Saturday, February 23, 2008

How I Joined the Circus

When I was a kid, my Uncle Lester, a practicing pedophile, took me to the circus. Wow! It left a big impression on me. Even more than what Uncle Lester did to me afterward, which wasn’t too bad since the Lord wasn’t exactly good to him.

What I saw under the big top amazed me! I still to this day love the smell of elephant dung. After seeing the trapeze artists, I’d play on the swings and end up flying through the air with the greatest of ease! I just didn’t land with the greatest of ease. Once I landed on a retard. His mom probably would have believed it was an honest mistake if she hadn’t caught me doing to him what Uncle Lester taught me. And the Lord was quite good to me. Apparently he didn’t care much for that retard. But when I grew up and got out of juvy, I joined the circus!

It all started whe-bleh-bleh-bleh...
[That’s the special flashback fade-out effect]

I knocked on the Ringmaster’s trailer door. The rocking stopped and five clowns ran out zipping up their pants. The Great Ringmaster came out rubbing his behind and asked,

“You a Carney, boy?”
“I’ll eat anything, sir.” I said.
“Close enough.” He muttered, “Walk this way.” I did my best but I had to ask,
“Did you know my Uncle Lester?”
“No, when I was a kid I jumped on my bike one morning and someone had stolen the seat.”

He took me over to the little tent with the tall barbed-wire fence.
“Ever lion-train before, boy?” He asked.
“In juvy, we did both.” I said.
“No, I mean work with big cats.” He said.
“Just Fluffy my pet but I couldn't get him to do squat.” I told him.
“I have an opening for a clown.” He say's. So I say,
“Looked to me like you had an opening for five clowns.” And he goes,
“Well, I need a sixth.” So I'm all,
“C’mon man, you’re already walkin' funny.”

We went over to the little tent with the beer cans all around it and he introduced me to the clowns;

“Flapjacks, Pincushion, Bubbles, Sweetypuss, Peepee, I’d like you to meet your new colleague, uh, what’s your name boy?”
“Oh Shit! (I hadn’t thought of a good clown name yet)
“Nice to meet you, O’Shit!” they all said in unison.
“Hey let’s practice driving!” Said Pincushion.
“Left Window!”
“Right Window!”
“Trunk!” They each shouted.
“Ash Tray!” I shouted.

The car was no bigger than a mailbox. They all folded up their arms and legs and stuffed them into their mouths and behind their ears. I don’t want to know what Sweetypuss did with her right leg. They start squeezing themselves in and oh what a racket, the honking and whoopie cushions.
“Who’s flower just squirted me in the eye.” I said
“Sorry that wasn’t a flower, that was just me, tee hee.” Peepee said.
I tried to get in, but there was no room.
“New guy, everybody out!”
They all got out and started twisting me into a preztel. Somehow we all got in but I had to take off my band-aid to fit. Bubbles was reminding me of Uncle Lester.
“Now we circle the tent right?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, I just gotta pick up a pack of smokes first.” Said Pincushion as we started getting on the freeway. Then Peepee announced,
“I gotta go, again!” I wasn’t concerned, having been annointed.
“Fasten your seatbelts everybody, this Mini Cooper wants to race.” We made it back in one piece...but we pried ourselves apart. Fortunately Peepee doused Pincushions cigarette but I knew clownery wasn’t for me.
“Sorry guy’s, I just don’t fit in.” They were sad to see me go and the tears started flowing. Peepee shimmied up my back, sat on my head and gave me one last squirt for good luck.

Only jobs left were either the Flying Krakaboni Brothers or the Human-Flaming-Cannonball into a Venti-Latte. I really wanted to be in the circus and it was better than aiming for an espresso shot. I climbed into the barrel and before I could adjust my helmet, I’m blazing through the air like a crippled Fokker in a dog fight! At my apogee I looked down and, to my horror, the barista had forgotten to write my name on the Starbucks cup!

Luckily I spotted a nice pudgy retard to land on. They all loved me! Except the retard. But it's okay, retards don’t feel pain the way we do. Anyway, one day I was helping out with the elephants and got an idea. Did you know an elephant has two trunks? At least the bulls do. I now knew how to repay Uncle Lester after all these years. I convinced the old pervert to be the hindquarters of my elephant costume. He couldn’t see back there so he didn’t realize I’d walked him over and backed him up right in front of the bull elephants pen. His epitaph says;


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Ass or Arse, very entertaining all the same