(Clam up, Kid! You're making it too obvious that you and I worked out this routine before the show! What part of being "planted" in the audience escapes you? Now quit making eye contact with me and focus on that lady from Iowa in the third row. I'll bet she's as loaded with loot as she is gullible. Shoo, shoo now! Go!)
Where was I, folks? Oh, yes, I was explaining how this wonderous elixir of mine can cure all your ills, any ills you have, any at all! Why, when I discovered its secret formula in the valleys of the Alps over 20 years ago, I was skeptical at first, until I tried it, that is. An aged medicine woman had the potion's ingredients tattooed to her upper palate, she shared it with me on the promise that I'd help others. Passed down from one ancient generation to the next, the healing powers it exudes will amaze each and every one of you! Now who among your neighbors will obtain some of it before you do? You won't let that happen, will you? Step right up, step right up, be the first one on your street to . . . you there, young lady with the pallor of sun-bathed tanning! Yes, you; let her through, ladies and gentlemen, let her through! That's right, thank you all. Now young lady, you don't know me, and I don't know you, right? Perfect, my good people, I will demonstrate the elixir's magic with the aid of this timid creature you see before you, cast your own eyes on its functions and be as transfixed as I was ten years ago in the desert tents of the nomadic emir who on his deathbed whispered the unwritten recipe to me . . .