asked, "What does it mean by 'win your dream'?"

"Why only what it means!" the vendor declared with a grin.

Mr. Cormerick scoffed and walked away, seeking vendors with more realistic booths.

[hr]

"Will you throw the ball?" asked the vendor at the stall.

Hard working Ross read the sign and laughed. "And if I win, you'll give me my dream?"

"Absolutely, indubitably, yes!"

"Well," declared Ross, "I could always use a new tractor. Let me give it a go."

So Ross took the little red ball in his big bear hand, pulled his arm back, and threw with all his impressive strength. Alas, his throw was too high, and the little ball sailed into the big net around the tiny hole.

"Oh, too bad, sonny. Better luck next year."

Ross stared at the little ball with eyes like fire. "Now hold on, that ball's too light! Let me have another throw."

"Sorry, sir." The vendor tapped the sign beside him. "Only one shot at this dream."

"But that's not fair!"

"Life's not fair."

And though Ross breathed with all the fury of a steam engine, he walked off. "It's all a scam, anyway," he muttered. "That vendor wasn't going to give me a new tractor."

[hr]

"Will you throw the ball?" asked the vendor at the stall.

Miss Carol's eyes went wide upon seeing the sign. "Does this mean dear Mr. Lodgings will love me?"

The vendor raised an eyebrow. "Not my business to know, ma'am. All I can say is you'll win your dream."

Giggling as only those in love can, Miss Carol took the little ball in her little hand and threw with all the skill she had, which wasn't much to say the least. So it was to her surprise that the little ball flew through the hole. She clapped her hands and gave the unsuspecting vendor a hug that might have broken bones were it not from such a tiny woman, and then she went running through the crowds of the fair.

The vendor stared after her, at a loss for what to say. Then he smiled and sat in his old wicker chair. "One satisfied customer, I suppose. Dreams are grand things, are they not?"

[hr]

"Will you throw the ball?" asked the vendor at the stall.

Schoolboy Zack squinted at the vendor, then at the sign. Now, Zack was smarter than your average schoolboy, and he found this sign to be odd, so he asked, "You can really make my dreams come true?"

"I suppose that depends," the Vendor replied.

"On what?"

"On what your dream is."

Zack set hands to hips and struck the most dashing pose he knew, chest thrust out and head held high. "I want to be a sergeant in the army like my pop!" Then he leveled a frown at the Vendor. "But I'm only twelve. Can you make the army accept me at twelve?"

The vendor shrugged. "Nope. I'm just a vendor at the fair, kid."

Now Zack crossed his arms and glared. "So you're lying about me winning my dream?"

"Not at all." The vendor offered the little red ball. "Try it and see."

Zack peered at the ball, but took it at last. He hesitated for a few seconds, face set in a pout, but at last gave the ball a throw. And what a nice throw it was, sailing through the air in a pretty red blur. Even so, it bounced against the edge of the hole and dropped back to the grass.

"Aw, too bad, kid," the vendor said. "Maybe next year."

Zack stuffed his hands in his pockets, but stopped himself from turning around. "Hey, mister? What if it went in?"

The vendor smiled at Zack as he picked the ball up. "Tell me, what did you want the most when you threw that ball?"

"To be a sergeant..." Zack blinked. "No. To get the ball in the hole."

The vendor sat back in his chair, set the ball down and gave Zack a pat on the head. "There you go."

Zack thought long and hard on this. "And I can try again next year?"

"Sure."

And Zack smiled.

"I think I will."