Momentarily, a bullet-shaped roller coaster car with a leering demon mask of 
a front-end comes roaring out of one of the two black sculptured datalines at 
the rear of the tent, screaming to a halt in front of the sizzling cage. Kidd 
Karney likes dramatic entrances. Tonight, he’s in his sheik get-up, wearing a
hat like a golden pillow with tassels, a flowing robe, all kinds of sparkling 
jewelry and funny shoes with curling toes. With him in the rear of the roller 
coaster car is a bevy of absurdly voluptuous bimbos garbed in bellydancer 
outfits and fawning over him like slaves.