| By: Ty Schwamberger |
Ever since Peter was a little boy he loved going to the circus. From his parent’s accounts and his
own memory, he hadn’t missed a single visit of the traveling show for seventeen years. He loved
every part of it, almost drawn to it in some magical way. He loved watching the flying trapezes
artists, the guys that would swallow swords, clowns doing their silly antics and the trained animals.
He enjoyed the food as well. He could never get enough of the vendors that would walk around
and sell buttery popcorn, colorful cotton candy, warm toasty corndogs and various knickknacks
that he always seemed to talk his parents into buying for him. But for all the excitement that the
various events and people of the circus brought to his life, one person was always his favorite,
The Ringmaster. Once every few years a new guy would fill the prestigious role and to Peter they
always seemed to do a better job of leading the show than the last. If he could do anything in the
whole-wide-world being a Ringmaster would be it.
Letting his parent’s front door slam behind him, Peter zipped up his windbreaker to block out the
cool fall air and started out to school. His mother yelled, “Don’t be late for dinner,” but he didn’t
seem to hear. He didn’t particularly want to go to school today nor did he care about the
trigonometry test that he hadn’t studied for last night. The only thing on his mind was the circus
that was coming to town during the coming weekend, only one day away.
He had been down to the town park once already to watch the workers as they began to erect the
different stands and the Big Top. The Big Top excited him the most. While he watched the
workers, Peter had thought about going up to one of them, ask if they needed any help and that he
would be more than happy to work for free, but was too scared to do so. He knew that he would
have to get over his fear of alternative people if he ever planned to work in a circus, but didn’t
worry about it just yet. He still had another full year of high school, before his parents would let him
work full time somewhere. So instead of going up to one of the workers, he had watched from a
distance and dreamed how it would be to not only work on setting up all the stands and tents but to
work on the inside, with the live performers.
To Peter, working in the circus was his ultimate dream job. Many people gave him strange looks
and choice words when he would tell them about his dream, but he didn’t care. He knew what he
wanted to do with his life and wouldn’t let anything stand in his way.
Crossing over one street to the next, he noticed a small blue and red sign stapled to a telephone
poll. Figuring it was another circus advertisement; he smiled and walked over to it.
The sign read in big bold letters…
Come One…Come All
To the Annual Big Top at the Park!
There will be Lions and Tigers and Bears…oh my!
Plus lots of games, food and drinks (yes, you have to be 21 to buy alcohol) for all to enjoy!
Bring a friend or the whole family!
Only $6.00 per person or $10.00 for the whole family!
Three GIANT shows each night!
Only In Town this Friday & Saturday from 6:00 pm to Midnight!
Hope to see YOU there!
There was some fine print at the bottom of the sign that Peter couldn’t quite see so he reached up
and ripped it from the pole. The sign tore a little bit but was still legible.
“Big Top Circus is in search for an assistant to The Ringmaster. If hired for these two days, you
will be responsible for cleaning the master’s clothing, getting him food, drinks, helping set up
events, etc. If interested, apply at the big white trailer parked on the northwest corner of the park,”
read Peter.
Peter folded the sign, stuck it in his back pocket and continued on to school.
It looked like he was going to be late for dinner after all.
* * *
After school Peter walked to the town park, through the semi-erected stands and tents and up a
few steps to the trailer’s door. He racked his knuckles on the metal door and waited. There were
no sounds coming from inside. There was nothing like someone getting up from a chair or
attending to other duties that would prevent them from answering the door in a timely manner. He
knocked again. Nothing.
Turning around, Peter looked out through the maze of stands and tents. He saw a few straight
jawed and muscular men working diligently to assemble the Big Top’s support system. The steel
poles were so tall they looked like they would reach the heavens. Peter was impressed how
quickly the workers were able to set up, have the show for one weekend, tear it down, put it all on
trailers and do the same thing again the next week in another town. It sounded like hard, but
exciting work. He really wanted to find the Ringmaster, have an interview and hopefully get hired
on the spot. But, Peter knew that if he was hired for the assistant position he would have to tell his
parents about it. After all, they were against him working during the school year but he hoped an
exception would be made just this once. Hell, it would be one step closer to his dream job. That
alone should be something to be proud with him about, but he doubted that would be the case.
Figuring no one was in the trailer; Peter jumped down the steps and began walking. He had to find
someone to speak with about the position. The last thing he wanted to do was go home and come
back tomorrow after school only to find the position had been filled.
As Peter strolled along empty stands and small tents, he could hear chains rattling and the distant
growl of animals in their cages. To many people, the thought of working or even standing in close
proximity with wild animals would scare them half-to-death. But not Peter, oh no. He relished the
thought of training them, standing by them, cracking his whip to do his will. He wanted the power,
the power of the Ringmaster. But he was realistic with his dream. He knew he would have to start
out at the bottom, being an assistant or animal shit-picker-upper or something along those lines.
The thought of having to do meaningless tasks didn’t bother Peter one bit. In fact, he welcomed it,
as he knew that one day he would become what he always wanted to be.
Turning the corner of a medium sized tent, Peter heard voices. He stopped where he was and
listened. One of the voices was large, strong and loud. The other was small, almost tiny. He
hoped one of them was coming from the person from who he was looking to find.
Peter noticed a small gap in between two of the tents flaps and stepped beside it. He didn’t want
to just barge in on someone’s conversation so he angled his head so he could hear what they were
saying. He hoped no one would come around the side of the tent and find him eavesdropping, but
doubted it would happen. The majority of the workers from earlier in the week were gone and the
ones that were left were still setting up the Big Top on the other side of the park. Peter figured he
was safe.
At least he hoped so.
“So, what you’re saying is…after this weekend I am out of a job,” boomed the voice.
“Yes, Samuel…you know the arrangement you made…you get to be on for two years and two
years, only,” replied the small voice.
“But, it’s not fair…I think I have done a wonderful job with this circus…hell, I have increased
revenues ten-fold since being with you.”
“Sure, you have…but that isn’t the whole picture and you know it.”
“Yeah, I know that…but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I didn’t say you had to like it, Samuel, just that you have to abide by the rules…serve your time by
doing your job and then you are done. Period.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am, as always…now fetch me something to eat, I’m starving here…haven’t eaten in
days,” squeaked the small voice.
“Yes, master.”
Peter ducked out of the way, just missing a large man exiting the tent. The behemoth was wearing;
black balloon pants, black boots, a black top hat, a white shirt with an ascot and a bright red jacket.
In one of his hands he was clutching a long, black brailed whip.
The Ringmaster.
If it was indeed the Ringmaster, Peter couldn’t figure why he would be the one going off in search
of food for someone else.
The Ringmaster is always in charge and should be the one giving orders, Peter said to himself.
Not understanding what was going on but needing to find out more, Peter waited for the fat man to
disappear and then ducked into the tent.
Inside he saw a small, naked thing stepping into what looked like a treasure chest. The thing
crouched down and started to pull the lid down.
That is when it looked up and saw Peter.
That is when Peter got a better look at it.
The thing was about two feet tall, had wrinkly pink skin, two beady and soulless eyes, a large flat
nose, black finger and toe nails and crooked brown teeth. If Peter didn’t know any better, he would
have guessed the thing was a dwarf. But there was no way the thing standing in front of Peter was
a little person or a dwarf. It was just too damn strange looking. If it was a little person, it was the
weirdest one Peter had ever seen. The thing’s limbs and appendages were way too long
compared to its body. They were thin too, almost like wet spaghetti noodles. It also had no hair
on its body. Peter thought that maybe the thing had shaved all its hair off, but doubted that was the
case. There was no stubble on the thing’s cheeks, chin, arms, legs or anywhere else for that
matter. Peter felt it was more realistic that it had been born, who knows how long ago, without any
hair. But wasn’t sure of that hypothesis, either.
Peter wanted to turn around and run but he couldn’t.
Something was controlling him, telling him not to move.
The thing climbed out of the box, smiled and began to walk towards him.
* * *
The next day Peter woke up extra early, showered, dressed, loaded and flung his backpack over
his shoulder and grabbed a Pop Tart as he headed out the door to school. He wasn’t excited
about going to school but more of what would come after it - opening night at the circus.
The previous night when Peter had returned home at ten o’clock, his parents asked why he missed
dinner and what he was doing out so late. At the time Peter couldn’t come up with a logical
answer. He muttered something about being at the library, studying, hanging out with friends or
something along those lines but he couldn’t remember for sure what his response had been to his
parent’s questions. His parents yelled a bit and said he was grounded and that there would be no
circus for him this year. Peter had replied with sticking his middle finger up in the air, ran up the
stairs to his room and slammed the door. His parents didn’t give chase. The hell with them, Peter
had thought to himself, I am going anyway.
I have to.
Sitting in first period homeroom Peter tried to remember the events of last night but they were
blurry. Not that he felt a great need to remember, but not remembering something that only
happened the night before was normally cause for alarm or just the reminder of the hangover you
were nursing. Peter had neither of those. He just plain and simple couldn’t remember, much. The
one thing he did recall was that he had signed a contract to be a special assistant to The
Ringmaster at the circus. His dream was becoming a reality and he was stoked about what the
future might hold for him.
He had been instructed by the thing to report to the Ringmaster’s trailer immediately after school.
* * *
After Peter’s final class let out, he went to his locker, threw his books inside and took his backpack
into the boy’s restroom. Locking one of the stall doors behind him he set his backpack on the
toilet seat, unzipped it and took out a pair of black pants, a white button up dress shirt and black
loafers. He dressed quickly, put his school uniform in the backpack, zipped it and went out the stall
door to the bathroom sink. Gazing into the mirror he could almost see the circus reflecting back at
him and how the performers and animals put on a fabulous act for the crowd of yelling and
clapping fans. He couldn’t wait to be part of it.
Bending down, he turned the handle on the left and hot water poured out of the faucet. Steam
drifted up from the sink basin and started to fog up the mirror. The image of the performers and
animals faded until he couldn’t see them any longer. Just then, a group of four seniors entered the
door, laughing about something. Peter didn’t know or care what it was about. They stopped just
inside the door, as it thudded shut behind them. They all stopped talking at once and stared at
him. Peter turned off the water, grabbed his backpack and walked over to the paper towel
dispenser. It was one of the new automated ones where you don’t have to touch anything, just
hold your hands under it and a sheet comes out. The school had just installed them during the
previous summer to aid in cleanliness and cutting down on waste. Not that that curbed the boys
from taking as many as they wanted, as all you had to do was continue to wave your hand under
the contraption until another sheet came buzzing out.
Peter ripped away a piece of towel, dried his hands and made a failed attempt at a hook shot into
the waste can. The wadded up paper hit the floor with a splat. Peter gave a shrug and headed for
the door with an, “Excuse me, fellas.”
The boys didn’t move. One of the boys in particular kept looking back and forth from the trash on
the floor and at Peter.
“Excuse…”
“Hey there, boy,” began the biggest of the four wearing football jerseys, “what do you think you’re
doing.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t huh me, boy…you saw what you did…now correct your wrong and make it a right or I will.”
“What the heck are you talking about,” stammered Peter.
“The shit you threw on the floor…pick it up, now…don’t you have any respect for your
school…you know the old saying, be true to your school and all that shitznit.”
“Why should I pick it up, that’s the janitor’s job, anyway…I don’t get paid for that.”
“Well, it looks like you are getting paid for some sort of job…why the hell are you dressed like that
anyway…no, no, let me guess…you got the lead part in the school play and have to go to
rehearsal or something, right.”
“Uh, no…that’s not it…”
“Come on, Chris, quit messing with him and sock him in the gut,” shouted another one of the other
meatheads.
“Ha, ha ha…oh no, I am not going to hit this fat piece of shit. Besides, my hand might disappear
in that soft dough he calls a stomach.”
The three other boys laughed at their leader’s joke.
“So, come on now, don’t keep us in suspense here. If it isn’t the gay ass school play than where
the hell are you going dressed like that…going to wait tables or something.”
“Uh, no,” muttered Peter nervously. “I’m going to my part-time job tonight. I have to leave for
there right now so that is why I had to change in the school rather than at home.”
“What sort of person would give a fat piece of lard like you a job, anyway?”
“The traveling circus,” replied Peter.
All four boys broke into a thunderous laughter that echoed inside the boy’s bathroom.
Still laughing, the pack of wolves’ leader said, “Well in that case, we are going with you…then when
you are done tonight and get paid…we will get paid.”
The four older and stronger boys lead Peter by the back of his shirt out of the boy’s restroom,
down the hall and out the doors of the school building.
* * *
Peter had no worries about getting to the park when he did since it was supposed to be right after
school. What he was worried about were the four guys that came with him. They were surely the
type to cause trouble and Peter didn’t need any the first day on the job.
They got to the park a little after 3:30. The main show didn’t start till 8:00, but the event grounds
opened to the public at 6:00. Peter knew there wouldn’t be any time to waste messing around with
a bunch of hoodlums so he quickened his pace.
As Peter and the four football players walked down the steep hill to the valley of the park where the
stands and tents were set up, he wondered why they weren’t at football. Peter didn’t know much
about sports, hell, he never played them in his life, but he knew that football practice always started
at 3:15 at the practice field on the northwest side of the school building. Peter then remembered it
was Friday and it would be a game day. There was no way that football players would be able to
go out and run around town and be back at the school to suit up in time for the game. Peter
realized that even though they were seniors they must be on the reserve team, who doesn’t have
their games until Saturday morning.
Damn.
Walking through the grounds, Peter came to the white trailer, motioned towards the boys to ‘stay
put’ and walked up the steps.
Peter heard the boys laugh, as he formed a weak fist with his right hand and rapped twice on the
door.
The door burst open. Peter had to lunge out of the way from getting clobbered.
“Damn, son, where in tar-nation have you bin’”
“Sorry, sir…I, uh, got held up,” Peter replied, motioning behind him with his eyes.
“Ah, I see…well, I think we can take care of that,” whispered the large man.
He motioned Peter into the trailer with one hand and waved the boys to follow.
* * *
Friday night’s festivities went off without a hitch. The bad part for Peter was that he had been so
busy that he hadn’t been able to see any of the events. The good thing was, the four boys that
had bothered him earlier in the day seemed as docile as the trained lions. In fact, they seemed to
be happy as pie working a few of the tables on the grounds, for free. Peter didn’t understand why
they would have agreed to do anything for free, but as long as they weren’t bothering him, he didn’
t much care.
Throughout the night, Peter had done all that had been asked of him from the Ringmaster and his
small sidekick. He didn’t even object to the order of having to give the small thing a sponge bath in
one of those twenty-gallon metal tubs. Peter had filled the tub up with warm soapy water, picked
up and placed the little thing in the middle and proceeded to wash and scrub every wrinkle on its
body. After rinsing the thing off, Peter picked it up and stood it on a clean towel. He then used
another towel to dry off its body. During the process, Peter had a not so wonderful view of the
naked thing standing in front of him.
The thing had had a creepy smile on its face the entire time Peter worked the polly-cotton towel
over its skin. Peter couldn’t tell if the thing liked him or was just appreciative of following orders.
Regardless, Peter didn’t want to know. But on the other hand, Peter had strangely enjoyed what
he had been doing. Maybe it was just that he was actually working for a circus and fulfilling his life
long dream.
He hoped it wasn’t anything but that.
* * *
Peter woke up the next morning energized and refreshed. Rolling off the foldout cot the
Ringmaster had set up for him the night before, Peter stood up and stretched his arms over his
head. His head felt fine but his back and muscles ached all over. It was probably from all activity
the night before. The cot probably hadn’t helped any. Peter made a mental note to start working
out after the weekend so he could lose some weight and be in better the shape the next time the
circus rolled into town.
Opening the door of the trailer, the morning sun reached down into Peter’s eyes. Shielding his
eyes with one hand, he jumped down the steps and began walking through the empty stands and
tents. Not all the tents were actually empty. Some of them housed the still sleeping circus
performers.
The smell of eggs, bacon, toast and coffee drifted through the air. Peter felt his large stomach
rumble with the idea of ingesting breakfast.
Following the smell, Peter came upon a rotund man bending over an open fire pit. He was wearing
blue overalls, a straw hat and was barefoot. He looked to be flipping something over with a large
fork. It looked to be a piece of bacon.
Licking the saliva from his lips, Peter strolled over to the large man and cleared his throat to
announce his arrival. The man didn’t stand up or stop attending to the bacon; instead he just
twisted his head and snorted.
“Good morning…can I help with anything,” asked Peter.
“No, but thanks for askin’…”
“It would really be no problem at all…heck that is what I am here for anyway…to help, that is.”
“Nah, don’t neeed no help. I been doin’ this for longer than you have had hair on your boys.”
Peter thought of the small, naked thing he had to bathe the night before.
“But, if you want, go grab yourself a plate off the table and help yourself to some grub and sludge.”
“Sludge?”
“Damn, boy…coffee…black gold, ya know.”
“Ah, ok, gotcha.”
Peter went and fetched himself a paper plate and a plastic fork and coffee mug. He piled the plate
high with scrambled eggs, bacon and two pieces of toast. Filling his plastic mug with black gold,
Peter walked over and sat indian style on the grass on the other side of the fire pit. He glanced up
to see if the cook was watching him. He wasn’t. Peter took a sip of coffee; it burnt his tongue but
tasted wonderful.
As Peter was having breakfast, several other circus personnel showed up to eat and socialize
about the previous night. Some of the individuals he remembered, like the female trapeze artists
and the muscular man that swallowed the swords.
He liked looking at the trapeze artist the most.
From what he could remember, her name was Julie and even now in the morning she looked
polished and fabulous. Her blond hair was drawn into a ponytail and reached the top of her
shoulder blades. She was wearing tight, black spandex running shorts and a sports bra. She was
slender but had curves in all the right places.
Peter couldn’t believe his eyes. His mouth fell open. He hoped none of the chewed food that was
in his mouth was spilling out and onto his chin. He swiped his face with the back of his hand just to
be sure. The front of his pants began to rise. He placed the plate on top of the bulge and tried to
think of something else. But he couldn’t. She was so beautiful. Sure, he had seen women in
magazines and such, but none even this close to being naked in person. He wanted to stand up,
walk over to her and take her into his arms, kiss her, touch her…
“Good Morning,” boomed the Ringmaster, snapping Peter out of his fantasy.
“Good Morning,” replied everyone in unison.
As the Ringmaster spoke about the previous night’s sales and things to improve on, Peter
continued with his breakfast. He should have been listening to what Samuel, The Ringmaster, was
saying but his mind wandered instead.
Peter thought about how he had lied to his parents about where he would be for the weekend.
Half way through the school day on Friday, Peter thought of a scheme of telling his parents of a
last minute tournament the chess club was traveling to over the weekend. His parents knew that
chess was Peter’s only extracurricular activity so they had to say “Yes, you can go. But
remember, no circus.” Peter never even heard the last part. He had hung up the phone with his
mother and skipped down the hall to the boy’s restroom where he needed to change into work
clothes. The only thing that worried him was his parents making an unexpected visit to the circus
and seeing him working there. Peter doubted that would happen, not without him begging his
parents to go, as he always had to do in the past.
Finishing up a piece of crusty toast and swallowing the last few gulps of tepid coffee, Peter stood
up and made his way over to the trash receptacle that was set up on one end of the food
preparation table. Tilting his head back to make sure he got every last drop of coffee, he threw the
empty plate, fork, napkin and paper mug in the can.
Turning around he almost ran into a short, thin, skeleton looking man. He was wearing only boxer
briefs and a crooked John Deer hat. He had a glob of partially chewed eggs and saliva on his
chin. Peter tried not to stare at it and said, “Excuse me” as he tried to get by the creepy guy.
The man stood his ground and rocked from side to side as Peter tried to step past him.
“Excuse me, sir,” muttered Peter, again.
“No, no…excuse ME, boy,” croaked the creepy dude.
“Yeah, that is what I meant, err…”
The man thrust his arms forward. The impact sent Peter back pedaling, his rump slammed against
the trashcan. Both Peter and various items of food and trash went flying through the air.
Lying on the ground and coughing to catch his breath, Peter tried to sit up but the man ran over and
stomped his foot down on his chest. If the guy didn’t let up on the pressure soon, Peter was sure
he was going to crack a rib.
The man’s face shot down and was in inches of Peter’s nose. Peter could smell the sour aroma
of egg and coffee on the man’s breath. Peter tried to twist his head to one side, but the man
reached down and grabbed his chubby cheeks with his hand. Peter was making a fishy face under
the pressure of the man’s grasp.
“What…”
“Shut up, boy and listen to what I got to say.”
“Uh…o…k…”
* * *
The rest of the morning and afternoon went off without a hitch. The Ringmaster and his dwarf
looking sidekick had Peter run various errands and do other important tasks around the park to
ensure an error proof show. Even with the encounter earlier in the day, Peter was enjoying himself
now more than ever. The skeleton guy’s words kept lurching back into Peter’s mind, but he tried to
keep them at bay by staying busy and focusing on his ultimate dream, one that he was now living.
“Just tell me you didn’t sign anything,” slurred the guy’s words, in Peter’s head.
“Of course I did,” Peter had replied.
A look of fright and sorrow had rushed across the skeleton guy’s face with Peter’s words.
“Then you are doomed…just like I and the one’s before us.”
The word he used, US, for some reason was still bothering Peter, though he couldn’t figure out
why.
Peter worked the rest of the day getting ready for the opening of the last day of the circus.
* * *
“Welcome, friends,” boomed the Ringmaster’s voice into a microphone, “I’m so happy you all
have joined us on this special night.”
The crowd under the Big Top was going crazy. There were old and young alike in the stands.
Kids were running unattended as they always did up and down the aisles, while some parents gave
chase. Vendors were selling food and the various knickknacks that Peter had always loved so
much. If he wasn’t working for the circus right now, Peter knew he would be one of them, standing
and cheering for the upcoming show to begin.
The night was indeed special and Peter could feel the energy in the air.
For the show, Peter was given permission to watch the events from the performer’s entrance into
the Big Top. At one point during the night, Peter could have sworn he saw his parents in the
stands but then they seemingly disappeared when the crowd erupted in applause from Julie’s high
flying trapeze act. Peter wasn’t convinced it was the way she swung from seat to seat but more of
how you could see her bare buttocks under her short skirt. Either way, Peter was enjoying it and
wasn’t going to complain or tell her what the fans were probably seeing.
* * *
At what would be the beginning of the grand finale of the show, the Ringmaster walked up beside
Peter, gave a wink and strolled into the center of the largest of three giant rings that covered the
floor of the Big Top. The performers and animals that were in the middle of doing their various
tricks all stopped at once and turned towards the center of the tent.
“Ladies and Gentlemen…ladies and gentlemen…may I have your attention.”
The crowd’s volume lowered to a quiet chatter.
The Ringmaster cleared his throat and continued, “As I mentioned at the very beginning of the
show, this is a very important night. But first, I have an announcement to make. First, I would like
to thank you again for taking the time out of your busy lives and spend your hard earned money at
our circus, for that, we performers are indebted to you. Second, I would like to inform you all that I
have had the distinct pleasure of being your Ringmaster for the past two years…but my time has
come to say good-bye.”
Peter couldn’t believe his ears. The one guy that had given him a job sounded like he was going to
retire or something.
Peter’s hope of being part of the traveling circus year after year when they returned to the town of
Cape Susie was fading fast. He wiped the tear forming in the corner of his eye.
“But,” the Ringmaster continued, “I have the pleasure of welcoming in a new Ringmaster and
anointing him with this very whip.”
Anointing? Now Peter was really confused at what was going on.
The Ringmaster flicked his wrist.
The crack of the whip sounded like a shotgun going off.
Peter flinched and thought he heard his name being broadcasted over the loudspeakers on the
inside of the Big Top.
Nah, there’s no way…
“Peter…Peter Smallwood...please come forward,” boomed the voice.
A bright spotlight highlighted where Peter was hiding by the entrance flaps to the tent.
Peter blinked his eyes a few times, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.
“Peter, please join me in the center of the ring,” boomed the voice, again.
The crowd exploded into shouts of encouragement and applause as Peter ducked out from behind
the tent flap and hesitantly made his way into the center of the circus and onto his dream.
* * *
As the crowd dissipated and left the circus grounds, Peter followed Samuel back to the white
trailer. They chatted on and off about the ins and outs about being a successful Ringmaster but
nothing too serious. Samuel said he wanted to wait for some privacy to explain it all. As they
walked, Peter had to adjust the large, black top hat on his head but he made it back without tripping
over anything and breaking his neck. In his left hand, he gripped a black, braided whip.
Closing the door behind them, Samuel asked Peter if he wanted a beer or something to drink.
Peter replied with, “Sure, a beer sounds great.” Even though Peter had never had a drop of
alcohol in his life, he wanted to sound mature especially now with all that was probably expected of
him.
Grabbing the can of Schlitz from Samuel, Peter popped the top and took a quick gulp. The foamy
liquid was bitter but tasted great. He took another sip and set the can on a fold out card
table/dinning room table that was standing next to the fold out cot he had slept in the night before.
“So, what questions are swirling around in that head of yours, Peter?”
“Honestly, I have no idea…uhm…I am not sure I truly understand what even happened today. I
mean, I get up and feel good, have breakfast, get attacked by some creepy dude, work my butt off
and now all this…I am sort at a loss for words, ya know.”
“Yeah, I remember my initiation too…probably felt the same way you do now.”
“But…how…what…I mean, I know you knew that I wanted to be part of the circus and all from my
application and interview and such, but I never in a million years thought I would BE the circus, ya
know.”
“Oh, I know…believe me, I know.”
“So, how did you know that I wanted to…”
“Son, everyone that comes to a circus has dreams about being part of it. It’s just that not
everyone has the balls or brains to reach out and take the bull…”
“I’m not really following you, Samuel.”
“WE saw YOU, Peter. Year after year, you would come to the circus and would always be in the
front row. Your parents too, they looked like they were fans, which is why we contacted them a
few months ago and told them our plans.”
“But, but…my parents never said anything to me…in fact, they tried to keep me from coming this
weekend.”
“We know that, Peter. Your parents were against the whole ordeal. Which is why they probably
thought they could keep you from coming to the circus this weekend by grounding you…we all see
how well that played out,” chuckled Samuel.
“But, what if I wasn’t able to get away and come here…what would have become of my dreams.”
“Oh, I don’t think there is any reason to think there wouldn’t have been a way to get you out of your
parent’s house to make all this happen. Hell, I was all of eighteen when I started with the circus
and my parents were against it too at the time, but we have a work around for things like that.”
“A work around,” asked Peter.
“Kill’em,” said Samuel, in a matter-of-fact sort of way.
“Damn.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“So, I take it that is what happened to your parents…wait, how old are you anyway.”
As Peter asked the question, Samuel’s clothes began to get loose around his normally full mid
section.
Peter rubbed his tired eyes to tighten up his vision.
“I’m twenty years old to the day.”
“Wait…what…you don’t look…”
“Looks can be deceiving, Peter.”
“But, you look more like fifty or something.”
“Yes, this is true...I do look older…what can I say…circus life isn’t easy.”
Samuel’s clothes were now so large that he looked like he was swimming in them. He reached
down and started to unbutton his red coat and white shirt.
After removing them, he took off his black boots and balloon pants.
“Well…guess these are yours now…doesn’t look like I could wear them any longer even if I had
to,” laughed Samuel, tossing the clothes to Peter.
“What in the world…”
Peter remembered the conversation he had first heard between Samuel and the little thing in the
tent. He also had fresh in his mind the words of the skeleton man this morning.
Peter was beginning to put the puzzle pieces into place. How someone is hired into the
Ringmaster position for 2-years and then must give up their roll. Over time the person will age and
shrink down…down to the little thing he saw a few nights ago. Sure, Peter wanted to lose weight
and be part of the circus but he didn’t think signing on the dotted line of a contract would mean this.
The hell with it, Peter said to himself, this is what I have always wanted…not going to back out
now, probably couldn’t even if I wanted to…I did sign the contract. Damn. I guess this is what
they say about always reading the fine print…
“From the look on your face, I can see you are starting to get it,” muttered Samuel, as he stood
up, walked to the door, opened it and strolled out into the chilly fall air.
In the distance, Peter could hear his workers beginning to tear down the Big Top.
They would be on the road soon enough, traveling to the next town where Peter would begin his
dream job of being…
The Ringmaster.
own memory, he hadn’t missed a single visit of the traveling show for seventeen years. He loved
every part of it, almost drawn to it in some magical way. He loved watching the flying trapezes
artists, the guys that would swallow swords, clowns doing their silly antics and the trained animals.
He enjoyed the food as well. He could never get enough of the vendors that would walk around
and sell buttery popcorn, colorful cotton candy, warm toasty corndogs and various knickknacks
that he always seemed to talk his parents into buying for him. But for all the excitement that the
various events and people of the circus brought to his life, one person was always his favorite,
The Ringmaster. Once every few years a new guy would fill the prestigious role and to Peter they
always seemed to do a better job of leading the show than the last. If he could do anything in the
whole-wide-world being a Ringmaster would be it.
Letting his parent’s front door slam behind him, Peter zipped up his windbreaker to block out the
cool fall air and started out to school. His mother yelled, “Don’t be late for dinner,” but he didn’t
seem to hear. He didn’t particularly want to go to school today nor did he care about the
trigonometry test that he hadn’t studied for last night. The only thing on his mind was the circus
that was coming to town during the coming weekend, only one day away.
He had been down to the town park once already to watch the workers as they began to erect the
different stands and the Big Top. The Big Top excited him the most. While he watched the
workers, Peter had thought about going up to one of them, ask if they needed any help and that he
would be more than happy to work for free, but was too scared to do so. He knew that he would
have to get over his fear of alternative people if he ever planned to work in a circus, but didn’t
worry about it just yet. He still had another full year of high school, before his parents would let him
work full time somewhere. So instead of going up to one of the workers, he had watched from a
distance and dreamed how it would be to not only work on setting up all the stands and tents but to
work on the inside, with the live performers.
To Peter, working in the circus was his ultimate dream job. Many people gave him strange looks
and choice words when he would tell them about his dream, but he didn’t care. He knew what he
wanted to do with his life and wouldn’t let anything stand in his way.
Crossing over one street to the next, he noticed a small blue and red sign stapled to a telephone
poll. Figuring it was another circus advertisement; he smiled and walked over to it.
The sign read in big bold letters…
Come One…Come All
To the Annual Big Top at the Park!
There will be Lions and Tigers and Bears…oh my!
Plus lots of games, food and drinks (yes, you have to be 21 to buy alcohol) for all to enjoy!
Bring a friend or the whole family!
Only $6.00 per person or $10.00 for the whole family!
Three GIANT shows each night!
Only In Town this Friday & Saturday from 6:00 pm to Midnight!
Hope to see YOU there!
There was some fine print at the bottom of the sign that Peter couldn’t quite see so he reached up
and ripped it from the pole. The sign tore a little bit but was still legible.
“Big Top Circus is in search for an assistant to The Ringmaster. If hired for these two days, you
will be responsible for cleaning the master’s clothing, getting him food, drinks, helping set up
events, etc. If interested, apply at the big white trailer parked on the northwest corner of the park,”
read Peter.
Peter folded the sign, stuck it in his back pocket and continued on to school.
It looked like he was going to be late for dinner after all.
* * *
After school Peter walked to the town park, through the semi-erected stands and tents and up a
few steps to the trailer’s door. He racked his knuckles on the metal door and waited. There were
no sounds coming from inside. There was nothing like someone getting up from a chair or
attending to other duties that would prevent them from answering the door in a timely manner. He
knocked again. Nothing.
Turning around, Peter looked out through the maze of stands and tents. He saw a few straight
jawed and muscular men working diligently to assemble the Big Top’s support system. The steel
poles were so tall they looked like they would reach the heavens. Peter was impressed how
quickly the workers were able to set up, have the show for one weekend, tear it down, put it all on
trailers and do the same thing again the next week in another town. It sounded like hard, but
exciting work. He really wanted to find the Ringmaster, have an interview and hopefully get hired
on the spot. But, Peter knew that if he was hired for the assistant position he would have to tell his
parents about it. After all, they were against him working during the school year but he hoped an
exception would be made just this once. Hell, it would be one step closer to his dream job. That
alone should be something to be proud with him about, but he doubted that would be the case.
Figuring no one was in the trailer; Peter jumped down the steps and began walking. He had to find
someone to speak with about the position. The last thing he wanted to do was go home and come
back tomorrow after school only to find the position had been filled.
As Peter strolled along empty stands and small tents, he could hear chains rattling and the distant
growl of animals in their cages. To many people, the thought of working or even standing in close
proximity with wild animals would scare them half-to-death. But not Peter, oh no. He relished the
thought of training them, standing by them, cracking his whip to do his will. He wanted the power,
the power of the Ringmaster. But he was realistic with his dream. He knew he would have to start
out at the bottom, being an assistant or animal shit-picker-upper or something along those lines.
The thought of having to do meaningless tasks didn’t bother Peter one bit. In fact, he welcomed it,
as he knew that one day he would become what he always wanted to be.
Turning the corner of a medium sized tent, Peter heard voices. He stopped where he was and
listened. One of the voices was large, strong and loud. The other was small, almost tiny. He
hoped one of them was coming from the person from who he was looking to find.
Peter noticed a small gap in between two of the tents flaps and stepped beside it. He didn’t want
to just barge in on someone’s conversation so he angled his head so he could hear what they were
saying. He hoped no one would come around the side of the tent and find him eavesdropping, but
doubted it would happen. The majority of the workers from earlier in the week were gone and the
ones that were left were still setting up the Big Top on the other side of the park. Peter figured he
was safe.
At least he hoped so.
“So, what you’re saying is…after this weekend I am out of a job,” boomed the voice.
“Yes, Samuel…you know the arrangement you made…you get to be on for two years and two
years, only,” replied the small voice.
“But, it’s not fair…I think I have done a wonderful job with this circus…hell, I have increased
revenues ten-fold since being with you.”
“Sure, you have…but that isn’t the whole picture and you know it.”
“Yeah, I know that…but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I didn’t say you had to like it, Samuel, just that you have to abide by the rules…serve your time by
doing your job and then you are done. Period.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am, as always…now fetch me something to eat, I’m starving here…haven’t eaten in
days,” squeaked the small voice.
“Yes, master.”
Peter ducked out of the way, just missing a large man exiting the tent. The behemoth was wearing;
black balloon pants, black boots, a black top hat, a white shirt with an ascot and a bright red jacket.
In one of his hands he was clutching a long, black brailed whip.
The Ringmaster.
If it was indeed the Ringmaster, Peter couldn’t figure why he would be the one going off in search
of food for someone else.
The Ringmaster is always in charge and should be the one giving orders, Peter said to himself.
Not understanding what was going on but needing to find out more, Peter waited for the fat man to
disappear and then ducked into the tent.
Inside he saw a small, naked thing stepping into what looked like a treasure chest. The thing
crouched down and started to pull the lid down.
That is when it looked up and saw Peter.
That is when Peter got a better look at it.
The thing was about two feet tall, had wrinkly pink skin, two beady and soulless eyes, a large flat
nose, black finger and toe nails and crooked brown teeth. If Peter didn’t know any better, he would
have guessed the thing was a dwarf. But there was no way the thing standing in front of Peter was
a little person or a dwarf. It was just too damn strange looking. If it was a little person, it was the
weirdest one Peter had ever seen. The thing’s limbs and appendages were way too long
compared to its body. They were thin too, almost like wet spaghetti noodles. It also had no hair
on its body. Peter thought that maybe the thing had shaved all its hair off, but doubted that was the
case. There was no stubble on the thing’s cheeks, chin, arms, legs or anywhere else for that
matter. Peter felt it was more realistic that it had been born, who knows how long ago, without any
hair. But wasn’t sure of that hypothesis, either.
Peter wanted to turn around and run but he couldn’t.
Something was controlling him, telling him not to move.
The thing climbed out of the box, smiled and began to walk towards him.
* * *
The next day Peter woke up extra early, showered, dressed, loaded and flung his backpack over
his shoulder and grabbed a Pop Tart as he headed out the door to school. He wasn’t excited
about going to school but more of what would come after it - opening night at the circus.
The previous night when Peter had returned home at ten o’clock, his parents asked why he missed
dinner and what he was doing out so late. At the time Peter couldn’t come up with a logical
answer. He muttered something about being at the library, studying, hanging out with friends or
something along those lines but he couldn’t remember for sure what his response had been to his
parent’s questions. His parents yelled a bit and said he was grounded and that there would be no
circus for him this year. Peter had replied with sticking his middle finger up in the air, ran up the
stairs to his room and slammed the door. His parents didn’t give chase. The hell with them, Peter
had thought to himself, I am going anyway.
I have to.
Sitting in first period homeroom Peter tried to remember the events of last night but they were
blurry. Not that he felt a great need to remember, but not remembering something that only
happened the night before was normally cause for alarm or just the reminder of the hangover you
were nursing. Peter had neither of those. He just plain and simple couldn’t remember, much. The
one thing he did recall was that he had signed a contract to be a special assistant to The
Ringmaster at the circus. His dream was becoming a reality and he was stoked about what the
future might hold for him.
He had been instructed by the thing to report to the Ringmaster’s trailer immediately after school.
* * *
After Peter’s final class let out, he went to his locker, threw his books inside and took his backpack
into the boy’s restroom. Locking one of the stall doors behind him he set his backpack on the
toilet seat, unzipped it and took out a pair of black pants, a white button up dress shirt and black
loafers. He dressed quickly, put his school uniform in the backpack, zipped it and went out the stall
door to the bathroom sink. Gazing into the mirror he could almost see the circus reflecting back at
him and how the performers and animals put on a fabulous act for the crowd of yelling and
clapping fans. He couldn’t wait to be part of it.
Bending down, he turned the handle on the left and hot water poured out of the faucet. Steam
drifted up from the sink basin and started to fog up the mirror. The image of the performers and
animals faded until he couldn’t see them any longer. Just then, a group of four seniors entered the
door, laughing about something. Peter didn’t know or care what it was about. They stopped just
inside the door, as it thudded shut behind them. They all stopped talking at once and stared at
him. Peter turned off the water, grabbed his backpack and walked over to the paper towel
dispenser. It was one of the new automated ones where you don’t have to touch anything, just
hold your hands under it and a sheet comes out. The school had just installed them during the
previous summer to aid in cleanliness and cutting down on waste. Not that that curbed the boys
from taking as many as they wanted, as all you had to do was continue to wave your hand under
the contraption until another sheet came buzzing out.
Peter ripped away a piece of towel, dried his hands and made a failed attempt at a hook shot into
the waste can. The wadded up paper hit the floor with a splat. Peter gave a shrug and headed for
the door with an, “Excuse me, fellas.”
The boys didn’t move. One of the boys in particular kept looking back and forth from the trash on
the floor and at Peter.
“Excuse…”
“Hey there, boy,” began the biggest of the four wearing football jerseys, “what do you think you’re
doing.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t huh me, boy…you saw what you did…now correct your wrong and make it a right or I will.”
“What the heck are you talking about,” stammered Peter.
“The shit you threw on the floor…pick it up, now…don’t you have any respect for your
school…you know the old saying, be true to your school and all that shitznit.”
“Why should I pick it up, that’s the janitor’s job, anyway…I don’t get paid for that.”
“Well, it looks like you are getting paid for some sort of job…why the hell are you dressed like that
anyway…no, no, let me guess…you got the lead part in the school play and have to go to
rehearsal or something, right.”
“Uh, no…that’s not it…”
“Come on, Chris, quit messing with him and sock him in the gut,” shouted another one of the other
meatheads.
“Ha, ha ha…oh no, I am not going to hit this fat piece of shit. Besides, my hand might disappear
in that soft dough he calls a stomach.”
The three other boys laughed at their leader’s joke.
“So, come on now, don’t keep us in suspense here. If it isn’t the gay ass school play than where
the hell are you going dressed like that…going to wait tables or something.”
“Uh, no,” muttered Peter nervously. “I’m going to my part-time job tonight. I have to leave for
there right now so that is why I had to change in the school rather than at home.”
“What sort of person would give a fat piece of lard like you a job, anyway?”
“The traveling circus,” replied Peter.
All four boys broke into a thunderous laughter that echoed inside the boy’s bathroom.
Still laughing, the pack of wolves’ leader said, “Well in that case, we are going with you…then when
you are done tonight and get paid…we will get paid.”
The four older and stronger boys lead Peter by the back of his shirt out of the boy’s restroom,
down the hall and out the doors of the school building.
* * *
Peter had no worries about getting to the park when he did since it was supposed to be right after
school. What he was worried about were the four guys that came with him. They were surely the
type to cause trouble and Peter didn’t need any the first day on the job.
They got to the park a little after 3:30. The main show didn’t start till 8:00, but the event grounds
opened to the public at 6:00. Peter knew there wouldn’t be any time to waste messing around with
a bunch of hoodlums so he quickened his pace.
As Peter and the four football players walked down the steep hill to the valley of the park where the
stands and tents were set up, he wondered why they weren’t at football. Peter didn’t know much
about sports, hell, he never played them in his life, but he knew that football practice always started
at 3:15 at the practice field on the northwest side of the school building. Peter then remembered it
was Friday and it would be a game day. There was no way that football players would be able to
go out and run around town and be back at the school to suit up in time for the game. Peter
realized that even though they were seniors they must be on the reserve team, who doesn’t have
their games until Saturday morning.
Damn.
Walking through the grounds, Peter came to the white trailer, motioned towards the boys to ‘stay
put’ and walked up the steps.
Peter heard the boys laugh, as he formed a weak fist with his right hand and rapped twice on the
door.
The door burst open. Peter had to lunge out of the way from getting clobbered.
“Damn, son, where in tar-nation have you bin’”
“Sorry, sir…I, uh, got held up,” Peter replied, motioning behind him with his eyes.
“Ah, I see…well, I think we can take care of that,” whispered the large man.
He motioned Peter into the trailer with one hand and waved the boys to follow.
* * *
Friday night’s festivities went off without a hitch. The bad part for Peter was that he had been so
busy that he hadn’t been able to see any of the events. The good thing was, the four boys that
had bothered him earlier in the day seemed as docile as the trained lions. In fact, they seemed to
be happy as pie working a few of the tables on the grounds, for free. Peter didn’t understand why
they would have agreed to do anything for free, but as long as they weren’t bothering him, he didn’
t much care.
Throughout the night, Peter had done all that had been asked of him from the Ringmaster and his
small sidekick. He didn’t even object to the order of having to give the small thing a sponge bath in
one of those twenty-gallon metal tubs. Peter had filled the tub up with warm soapy water, picked
up and placed the little thing in the middle and proceeded to wash and scrub every wrinkle on its
body. After rinsing the thing off, Peter picked it up and stood it on a clean towel. He then used
another towel to dry off its body. During the process, Peter had a not so wonderful view of the
naked thing standing in front of him.
The thing had had a creepy smile on its face the entire time Peter worked the polly-cotton towel
over its skin. Peter couldn’t tell if the thing liked him or was just appreciative of following orders.
Regardless, Peter didn’t want to know. But on the other hand, Peter had strangely enjoyed what
he had been doing. Maybe it was just that he was actually working for a circus and fulfilling his life
long dream.
He hoped it wasn’t anything but that.
* * *
Peter woke up the next morning energized and refreshed. Rolling off the foldout cot the
Ringmaster had set up for him the night before, Peter stood up and stretched his arms over his
head. His head felt fine but his back and muscles ached all over. It was probably from all activity
the night before. The cot probably hadn’t helped any. Peter made a mental note to start working
out after the weekend so he could lose some weight and be in better the shape the next time the
circus rolled into town.
Opening the door of the trailer, the morning sun reached down into Peter’s eyes. Shielding his
eyes with one hand, he jumped down the steps and began walking through the empty stands and
tents. Not all the tents were actually empty. Some of them housed the still sleeping circus
performers.
The smell of eggs, bacon, toast and coffee drifted through the air. Peter felt his large stomach
rumble with the idea of ingesting breakfast.
Following the smell, Peter came upon a rotund man bending over an open fire pit. He was wearing
blue overalls, a straw hat and was barefoot. He looked to be flipping something over with a large
fork. It looked to be a piece of bacon.
Licking the saliva from his lips, Peter strolled over to the large man and cleared his throat to
announce his arrival. The man didn’t stand up or stop attending to the bacon; instead he just
twisted his head and snorted.
“Good morning…can I help with anything,” asked Peter.
“No, but thanks for askin’…”
“It would really be no problem at all…heck that is what I am here for anyway…to help, that is.”
“Nah, don’t neeed no help. I been doin’ this for longer than you have had hair on your boys.”
Peter thought of the small, naked thing he had to bathe the night before.
“But, if you want, go grab yourself a plate off the table and help yourself to some grub and sludge.”
“Sludge?”
“Damn, boy…coffee…black gold, ya know.”
“Ah, ok, gotcha.”
Peter went and fetched himself a paper plate and a plastic fork and coffee mug. He piled the plate
high with scrambled eggs, bacon and two pieces of toast. Filling his plastic mug with black gold,
Peter walked over and sat indian style on the grass on the other side of the fire pit. He glanced up
to see if the cook was watching him. He wasn’t. Peter took a sip of coffee; it burnt his tongue but
tasted wonderful.
As Peter was having breakfast, several other circus personnel showed up to eat and socialize
about the previous night. Some of the individuals he remembered, like the female trapeze artists
and the muscular man that swallowed the swords.
He liked looking at the trapeze artist the most.
From what he could remember, her name was Julie and even now in the morning she looked
polished and fabulous. Her blond hair was drawn into a ponytail and reached the top of her
shoulder blades. She was wearing tight, black spandex running shorts and a sports bra. She was
slender but had curves in all the right places.
Peter couldn’t believe his eyes. His mouth fell open. He hoped none of the chewed food that was
in his mouth was spilling out and onto his chin. He swiped his face with the back of his hand just to
be sure. The front of his pants began to rise. He placed the plate on top of the bulge and tried to
think of something else. But he couldn’t. She was so beautiful. Sure, he had seen women in
magazines and such, but none even this close to being naked in person. He wanted to stand up,
walk over to her and take her into his arms, kiss her, touch her…
“Good Morning,” boomed the Ringmaster, snapping Peter out of his fantasy.
“Good Morning,” replied everyone in unison.
As the Ringmaster spoke about the previous night’s sales and things to improve on, Peter
continued with his breakfast. He should have been listening to what Samuel, The Ringmaster, was
saying but his mind wandered instead.
Peter thought about how he had lied to his parents about where he would be for the weekend.
Half way through the school day on Friday, Peter thought of a scheme of telling his parents of a
last minute tournament the chess club was traveling to over the weekend. His parents knew that
chess was Peter’s only extracurricular activity so they had to say “Yes, you can go. But
remember, no circus.” Peter never even heard the last part. He had hung up the phone with his
mother and skipped down the hall to the boy’s restroom where he needed to change into work
clothes. The only thing that worried him was his parents making an unexpected visit to the circus
and seeing him working there. Peter doubted that would happen, not without him begging his
parents to go, as he always had to do in the past.
Finishing up a piece of crusty toast and swallowing the last few gulps of tepid coffee, Peter stood
up and made his way over to the trash receptacle that was set up on one end of the food
preparation table. Tilting his head back to make sure he got every last drop of coffee, he threw the
empty plate, fork, napkin and paper mug in the can.
Turning around he almost ran into a short, thin, skeleton looking man. He was wearing only boxer
briefs and a crooked John Deer hat. He had a glob of partially chewed eggs and saliva on his
chin. Peter tried not to stare at it and said, “Excuse me” as he tried to get by the creepy guy.
The man stood his ground and rocked from side to side as Peter tried to step past him.
“Excuse me, sir,” muttered Peter, again.
“No, no…excuse ME, boy,” croaked the creepy dude.
“Yeah, that is what I meant, err…”
The man thrust his arms forward. The impact sent Peter back pedaling, his rump slammed against
the trashcan. Both Peter and various items of food and trash went flying through the air.
Lying on the ground and coughing to catch his breath, Peter tried to sit up but the man ran over and
stomped his foot down on his chest. If the guy didn’t let up on the pressure soon, Peter was sure
he was going to crack a rib.
The man’s face shot down and was in inches of Peter’s nose. Peter could smell the sour aroma
of egg and coffee on the man’s breath. Peter tried to twist his head to one side, but the man
reached down and grabbed his chubby cheeks with his hand. Peter was making a fishy face under
the pressure of the man’s grasp.
“What…”
“Shut up, boy and listen to what I got to say.”
“Uh…o…k…”
* * *
The rest of the morning and afternoon went off without a hitch. The Ringmaster and his dwarf
looking sidekick had Peter run various errands and do other important tasks around the park to
ensure an error proof show. Even with the encounter earlier in the day, Peter was enjoying himself
now more than ever. The skeleton guy’s words kept lurching back into Peter’s mind, but he tried to
keep them at bay by staying busy and focusing on his ultimate dream, one that he was now living.
“Just tell me you didn’t sign anything,” slurred the guy’s words, in Peter’s head.
“Of course I did,” Peter had replied.
A look of fright and sorrow had rushed across the skeleton guy’s face with Peter’s words.
“Then you are doomed…just like I and the one’s before us.”
The word he used, US, for some reason was still bothering Peter, though he couldn’t figure out
why.
Peter worked the rest of the day getting ready for the opening of the last day of the circus.
* * *
“Welcome, friends,” boomed the Ringmaster’s voice into a microphone, “I’m so happy you all
have joined us on this special night.”
The crowd under the Big Top was going crazy. There were old and young alike in the stands.
Kids were running unattended as they always did up and down the aisles, while some parents gave
chase. Vendors were selling food and the various knickknacks that Peter had always loved so
much. If he wasn’t working for the circus right now, Peter knew he would be one of them, standing
and cheering for the upcoming show to begin.
The night was indeed special and Peter could feel the energy in the air.
For the show, Peter was given permission to watch the events from the performer’s entrance into
the Big Top. At one point during the night, Peter could have sworn he saw his parents in the
stands but then they seemingly disappeared when the crowd erupted in applause from Julie’s high
flying trapeze act. Peter wasn’t convinced it was the way she swung from seat to seat but more of
how you could see her bare buttocks under her short skirt. Either way, Peter was enjoying it and
wasn’t going to complain or tell her what the fans were probably seeing.
* * *
At what would be the beginning of the grand finale of the show, the Ringmaster walked up beside
Peter, gave a wink and strolled into the center of the largest of three giant rings that covered the
floor of the Big Top. The performers and animals that were in the middle of doing their various
tricks all stopped at once and turned towards the center of the tent.
“Ladies and Gentlemen…ladies and gentlemen…may I have your attention.”
The crowd’s volume lowered to a quiet chatter.
The Ringmaster cleared his throat and continued, “As I mentioned at the very beginning of the
show, this is a very important night. But first, I have an announcement to make. First, I would like
to thank you again for taking the time out of your busy lives and spend your hard earned money at
our circus, for that, we performers are indebted to you. Second, I would like to inform you all that I
have had the distinct pleasure of being your Ringmaster for the past two years…but my time has
come to say good-bye.”
Peter couldn’t believe his ears. The one guy that had given him a job sounded like he was going to
retire or something.
Peter’s hope of being part of the traveling circus year after year when they returned to the town of
Cape Susie was fading fast. He wiped the tear forming in the corner of his eye.
“But,” the Ringmaster continued, “I have the pleasure of welcoming in a new Ringmaster and
anointing him with this very whip.”
Anointing? Now Peter was really confused at what was going on.
The Ringmaster flicked his wrist.
The crack of the whip sounded like a shotgun going off.
Peter flinched and thought he heard his name being broadcasted over the loudspeakers on the
inside of the Big Top.
Nah, there’s no way…
“Peter…Peter Smallwood...please come forward,” boomed the voice.
A bright spotlight highlighted where Peter was hiding by the entrance flaps to the tent.
Peter blinked his eyes a few times, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.
“Peter, please join me in the center of the ring,” boomed the voice, again.
The crowd exploded into shouts of encouragement and applause as Peter ducked out from behind
the tent flap and hesitantly made his way into the center of the circus and onto his dream.
* * *
As the crowd dissipated and left the circus grounds, Peter followed Samuel back to the white
trailer. They chatted on and off about the ins and outs about being a successful Ringmaster but
nothing too serious. Samuel said he wanted to wait for some privacy to explain it all. As they
walked, Peter had to adjust the large, black top hat on his head but he made it back without tripping
over anything and breaking his neck. In his left hand, he gripped a black, braided whip.
Closing the door behind them, Samuel asked Peter if he wanted a beer or something to drink.
Peter replied with, “Sure, a beer sounds great.” Even though Peter had never had a drop of
alcohol in his life, he wanted to sound mature especially now with all that was probably expected of
him.
Grabbing the can of Schlitz from Samuel, Peter popped the top and took a quick gulp. The foamy
liquid was bitter but tasted great. He took another sip and set the can on a fold out card
table/dinning room table that was standing next to the fold out cot he had slept in the night before.
“So, what questions are swirling around in that head of yours, Peter?”
“Honestly, I have no idea…uhm…I am not sure I truly understand what even happened today. I
mean, I get up and feel good, have breakfast, get attacked by some creepy dude, work my butt off
and now all this…I am sort at a loss for words, ya know.”
“Yeah, I remember my initiation too…probably felt the same way you do now.”
“But…how…what…I mean, I know you knew that I wanted to be part of the circus and all from my
application and interview and such, but I never in a million years thought I would BE the circus, ya
know.”
“Oh, I know…believe me, I know.”
“So, how did you know that I wanted to…”
“Son, everyone that comes to a circus has dreams about being part of it. It’s just that not
everyone has the balls or brains to reach out and take the bull…”
“I’m not really following you, Samuel.”
“WE saw YOU, Peter. Year after year, you would come to the circus and would always be in the
front row. Your parents too, they looked like they were fans, which is why we contacted them a
few months ago and told them our plans.”
“But, but…my parents never said anything to me…in fact, they tried to keep me from coming this
weekend.”
“We know that, Peter. Your parents were against the whole ordeal. Which is why they probably
thought they could keep you from coming to the circus this weekend by grounding you…we all see
how well that played out,” chuckled Samuel.
“But, what if I wasn’t able to get away and come here…what would have become of my dreams.”
“Oh, I don’t think there is any reason to think there wouldn’t have been a way to get you out of your
parent’s house to make all this happen. Hell, I was all of eighteen when I started with the circus
and my parents were against it too at the time, but we have a work around for things like that.”
“A work around,” asked Peter.
“Kill’em,” said Samuel, in a matter-of-fact sort of way.
“Damn.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“So, I take it that is what happened to your parents…wait, how old are you anyway.”
As Peter asked the question, Samuel’s clothes began to get loose around his normally full mid
section.
Peter rubbed his tired eyes to tighten up his vision.
“I’m twenty years old to the day.”
“Wait…what…you don’t look…”
“Looks can be deceiving, Peter.”
“But, you look more like fifty or something.”
“Yes, this is true...I do look older…what can I say…circus life isn’t easy.”
Samuel’s clothes were now so large that he looked like he was swimming in them. He reached
down and started to unbutton his red coat and white shirt.
After removing them, he took off his black boots and balloon pants.
“Well…guess these are yours now…doesn’t look like I could wear them any longer even if I had
to,” laughed Samuel, tossing the clothes to Peter.
“What in the world…”
Peter remembered the conversation he had first heard between Samuel and the little thing in the
tent. He also had fresh in his mind the words of the skeleton man this morning.
Peter was beginning to put the puzzle pieces into place. How someone is hired into the
Ringmaster position for 2-years and then must give up their roll. Over time the person will age and
shrink down…down to the little thing he saw a few nights ago. Sure, Peter wanted to lose weight
and be part of the circus but he didn’t think signing on the dotted line of a contract would mean this.
The hell with it, Peter said to himself, this is what I have always wanted…not going to back out
now, probably couldn’t even if I wanted to…I did sign the contract. Damn. I guess this is what
they say about always reading the fine print…
“From the look on your face, I can see you are starting to get it,” muttered Samuel, as he stood
up, walked to the door, opened it and strolled out into the chilly fall air.
In the distance, Peter could hear his workers beginning to tear down the Big Top.
They would be on the road soon enough, traveling to the next town where Peter would begin his
dream job of being…
The Ringmaster.
| The Ringmaster |
| October 2009 |
| Fiction |
| Copyright 2009 by Ty Schwamberger |
