Clowning Around

“Don’t use that shitty sponge on me. I told you before I can’t fuckin’ stand it. Use the cloth, damn it all. Why do I fuckin’ have ta repeat meself alla time?”

The man wiggled and squirmed in his seat as the woman dabbed makeup onto his face. She grabbed his shoulders and held him still, as a mother might do an irritated child. “Just stay still for one friggin’ minute, will ya? Why do you have to be so damned difficult alla time?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult, I’m an artiste and I’m supposed to be finicky. Doncha know anything?” He picked up a battered coffee mug from a crowded table in front of them, which included a standing mirror. He raised the mug to his reflection, winked at the woman and took a big sip of the contents.

“Aw, jeez, Pete, don’t make me laugh. You’re not an artiste; you’re a friggin’ joke waiting for a punch line.” She winked back at him and smiled.

“Careful, Missy, or else I’ll give you a fuckin’ punch line right across your rib cage.” His growl didn’t fool her, though.

“Oh, you’re a miserable old sod, you are. I don’t know why I put up with you?” She giggled nonetheless and continued applying makeup to the man’s face.

The man grinned lecherously and grabbed at his crotch. “Because this matches my huge feet and you love every inch of it.” He cackled at her feigned shocked expression and went to take another sip from his cup.

She put her hands to the cup and eased it back to the table. “Hey, go easy, Pete. You know what Reggie said if he catches you drunk again?”

“Ah fuck him. He wouldn’t dare get ridda me. I’m a fixture in this place. I remember when he was nothing but a nipper with sawdust in his eyes. I remember when the only name he had was Junior. I remember when the only crack he enjoyed was a whip crack. I remember…”

Missy laughed and tutted at the same time. “Oh you do go on. He’s the boss now and you can’t do anything about it except pay him some mind.” She fussed around in the makeup box on the table. “Where’s the red? I saw it here this morning.”

“Bloody Otto’s got it, I betcha. I saw him snooping around here just after lunch. He’s always nicking stuff, the bastard. Do you want me to go see?” Otto was one of the other clowns. He and Pete hated each other.

“Nah, you’ll only start trouble. I’ll go and you just stay here, ‘kay?” She stood and stretched before heading across the large tent to the open flap.

He watched her in the mirror’s reflection. “I hate to see you go but I love watchin’ you leave,” he fired at her as she slipped through the tent flap. She flipped him the bird and then was gone. He kept watching in the mirror as he refilled his cup from a hip flask on the table. He took a big gulp directly from the bottle before putting the lid back on.

He looked at his reflection, first smiling widely then pulling a sad face. He switched between happy and sad a number of times. His face settled back into its neutral state. His eyes weren’t too bad, certainly nothing a little Visine wouldn’t fix. Reggie would check them too. Why he couldn’t smell the rum on his breath, though, was something else. Pete knew Reggie’s dad loved the rum too so maybe Reggie was so used to it he didn’t smell it on him.

“Hey Pete, have you seen Missy?”

He looked in the mirror at the man of his thoughts standing in the doorway. “Nah, Junior, not since she walked out the door two minutes ago.” He cackled at his little joke. The boss, however, was not amused.

“Listen, Pete, I’ve told you before; call me Reggie or boss, but I am no longer Junior.”

“Aw, but you’ll always be Junior to me. I remember when you were so young you couldn’t even open a flap by yourself.” Pete guffawed at his little double entendre.

“But I’m not that kid anymore and I would appreciate it if you’d remember it. Dad is long gone and I’m the boss now.” Pete could hear Reggie’s voice going up in pitch. It always did when he got upset.

“Ah, I know, Reggie, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m just having a little fun, you know. I’m a clown, remember.”

“Oh, I know, Pete, in so many ways you’re a clown. I just wish you’d save it for the ring, if you get my drift.” Reggie didn’t wait for a reply but just turned and walked out. Pete could hear him bellowing at a roustabout before the tent flap stopped moving.

Pete made a face in the mirror. “Little cunt, who the fuckin’ hell does he think he is?” He shook his head, remembering he shouldn’t say those things aloud. Reggie might not be able to smell the rum but he could hear a cricket fart a mile away. Pete lit a cigarette, finished off the dregs in the cup and was about to open the bottle again when Missy appeared, looking a little pissy herself.

She didn’t wait for him to ask what was bugging her but dove straight in.

“What is Reggie’s problem? I’m running around trying to find Otto and Reggie starts bellowing at me about that Russian bitch’s costume needing to fixin‘. She acts like she is the star of the show now, little cow.”

Pete giggled a little at her insults. “Oh, c’mon girl, don’t tell me you’re jealous of her?”

Missy made to clip him under his ear. He grimaced, but only for effect. “She’s a deviant little bitch who acts like a bloody diva. And the only reason all you blokes like her is because of what she can do.”

“Ah well, you got me there, Missy. I’ve never been to bed with a contortionist, but for her, I’ll make an exception. In fact, I’d bend over backwards to help her out, if she asked.” He laughed as his joke, looking in the mirror to see if Missy was laughing with him. But she wasn’t. In fact, she looked hurt. “Aw, c’mon, Missy, I was only joking. You know I would never do the dirty on you.”

Missy pouted slightly then grabbed him by the shoulders. She looked in the mirror, into his eyes and went all serious. “I know you Pete. I know you love me, in your own way. But you’d hump the leg of a table if you thought it looked at you the right way. And you know what; I don’t expect you to be any other way. But please don’t ever give me up for a bitch like that, okay? I don’t know how I’d take it or what I’d do.”

“Missy, have you looked at me. That bendy bitch has all the trapeze boys hanging around her. I could never compete with that crew. They’re all too fucking fit and good looking. Besides, I don’t want her. I have all I want standing behind me.”

Missy looked a little appeased. “S’nice of you to say that, Pete but I know you. You’re like any bloke I’ve ever known. She would only have to make the offer and you’d be naked and flat on your back before she could blink.”

They both went silent for a minute, lost in their own thoughts. Missy broke their reverie. “So, let’s get your makeup finished. You better get up to the gate before Reggie starts peaking again. It’s about opening time.”

“Aw, fuck, is it? All this talk of rooting has got me a little horny, Missy. What say we skip the opening and I’ll see what I can open of yours?” Pete wiggled his eyebrows comically and Missy giggled and smacked him good-naturedly on his thigh. He looked at her, then at her hand. “A little higher and not as hard, please.” Missy burst out laughing before pulling a red makeup stick from her pocket and waving it at him like a weapon.

“Behave yourself or you can do your own bloody makeup.” She held him by the chin and twisted his face to her; then began applying red makeup around his mouth. He crossed his heart and did his best to look innocent.

***

The line at the gate looked disappointingly short. Pete danced around them anyway, doing some of the simple schtick; confetti filled bucket and pulling a long handkerchief from his pants. He was trying to entertain them enough that they’d buy a ticket to the main show tonight.

As soon as the gates opened, though, most headed for the sideshows; the rides, the prize concessions and the junk food stands. He could hear the spruikers yelling over the top of each other, trying to attract some dough followed by the music from different rides.

“We’re never gonna clear the cost with this lot.” This comment came from Buddy, the tout in the ticket booth.

“How many’d we sell for tonight?” Pete asked, but knowing he wouldn’t like the answer by the expression on Buddy’s face.

“We sold a grand total of fourteen tickets. And half of those were kid’s prices. We’re never going to make enough out of this town. Fuck, we may as well close up now and save the gennie fuel. It is fuckin’ sad.” Buddy whined on about the death of ‘hard workin’ men like hisself’, about the economy and about how politicians were killing the average bloke.

Pete half listened, making noises when he thought he should. He awkwardly shifted from one foot to another, watching out for any more townies turning up at the gate.

An hour later, about two dozen more had come through the gates. All of these ignored Pete and headed straight for the sideshows as well. He decided he’d done enough gambolling to satisfy a thousand townies. He pulled out a milk crate from behind the ticket booth, sat down and lit a cigarette. Just as he leant back and blew out the first drag, Reggie appeared.

He was dressed in his full Ring Master costume, hat and all. “Ah, fuck, Pete, what the hell are you doing?” He did not sound even slightly happy.

“I’m havin’ a smoke, Junior. I’ve been on me feet for the last 2 fuckin’ hours and we only sold fourteen damn tickets to tonight’s show. This fuckin’ town is dead.”

Reggie shot him a lot that would make the roustabouts sweat. Pete wasn’t phased in the slightest and batted it away like it was an annoying fly. Reggie just about exploded. “Right, that is it. You are out of here, you dickhead. It is no wonder the show is going under when I have to deal with lazy buggers like you all the time. You go pack your flamin’ bags and get your hopeless arse out of my circus.” Pete didn’t even blink.

Reggie went on to describe Pete’s shortcomings in no uncertain terms, his voice rising in pitch as he got more and more angry. But Pete had stopped listening. He continued to smoke his cigarette and ignore Reggie until the man said something that particularly interested him.

Pete looked up at the red-faced man. “What the fuck did you just say, Junior?”

“Oh, so you are listening now, are you? I said I’ll wipe that fucking smirk off your face.”

Pete couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing. He laughed until tears squirted from his eyes and ran down his face, streaking his makeup. “Junior, you have just made my fuckin’ day. No, hold on, you’ve made my fuckin’ year. I’m not smirking. I’m a fuckin’ clown, you idiot. The smirk is all makeup.” He continued laughing until Reggie kicked the milk crate out from under him. Pete crashed to the ground but couldn’t stop laughing.

“Get up, Pete. Get up, you bastard and I’ll knock you down again. C’mon, get on your fuckin’ feet.”

Pete lay on the ground, holding his splitting sides. “Oh, Junior, stop making me laugh. I can’t breath.” Reggie did something then Pete was not expecting. He hauled back and kicked him in the stomach, not full strength but enough to wind him. He lay on the ground clutching his stomach.

Reggie stepped back, took off the hat and handed it to a startled-looking Buddy, who’d come out of the booth. Then he bounced around like a boxer before a prize-fight. “C’mon, ya dickhead, say something smart now?”

It took Pete a few good minutes to recover. By this time, a bit of a crowd had gathered around the pair. A young bloke, one of the townies, was on his mobile phone, describing the action. Another was using his phone to film the incident.

Pete stood up, still holding his stomach. Reggie bounced towards him, fists up and ducking and weaving. Despite his sore stomach, Pete felt himself laughing again at how ludicrous Reggie looked. In response, Reggie popped out a left jab that caught Pete a glancing blow off his shoulder. Pete was staggered. It looked as though Reggie wasn’t going to back down this time.

A few of the rousties and some of the performers had now gathered around as well. Pete looked around at them, shrugged and, ever the showman, did a funny quick step that looked all the more ridiculous because of his oversized shoes. Reggie moved in to have another poke but Pete was ready and lashed out with a wild roundhouse punch whapped Reggie above his left ear. The gathering oohed and winced at the noise.

Reggie stopped bouncing around and held a hand up to his ear. He looked like he was about to cry. Pete mimicked Reggie, then skipped around him, playing to the crowd. Without warning, Reggie charged and tackled him to the ground. Pete went down hard, knocking the wind out of himself again. Reggie then set off a hail of badly aimed punches. One, however, caught Pete a beauty on the chin. He was now officially pissed off.

He threw Reggie off, rolled onto his knees and threw a devastating punch at his back, right between his shoulder blades. Again, the crowd oohed. Reggie first gagged, then gasped and retched at the same time. He stood slowly and turned to Pete, who was still on his knees.

He threw a punch that came from at least five feet behind. Pete saw it coming but his injured body was slow to react. The punch caught him in the centre of his chest and threw him back in the dirt. That was when Missy stepped in.

“Okay youse two, that is enough. Stop it before one of ya gets really hurt.” She sounded furious and stamped on the ground to enforce her point. Pete lay on the ground gasping while Reggie turned to look at her.

One of the townies booed and another yelled out. “Let ‘em go, love. I’ll put up $20 on the clown if anyone wants to have a bet.” There was laughter and a murmur around the crowd. But a number of people yelled out different bets with more taking them up.

Missy looked and could see a whole lot more people standing around now. Most of the performers were there, as were a lot more of the rousties and concessioneers. But there were also a good number of townies now too. As Missy looked, a few more carloads pulled up in a cloud of noise and dust.

Missy stopped for a second, as if she was processing something. Then she gathered herself, spread her legs wide, put her hands on her hips and said in a clear, loud voice, “Folks, if you want to see the rest of the show, make sure you get tickets for tonight. Roll up, roll up, see the Bunko the Clown and the Ring Leader go head to head in a no-holds barred fight to the finish. Get you tickets at the booth right over there.”

She pointed across the heads to the bright yellow booth. A surge of townies converged on it. Buddy yelped and pushed his way through the throng. “’Scuse me, folks, let me in and we’ll get you all sorted straightaway.”

Both Pete and Reggies stopped eyeing each other up and looked at Missy. Pete’s was a utterly shocked look while Reggie’s was one of pure greed. He shook his head and smiled widely. “Missy, you’re a flamin’ genius.”

He brushed as much of the dust and dirt off himself as he could, all the while shaking his head in disbelief. He strode across to where Pete was still lying in the dirt and whispered “What do you think, you bastard, are you up for it?”

Pete thought for second. “Any fuckin’ chance to have a proper go at you, Junior.” They both looked back at Missy. She smiled broadly and addressed the crowd again.

“And folks, we will also have a preliminary bout featuring Danika the Contortionist against myself, Missy Star the Bearded Lady, along with some wonderful traditional attractions.” Both townies and roustabouts gave an appreciative cry. She looked at both men and raised her eyebrows. They looked at each other then back at the still smiling woman. All three burst out laughing simultaneously.