The Black Market.
The Manager of the Circus stopped by my shop to tell me that I can no longer sell chocolate chip cookies because a particular vendor, who shall remain nameless, but who may or may not have a vested interest in my sales of chocolate chip cookies, complained. And according to our leases, we are only allowed to sell stuff that is acknowledged in our particular leases. Chocolate chip cookies are a more recent addition to our menu.
But a chocolate chip cookie? Are you serious?
The guy who sells cookies, literally on the other side of the Circus, had a hissyfit about the fact that I sell chocolate chip cookies.
I could understand if someone had some signature item and another vendor started copying that, say white chocolate peanut butter oatmeal cookies with banana chunks and candied fruit, so some such. But a chocolate chip cookie? His chocolate chip cookies are soft and pale; mine are crispy and golden. Two different animals! Besides, chocolate chip cookies practically pave the streets of America! How I can sell brownies and cupcakes and other goodies quintessentially homespun and U.S.A.! but not chocolate chip cookies? Outrageous!
Fuck that shit, I said. (Excuse my French.) Put those chocolate chip cookies in the back, and when people ask if we have them, we will say we do. And we will sell them. On the sly. Much like this little ditty here.
And then I became that annoying cookie guy when I found out at the produce guy was selling Girl Scout Cookies. Tit for that. And the ugly cycle continues.