the clown

words by genghis

pictures by rhoda

once upon a time there was a clown in the circus. he travelled from town to town with the ringmaster, the fortune teller, the elephant, the vampire, the werewolf, the bareback dancer, the hoochie-coochie girls and all the other denizens of the circus but no one really knew him. perhaps a very long time ago things had been different but even uncle joe the cotton candy maker and billy freed the shooting gallery proprietor who had been with the circus since daniel and the lion had been the main attraction couldn't remember the rainy night the clown had first appeared on the scene. even though they thought it was about the time of the first murder. the first murder ... uncle joe took a big drag on his unlit and unlightable stogie and stared out of the tent into the darkness and the past ... "yeah kid, i remember the first murder ... like it was yesterday. i was just cleaning up after making up a batch ..." "you must have made a lot of candy in your time, uncle joe." "that i have." "ruined a lot of teeth and intestines and complexions through the years." "i'm trying to tell a story here." "some people would think you were no better than a serial killer." "i'm the bad guy? i thought you wanted to hear about the clown, figure out if he was the bad guy." "think of all the people scarred for life, sobbing in their pillows the night of the senior prom, all because of you." "what are you, some bureaucrat from the world health organization? where's your bow tie? i thought you were the kid!" "i am the kid, but i'm also a person who speaks his mind. if i have something to say, i say it." "kids used to have more respect." "oh go ahead and tell your story about the clown." the little guy came up the hill slowly. frankie saw him first. right away he thought he thought, this is clown material. you see him and you think, he's just a little fellow. he comes closer and you think, he's pretty big. he gets right up to you and he isn't big or little, fat or thin, young or old, ugly or good looking. a perfect clown. "can i help you?'" frankie asked. 'i'd like a job as a clown." "well this is a circus so you came to the right place. got any experience?" "the most." "are you ready to work? the last clown who ran off with the last hoochie kootchie dancer took his clown costume and material with him. you look like you are traveling pretty light there." "excuse me, but you referred to the artist who just departed as 'the last clown'. but he's not the last clown, because i'm here now, standing right before you." "i meant," frankie answered. "he was the last clown before you came along." "then you should have made yourself clearer. to me, last means last; like the last dinosaur, the last arctodus simus, the last cowboy, the last hobo, and so forth. the term 'last' to me, signifies the closing of the books, the end of an era, the passage of something which once was, but is now no more. not simply the passing of a torch, which happens every minute of every day. in fact, isn't reality simply the passing of endless torches?" "well, sir, that is a righteously rigorous definition of the word 'last', and i commend you for it, because, like all circus folks, i admire rigor in all its forms." "except rigor mortis," said the clown. "except rigor mortis, ha ha. good one," frankie told him. "but to return to our oirginal discussion, we won't get to the nearest town with the nearest woolworths or costco's until next week. so are you prepared to use your ingenuity and horse sense to rustle yourself up some clown paraphernalia, and make the next show?" "i am." "good. the next show will be the last -" frankie smiled - "until tomorrow." the clown turned to go. "one thing, sir." "yes." "do you still have hoochie kootchie dancers?" 'why of course, this is the circus, isn't it?' "i only ask because you referred to the young lady who just departed as the last hoochie kootchie dancer." "i apologize for my lack of rigor." "i am happy to hear that there are still hoochie kootchie dancers." frankie and the clown went their separate ways. frankie was quite pleased with the way events had transpired. "so it was frankie who hired the clown?" the kid interrupted. "oh no, mike hired him, frankie was just the first to see him. mike did all the hiring himself. mike ruled the circus like moses ruled the red sea or genghis khan ruled the steppes of central asia. you need a guy like that in the circus. a circus is not a democracy. " "if you say so." "anyway, that night the first murder happened." "who was it?" "i'm sorry but i just can't remember. it was either a man or a woman, a roustabout or a hoochie kootchie dancer." "it sounds like the hoochie kootchie dancers were an integral part of the scene." "well, it's nature's way. the circus is a part of nature." "do you have to say 'hootchie kootchie dancer' every time, can't you just say 'dancer'? "we did, among ourselves." "but ignorant outsiders had to have it spelled out for them every time." "you sure ask a lot of questions." "i like rigor. i should have been in the circus." uncle joe stared at the kid with his bleary eyes. "i'm starting to get awful suspicious of you, kid." "whatever." suddenly uncle joe sprang forward with an agility that belied his years and snatched the wide brimmed gray fedora off the kid's head. long black hair came tumbling down to the kid's shoulders. the kid was - a girl!!! uncle joe shook his head. "you sure had me fooled." "does this mean you won't tell me the story now?" "not at all. in fact it explains a lot." "meaning?' "it's just like a dame to ask a lot of questions." "well since i'm just a dame can i ask some basic questions about this whole scenario?' "the more basic the better." "as i understand it the murders started when the clown joined the circus and continued until he left about thirteen years later when they abruptly stopped." "that is correct." "and then he came back two years later and they started up again?" "that is also correct." "but nobody ever suspected him of anything." "i wouldn't go so far as that. but there was never any proof. in fact, there's no proof to this day. and here in the circus, young lady, we don't deal in suspicion and innuendo, we demand rigorous proof." "rigorous proof. this from an operation advertising acts that supposedly go back to the time of gilgamesh and nebuchadnezzar, and exhibits the true cross and the stake st stephen was tied to." "and the stake joan of arc was tied to, only slightly charred. and the sword of saladin." the kid laughed. "people sell us these things for a reasonable price and we believe what they tell us. we don't call them liars. that would be rude. we demand rigorous proof but we don't call people liars. we're civilized." "you don't see any contradiction there." "we don't see contradiction anywhere. we are citizens of the universe, traveling through all cultures and paradigms. we aren't simple minded white twenty-first century reductionist liberals." 'i do admit i'm a little surprised at the level of abstraction of the conversation. i was expecting something more along the lines of 'where's the chow?' and 'check out those hot gams' ". "you see, you're learning." 'let's get back to the clown.'

chapter 2: at the lake

excitement

words by genghis

pictures by rhoda

"there you go, boys, i don't want to see you again until monday morning." boss barlow had already changed out of his straw boss clothes and into a suit and tie. as he handed andy and conrad their pay packets he exhibited a smiling and friendly demeanor nowhere in evidence during the week. andy thought of asking him where he was headed in his finery, but decided not to. the pay packets were heavy. conrad almost dropped his. he looked inside it and it contained only real money as promised, solid gold coins. andy pocketed his without looking inside it. "do we have to come back here tonight?" he asked boss barlow. "your time is your own until monday morning. go or do anything you like, just be here at 5 am on monday." with a smile, boss barlow closed the pay window in their faces. "guess we were the last ones to get paid," said conrad. "some if the fellows don't get paid. they are in arrears." "that's a big word," said conrad. "do you know what it means?" "not too exactly." they went outside and down the road a ways to wait for the bus. andy and conrad had arrived at the camp by different routes. andy was coming he knew not whence, going he knew not whither. conrad had had, until that week, a clearer path. he was scheduled to enter stanford in the fall, where he would study architecture and medicine, and compete on the cross country and baseball teams. but just that week his grandfather and father had been exposed as intercontinental swindlers, involved in a scheme to build a nonexistent coast to coast highway with the savings of spanish-american and russo-japanese war widows. as a result , the father, grandfather, an aunt and uncle and conrad's older brother and his wife had all fled to mongolia and taken refuge with the bolsheviks - the largest group from america on record to do so. the story had made the san francisco chronicle and conrad had bought twenty-five copies and passed them out to all the fellows in the gang. "when does this bus come?" conrad asked andy. "when it comes, i guess." andy leaned back on the bench. andy was a little older than conrad, and had seen and done things too terrible to contemplate. "what do you want to do when we get there?" "i don't know, what do you want to do?" conrad lowered his voice. "you know, boss barlow said we could do anything we liked. do you think he meant robbing banks and raising cain and stuff?" "i don't know, i think sheriff john brown might have a few things to say about that." "yeah." "and mr j edgar hoover and the fbi too." "so what do you want to do?" andy looked down at his shoes. "you know what i like?" "no, what ?" "i like excitement." "hey, that's what i like, too." "well then it's settled. when we get to town ,we'll look for some excitement." a gentleman in a flat straw hat spotted them when they got off the bus. "evening, boys. in from the camp?" andy looked him over. "are you the mayor?" "not officially." "but some folks call you the mayor." "some might. some night not. anything i can help you with? this is friendly town, boys, with liberty hall on every corner." "we're looking for - " conrad started but andy held up his hand to stop him. "we'll just look around ourselves," andy told the man. "but you'll be here if we change our minds?" "i surely will." i didn't like his looks," andy said as they moved off. "no?" "i didn't like that hat. it looked like he bought it in costa rica. or even belize." an unlit sign above some stairs said "dance". they went up the stairs, a man with a handlebar mustache sat behind a desk like a hotel clerk. there was a large door behind him but no sign of a dance floor. some men were seated on a bench along a wall facing the desk. andy and conrad recognized some from the camp and nodded at them. "having a dance tonight?" andy asked. "we're trying. for the special introductory price of nine cents you can take a seat." "expecting any women?" conrad asked the man. "hard to say. this town's not as lively as it used to be." he shook his head. "can't make any promises." "that's a good way to do business," andy told him. "one of the recurring problems in this world, young man, is people making promises they can't keep." "well if we was to leave and come back, chances are you'd still be here." "the chances are very good indeed." a faded sign in front of what looked like a rooming house said "show." a man in a gray suit stood outside it. it was a good suit but he wasn't wearing a hat! "we got a good show tonight boys. looking for some excitement?" "that we were,"said andy. " i guess you are some kind of mindreading mastermind." " can i ask you a question?" conrad asked the man. "go right ahead." "how come you're not wearing a hat?" "my head gets a little warm sometimes." "so what's the show?" andy asked. "the show - the show - is - a vampire sinking his teeth into a woman's neck. what do you think of that?" "wow, that does sound exciting," andy agreed. "a real live woman?," conrad asked. "as alive as you or me." "how much." "one thin dime." "we don't have any thin dimes," conrad said. "all we have is gold coins." "i can make change." the show took place in the front parlor of the rooming house. the parlor was unlit. there were three other spectators but their faces could not be made out in the darkness. "i like these seats," conrad told the man as they sank into them. "we have seances here sometimes. you have to have comfortable seats." "oh." "people who go to seances insist on a nice comfortably upholstered seat." suddenly a single lamp went on and the vampire and the woman appeared. he sank his teeth into her neck. the lamp went out. it was over in thirty seconds. "did you see that suit the vampire was wearing?" andy asked conrad. "you could feed a family of sixteen for three years for what that suit must have cost." "were those pearls real?" conrad asked the man. "that the woman was wearing?" the man turned on another, larger light, illuminating the room. the vampire and the woman and the other spectators were gone. "i don't know," the man answered conrad. "pearls are not my road game. and it would be rude to ask." "of course." "well boys, if you liked that show, i've got an even better one next week, same time, same place." "and same price?" andy asked. "the same reasonable price." "and what might the show be?" "st peter chasing judas across the desert." "that sounds seriously exciting," andy agreed. "what kind of horse will he be chasing him on?" "actually they will both be riding camels. i hope that's all right." "i guess so. horses would be more exciting, but camels are ok." "and then the week after that i've got the best show of all. the best show of all, for the same low price." "don't keep us in suspense." conrad said. "what is it?" "two weeks from today, right here in this parlor, you can see that dirty little coward bob ford shoot poor jesse james in the back. yes, sir." "wow! " andy and conrad exclaimed together. "we'll be here!" "wish that bus would get here," conrad said. "it's getting cold." they were the only ones waiting for the bus. "it will be here." conrad got up and started stamping his feet. he looked out at the deserted street. "i'd like to get out of here. see the world. go places, do things." "i've gone places and done things," said andy. 'it ain't so much.'