Sideshow
by William Ollie

   Pvt. Stanley Brooks stood in the clearing, looking up at the full moon. He took a long drink off a nearly empty pint bottle of Jack Daniels, and then walked underneath the brightly colored sign welcoming him to the Carnival. Last night, Lou Spinelli had come into the barracks raving about this place: the gambling, the Sideshow freaks and raunchy strippers. Now he wanted to see it for himself. He stopped at a table and watched some old farmer in faded jeans place money down-five dollars to watch three silver balls spin around on a wooden table. As a crowd of men cheered him on, the old guy slapped his palm against his forehead in utter disbelief, as one by one, each little silver ball betrayed him.

   What a dumbass, Stanley thought, as the man in the booth, wearing a sports jacket with enormously wide, red and white stripes, tipped his straw hat and crowed, "Step right up, ladies and gentlemen!"

   Stanley drifted over to the Sideshow tent. He paid a midget two bucks and stepped inside to see a tall, thin old man crowing, happily calling out the names of the freaks.

   He thought the juggler was cool, and he had to admit, that sword swallower really knew his shit. And boy, would he like to pork that rubber woman. Let me count the ways, he thought, and chuckled at the images that conjured up. The pickled punk looked fake, and that’s what he told that old barking fool. The old guy didn’t like that, but hey, fuck him. And, well, you’ve seen one huge fat-assed freak; you’ve seen ‘em all.

   He barely glanced at the alligator boy, but when he got to that goddamn armless and legless freak, he had to stop. He removed his thick, Coke-bottle-glasses, wiped them clean on his shirt and put them back on his face. The poor bastard was moaning and groaning and coughing up blood, looking up at Stanley, pleading with his eyes. He had a filthy diaper looped around his waist, and looked like he could keel over dead at any minute.

   On his way out, Stanley gave that old bastard a piece of his mind, cussing him up-one- side and down-the-other.

   He finished off the whiskey on his way to see the strippers, wishing that damn rubber woman could be a part of this show. He stepped inside the tent, amid the backdrop of calypso music. A group of old men and farm boys stood watching a woman gyrate. Several longhaired kids had crowded around the stage. They stared up at her, shoving dollar bills into a bucket.

   The young woman, wearing nothing but a G-string and spiked, high-heeled shoes, had long blonde hair, cascading over her enormous breasts, which she had cupped into her small delicate hands, pressing them together, making them look like giant, skin-toned beach balls with huge, thumb-sized nipples. She smiled down at her audience, showing an amazingly crooked mouthful of buckteeth.

   Stanley staggered past the old geezers and farm boys. "Fucking hippies," he muttered, elbowing his way through the kids, who eyed him curiously as he staggered up to the stage. He stood in front of the stripper, catcalling, grabbing his crotch and shouting obscenity-laden taunts at her. He reached out, swiping at the G-string. "Take it off, baby!" he shouted, staring up at her, wide eyes magnified behind the enormously thick Coke-bottle lenses. "Show me somethin’, ya buck-toothed bitch!"

   At the back of the tent, the Sideshow Barker walked through the entrance. He shrugged his shoulders, raised his long arms high in the air and nodded at the young striptease artist.

   The stripper danced to the edge of the stage, gyrating furiously, snapping the waistband of her G-string. "I’ll show ya somethin’, baby!" she taunted, buckteeth fixed in a comical grin. "I’ll show all of you somethin’!" She danced to the rear of the stage and came back holding a small glass container in her hand. She removed the lid and tossed it over her shoulder. "Step right up!" she called out, and then tore the G-string from her waist, giving Stanley an up close and personal view of her very clean-shaven pussy.

   She bent her knees, swaying her hips and, to Stanley’s delight, humping and pumping right in his face. Suddenly, she stood up. Slowly rocking back and forth, she took a powder puff from the container and held it up so everyone could see it. "Watch close, ya’ll!" she cackled. "Ya don’t wanna miss this! I’m gonna show this here boy how to powder a pussy!"

   Stanley looked up, grinning, smiling appreciatively, bloodshot eyes filling up his ridiculously thick lenses.

   Geezers and farm boys cackled with delight; longhaired teenagers, catcalling, as the calypso beat filled the air around them.

   At the rear of the tent, the old Sideshow Barker grinned wickedly. He did a back flip, spun completely around and pointed a hideously long finger toward the stage.

   The stripper smiled down at Stanley Brooks. Pursing her lips in a sexy mock kiss, she dipped the puff in the container and touched it lightly to her pussy. "Ya’ll ready?" she called out to the crowd. "You ready, baby?" She grinned down at Stanley.

   "Give it to me!" he shouted. "Give it to me, you buck-toothed bitch!"

   She touched herself with the powder puff, and with Stanley looking wildly up at her, the stripper upended the container, dumping all of its powdery contents onto the young soldier’s face. "That’s how, boys!" she cried out with glee. "That’s how ya powder a fuckin’ pussy!"

   "You fuckin’ bitch!" Stanley growled and tried to climb onto the stage, but the teenagers grabbed him. He struggled for a minute, then staggered away and ran for the exit, past the geezers and the Sideshow Barker, who laughed uncontrollably and then followed him into the night.

   Stanley felt dizzy as he stumbled beneath the starry night sky. His knees felt weak and his face felt… numb. "What did you do to me?" he whimpered. "You buck-toothed…" He lurched, staggering around aimlessly, the ground swirling beneath his feet, sky spinning above his head. He heard footsteps behind him and wild, cackling laughter. He turned to face the noise, fell to his knees and passed out.

* * *

   Stanley opened his eyes and saw daylight. Now he was in it. Sergeant Copher was really gonna have his ass now. What the fuck did she do to me? He glanced up at the sky, then looked around and saw where he was at. Oh my God!

   Pvt. Stanley Brooks screamed as long and as loud as he could.

#####

   Justin Henry sat in the back seat, thinking about cotton candy and corn dogs, Merry-Go-Rounds and Dodge Cars, hardly able to believe his good fortune. Somebody had called Tommy Mack’s daddy and told him a Carnival had set up shop at the edge of town. And, as luck would have it, Justin just happened to be spending Saturday night at Tommy’s house. The three of them piled into Jimmy Mack’s old Dodge and headed off down the road, past the Fire Station and the Post Office, the Jiffy Mart and gas station.

   They turned onto an old dirt road, red dust flying, the old Dodge making its way past overhanging tree limbs blocking out the afternoon sun. As Justin saw a Ferris Wheel turning in the distance, he remembered the games and the rides, and the really neat Sideshow from last year. He had won a little Teddy Bear by tossing a steel ring on a wooden peg. He was sure he was going to win something this year, too. It was still early when they pulled into the dirt lot, and there weren’t many vehicles around. Tommy’s dad parked between a Cadillac and an old pickup truck.

   Justin and Tommy looked out at the tents and booths that made up the Carnival. They walked toward the tents, following Jimmy Mack, marveling at the garishly painted sign hanging above the entrance:

Hannibal Cobb’s Kansas City Carnival!

   In the middle of the clearing, a few men had gathered around a small canvas covered booth. A small wooden sign that read: The Moment Of Truth! swayed back and forth, suspended by woven twine.

  They walked up just in time to hear Freddy Barnes cuss as he pulled his wallet out of his dirty old bib-overalls.

   "I tell ya what." The man grinned at Freddy Barnes, picking three steel marbles out of the grooves they had settled in. He straightened his bowtie and repositioned the straw hat atop his head. "You give me another twenty bucks and I’ll let ya keep yer fifty points, and you can take another turn." He peeled five twenty-dollar bills off a roll big enough to clog a toilet and slammed them down on the table. "Ya hit a hundred points and I’ll give ya this!"

   "Twenty dollars?" Freddy Barnes whined. "I thought it was five dollars for three rolls."

   "Well hell, sonny." The man flicked a piece of lint off the lapel of his red and white striped sports jacket. "I’m spottin’ ya fifty points here." A big grin spread across his face, steel marbles clacking as he shook them in his hand like they were dice. "You can’t lose."

   "Aw shit." Freddy Barnes sighed and forked over the twenty bucks.

   "Thatta boy!" The man in the booth cried out.

   As Freddy Barnes stepped up to the table, Justin noticed, for the first time, this wasn’t the same Carnival that had come to town last year. There were no brightly colored tents, no mirror-filled Fun House, no painted horses or Merry Go Round or Spinning Cups. There was a faded tent with a big sign out front that read: See The Freaks! And on the opposite end of the lot, another sun-bleached tent and another sign: Girls! Girls! Girls! There were no rides, except for the Ferris Wheel, which kept going round and round, even though nobody was on it. An obese woman stood in a grimy old trailer, a lit cigarette dangling from the corner of her cruel looking mouth. The sign said Corn Dogs and Cotton Candy, but Justin wasn’t about to eat anything she served up.

   Justin watched the men crowd around a small wooden table. There was a four-foot by four-foot slanting panel on its front, with a bunch of small, round grooves cut into it. They were numbered, and each number was a different color. Six grooves had the number twenty-five under them, six had the number thirty and three were numbered with fifty. They were scattered throughout a bunch of tens and fifteens and fives and ones. In the middle of the board, one groove was marked with a bright red 100.

   The man in the booth laid a small steel marble on the table and Freddy Barnes and his friends watched it start its descent. The marble crisscrossed the wooden panel, skipped over a fifteen-point groove and landed squarely in a twenty-five-point slot.

   "Hot damn!" Freddy Barnes crowed as Justin’s eyes grew wide.

   They oohed and ahhed–Freddy’s eyes almost popping out of his head when the next marble danced around the outside of a fifty-point groove–and then groaned when it came to rest in a measly five point groove.

   "Here we go." The corny Carnival Master of Ceremonies showed the last steel aggie as he held it in the palm of his left hand. "The moment of truth!" he cackled. Using the thumb and index finger of his right hand, he plucked the marble from his palm and dramatically placed it on the board.

   Freddy Barnes held his breath, horrified as the marble barely escaped a one-point slot, rimming around it a couple of times before spiraling downward. "Hell yeah!" he hollered as the rest of his friends breathed a sigh of relief.

   "Round and round she goes!" the man in the booth taunted, a shit-eating grin covering his face.

   "Yes, goddamn it!" Freddy cried out as the marble rolled in and out of a thirty pointer, then rolled diagonally across the table and back again, teasing its audience by swirling around a twenty-five point slot, before it finally broke Freddy Barnes’ heart once and for all by dropping into a measly little one-point groove.

   "I’ll tell ya what I’m gonna dooo!" The man in the booth crowed, as the crest-fallen rube deflated like a pinpricked balloon. He pulled out his huge roll of bills, peeled off six fifties and slapped them down on top of the hundred dollars that was already on the table. "You give me another fifty bucks and I’ll let ya keep yer eighty-one points, and you can take another turn!"

   "I ain’t got fifty dollars," red-faced, Freddy replied.

   "Well, how ‘bout you boys?" The man in the booth tipped the back of his straw hat, pushing it low onto his forehead. "You ready for the moment of truth?"

   "Not me," Carl Turner replied as he and the others walked off, with Freddy chasing after them like a puppy dog, waving his arms, crowing, "I only need nineteen points!" frantically begging each and every one of his friends to pitch in.

   As Jimmy Mack stepped up to the booth, Justin noticed a midget waving his arms, motioning him over to the Sideshow tent. He walked away as the man in the booth called out, "Step right up! Ladies and gentlemen! Five’ll get ya ten! Ten’ll get ya twenty! Step right up to the moment of truth!"

   The little man wore a purple vest, a dark red shirt and velvet pants. On his feet were sequined green and gold-trimmed slippers that came to a point, curling upward at the toe. Even though he stood eye to eye with the twelve-year-old child, he looked to be much older than Justin’s father. When he spoke, Justin thought he sounded just like the mayor of Munchkin Land, and that he looked like him too.

   "Hi, little fella. How ya doin’?"

   "Okay."

   "Whatcha think of our little Carny?" The midget smiled and gestured toward the tents, the gaming tables and the Ferris Wheel, which was still spinning.

   "How come there ain’t no rides?" Justin asked. "Where’s the Dodge Cars and The Fun House, and all the kid games?"

   "Kid’s games?" Justin heard someone call out. He saw the midget frown and then scurry off as a man emerged from the Sideshow tent. He was tall and thin as a rail. A stovepipe hat sat atop his head, and long, stiff gray hair hung about his neck like a bunch of loose wires. His loud voice resonated as he sang out, "Who needs kid’s games when you’ve got this?" He waved a hand at the painted banners on either side of the tent:

   See The Pickled Punks! Pounds Of Patty! Watch The Hands Of Wonder! Talk To The Alligator Boy! Marvel At The Rubber Girl! See The Half Man! Meet Sword Swallowin’ Sammy!

   "Hannibal Cobb at yer service." He beckoned for Justin to enter the tent. "C’mon, kid, yer gonna love this."

   Justin followed the man inside and immediately noticed how long the tent seemed to be, much longer than he thought it possibly could be. Sawdust covered the ground. Darkened stalls lined one side of the tent; some held cages while others were enclosed in glass. He nervously wondered just what might be inside them.

   "What’s yer name, little boy?" Hannibal Cobb spoke up.

   "Justin." The child replied.

   "Well, Justin. Take a look at this!" The Carny Boss waved an arm and the first stall lit up, revealing a young man, who instantly started to juggle three multicolored balls. As Justin watched, the youthful juggler used his bare feet to kick three more balls into the air, never missing a beat as he kept the balls spinning through the air, hands moving so fast they became a blur.

   "Wow, neato!"

   "I told ya!" Hannibal Cobb called out with a cheerful laugh. He quickly spun around and pointed a finger. Inside a glass-enclosed stall, a light flashed, popping like an old time photographer’s pod, and another performer sprang to life.

   Sword Swallowin’ Sammy put the tip of an impossibly long saber in his mouth and slid it in, an inch at a time, farther and farther, until Justin gasped as the sword’s handle touched Sammy’s lips, and then howled with laughter as the gleaming tip of the blade ripped a hole in Sammy’s pants, as if it were so long it had gone in his mouth and come out his ass.

   "I told ya!" Hannibal Cobb slapped Justin on his back as he cackled with delight.

   "Hey, whatcha wanna be when ya grow up, Justin?" He spoke excitedly, his deep voice reverberating through the empty tent. "Ya ever thought about joinin’ the Circus, traveling from town to town with the Carnival?"

   "Man," Justin replied. "That would be so neat."

   "We could use a man like you." Cobb grinned as he added, "I taught our little Hands Of Wonder everything he knows… I could teach you some things, too."

   "Really?" the child looked up in wide-eyed-wonder.

   "Of course!" Hannibal Cobb did a back-flip, spun completely around and clapped his hands.

   Another stall came to life, illuminating a beautiful young woman wearing a skimpy, red, and very revealing, skintight costume, basking in an eerie purple haze, cast off by an unnatural glow emanating from parts unknown. She smiled at Justin and raised a leg in the air. She grabbed her foot and, standing on one leg, stretched her other leg straight up, so high above her head that Justin couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She leaned back in an impossible angle, placed her palms on the floor and curled backward underneath her legs until her head was directly in front of her crotch, grinning insanely.

   As Justin gasped in wonder, a serpent’s tongue flicked out of her mouth, wrapped around one of the bars and slithered upward like a runaway vine.

   "I could really teach you a thing or two!" Hannibal Cobb tousled Justin’s hair. He knelt down in front of the child and whispered, "We could start right now. Whatta ya say?"

   "I reckon." Justin, enthralled by the Sideshow performers, was eager to learn whatever Hannibal Cobb was willing to teach him.

   "I’ll be right back!" Cobb called out as he walked past the stalls and disappeared through a curtain.

   Justin walked back to the first stall, marveling as the Juggler tossed so many multicolored balls around, they were impossible to count.

   He moved directly in front of Sword Swallowin’ Sammy, who winked as he put the tip of an incredibly long, serpentine bladed sword in his mouth and swallowed it all the way to the hilt.

   Justin edged back over and watched as The Rubber Girl curled up into a ball, flesh melding together until all he could see was a round red swirl with eyes, and a wide mouth split across it. She had no arms or legs, or even a head. The ball of flesh rolled around the cage, bouncing like a basketball, ricocheting off the bars and the floor and ceiling, moving so fast, all Justin could see was a blurry red streak.

   "Psst! Hey kid!"

   Justin turned and heard somebody whisper, "Over here, kid."

   He saw the midget crawl out from under the next stall.

   "What’re you doin’, kid?" the little man asked.

   "Hannibal Cobb’s gonna teach me some stuff," Justin proudly replied.

   "Get outta here, kid."

   "Why?"

   The midget scampered to his feet. He waddled over to Justin, grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the stall he had been hiding under. "Look, kid, look."

   He flipped a switch on the side of the stall and a light came on inside it.

   Justin saw a glass jar sitting on a big, brightly colored block of wood with a clown’s laughing face emblazoned on its front. Inside the jar, a dead baby floated in a murky fluid. Its stomach was distended and the bald, raison-like head was much too big for its frail little body. Justin had never seen anything like it. He moved forward, put his face closer to the bottle, reached out to touch it, and then jumped back in horror as the figure opened its eyes and screamed, fluid bubbling as air rushed from its open mouth.

   "He’s gonna turn you into that, kid."

   "No he ain’t," Justin whined. "He’s gonna teach me how to juggle."

   The midget pulled Justin over to the next stall, pushing him forward until he was standing right in front of the bars. "Look, kid, look," he whispered, flicking the light switch, revealing a man with no arms or legs, wearing nothing but a dirty, shit-stained diaper. The disgusting lump of flesh opened his mouth, desperately trying to scream through shattered teeth, but his tongue was missing and all he could do was groan and whimper. He shook his head violently back and forth, and hurled himself forward, shattering his nose on the bars as blood spurted and flowed down his face and into his mouth.

   The pathetic creature looked up through glasses as thick as the bottom of a Coke bottle, eyes full of despair, groaning and howling, banging its face against the bars.

   The midget grabbed Justin, turning the child to face him, pleading, "He’s gonna turn you into that, kid. Get outta here. Go, before it’s too late."

   "No," Justin whimpered, tears running down his face. "He’s gonna teach me how to juggle. He’s gonna show me how to swallow a sword."

   The midget took Justin by the hand and led him to the curtain. "Go," he said. "Look."

   Justin took a step, and then another, moving forward on shaky legs. He grabbed the curtain and heard water sloshing, spilling onto the ground. He parted the curtain, gasping as he saw Hannibal Cobb, hunched over, pouring a dark, slimy liquid into a huge jar.

   Cobb spun around, grinning wickedly as he called out, "C’mere kid. Lemme show ya somethin’!"

   Justin opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. He let go of the curtain and fled, slipping on the sawdust and falling face first to the floor. He saw the midget scoot under a stall. A serpent-like tongue rushed toward Justin, the fleshy organ slapping at his ankles while he struggled to his knees. The horrified child staggered forward, as Sword Swallowin’ Sammy swiped, barely missing with his saber. Multicolored wooden balls bounced off his head and body as he finally regained his footing.

   Hannibal Cobb’s feet pounded the sawdust as he rushed past the curtain. "Come back here, kid!" he bellowed. "I wanna show ya somethin’!"

   Justin Henry ran screaming through the tent, past The Rubber Woman and Sword Swallowin’ Sammy, and The Hands of Wonder. He raced into the night, past the brightly colored banners and the obese woman in the grimy trailer. He rushed past Tommy Mack and his daddy, through the entrance and down the dirt road, running as fast as his legs could go.

* * *

   Hannibal Cobb stood in the middle of the Sideshow tent, fuming, his face as red as The Rubber Girl’s skimpy costume. "Emile!" he yelled, and the midget came waddling across the floor.

   Cobb leaned over, whispered in the midget’s ear and sent him off with a sadistic chuckle and a wicked grin.

* * *

   Tommy Mack stood by as his father pulled a wrinkled twenty-dollar bill out of his front pocket and handed it to the man in the booth. As he watched Justin race past the food wagon, he wondered what the heck was wrong. He turned and saw him rush past his daddy and then run off down the old dirt road. When he turned back around, he saw a midget waving at him, motioning him over to The Sideshow tent.

   Tommy Mack slipped away from his daddy and trotted away, hoping the little man would show him something neat.

©2003 William Ollie