"Gooliope Jellington's Freak Du Chic diary"@en . "'Family Night' at Freak du Chic is always a little bittersweet for me. On the one claw its a joy to sometimes see three or four generations of a family all sitting together and enjoying the show, but on the other, I know that it is something I will probably never experience. Of course, I never say anything to any of the other performers because I know it would hurt their feelings. In fact, just tonight I heard Jitterwing say to one of the customers, \"Oh, that's Gooliope. She's the Ringmaster's daughter, but every monster on the midway claims her as their own.\" When I heard that it made me feel I was being ungrateful for the unlife I have, but when the show closed and everything was quiet and still, I came back to my tent and opened my trunk. There, inside the glass jar that was my first 'crib' is a well-worn note. I always expect it to say something different, to mysteriously change and tell me something it didn't before, but it never does. On one side is typed: And on the other is: One day, maybe I will find R.S., or maybe R.S. will come and find me. Until then the note goes back in the jar, the jar goes back in the trunk, and I will try and to go to sleep, for tomorrow everything must be broken down and packed to move. Then its on the the next location with my family."@en . "'Family Night' at Freak du Chic is always a little bittersweet for me. On the one claw its a joy to sometimes see three or four generations of a family all sitting together and enjoying the show, but on the other, I know that it is something I will probably never experience. Of course, I never say anything to any of the other performers because I know it would hurt their feelings. In fact, just tonight I heard Jitterwing say to one of the customers, \"Oh, that's Gooliope. She's the Ringmaster's daughter, but every monster on the midway claims her as their own.\" When I heard that it made me feel I was being ungrateful for the unlife I have, but when the show closed and everything was quiet and still, I came back to my tent and opened my trunk. There, inside the glass jar that was my first 'c"@en . . . . . . .