They Aren't Funny pt 3

With most of the people still in the big top, the midway was relatively clear. The young evening sky had a slight pink hue, promising another beautiful sunset. Some of the booths were already closed in preparation for tomorrow's tear down and move on routine, a routine many of the circus workers had known all their lives. The cotton candy booth was still open, drawing a short line of people vying for their last bit of the puffy treat for who knew how long. The lady with the pink hair looked up and waved at Randy and Binks as they walked past.

“Are we going to try to sneak a look at the freaks?” Binks asked, looking at the line of tents now partially hidden in shadows. That was the last thing Randy wanted to do and was happy to see the look of relief on Binks' face when he told him it was getting too late.

“You know I'd like to,” Randy said, “but it's starting to get dark and our parents would kill us if they found out what we've been doing.” Randy looked back at the freak tents. The platform along their entrances stood empty. The tent's openings hung open and dark like the gaping mouths of huge canvas corpses. He felt his heart jump when he saw something moving, slithering, just beyond the loose flap of the tent housing Snake Boy. He was just about to challenge Binks to a race to the exit when Binks yelled out.

“No way! Check it out.” Binks pointed about ten feet in front of them where among the sawdust and crumpled candy wrappers, a fifty dollar bill lay on the ground shuddering restlessly against the wind. Randy looked at Binks with wide eyes then they both looked around, sure the owner of this spectacular find would be right behind them ready to tell them 'Excuse me boys, but I seemed to have dropped something' but no one was even looking their way. The closest person was man, dressed so much like Baldo it was scary, rummaging through a trashcan. If he had had the red face, Randy would have sworn it was actually him.

They started toward the fifty, wanting to run, but afraid that would draw attention. When they were within reaching distance, Randy bent down to pick it up. As he did, a gust of wind rolled down the midway, picking up the fifty and sending it fluttering ahead of them. Now, not caring if they drew attention or not, both boys took off in a full run after the escaping prize.

The wind shifted, blowing across the midway instead of down it. The fifty lifted a foot off the ground and seemed to fly like a magic carpet as it dipped and looped its way between the tents. Completely forgetting about the fact it was getting late and that this distraction might very well get them caught, Randy and Binks found themselves laughing hysterically as they gave chase to what could bring them both happiness... at least for a while.

***

The wind abruptly stopped and the fifty settled to the ground in a seesawing motion. It landed at the corner of a camel colored tent under the angle of a tie down rope stretching out to a steel stake. Their laughing died along with the wind, and Randy found an unexplainable uneasiness creeping into his stomach. They stepped toward the fifty. It lay there unmoving as if it had finally given up the chase and decided to allow its own capture. This time Binks reached down to pick it up. Just before his fingers touched the thin green paper, it jumped away and skittered around the corner of the tent. Binks jerked his hand back and Randy felt his heart leap to his throat.

They looked at each other. “I say if we go around this tent and it isn't just lying right there, we forget it,” Randy said. At the sound of his own voice, Randy became intensely aware of the contrasting quiet surrounding them since the wind had stopped. It was quiet, but not silent. He could still hear canvas rippling and tent flaps snapping, which made no sense if the wind wasn't blowing.

“I'm with you,” Binks whispered back, his voice quavering. Randy didn't know if Binks felt the same sense of unease, but guessed he did.

They stepped cautiously around the tent in almost animated synchronization, subconsciously being careful to make as little noise as possible. Randy found himself wanting to reach out and take Binks' hand, but told himself he was just being stupid. Stupid and scared. He wasn't a baby, he was almost eleven. He took in a deep breath and let it escape his mouth in a slow hiss as they stepped around the steel stake and looked on the other side of the tent.

The fifty lay motionless on top of the ankle deep grass, beckoning them to come and pick it up. They took a step forward, and the bill slid across the grass making a dry scraping sound. Randy's brow creased and he squinted. It couldn't be possible they missed this before, but he could see a thin fishing line tied to the bill, pulling it along the grass. Their eyes followed its progress until it stopped ten yards in front of them. Randy felt his head start to spin and the thudding of his heart threatened to burst his eardrums. The fifty stopped just under the front bumper of the same miniature clown car they had seen roaring around the hippodrome. The car's huge bug eyes stared gleefully back at them, and as Randy watched in utter horror, a white gloved hand attached to a billowing white sleeve with a ruffled cuff, reached from under the car, plucked the fifty from the grass, then slid back out of view.

“Oh shit Randy. Oh shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“Come on Binks, let's go. Let's just turn around and get back to the midway,” Randy said putting a hand on Binks' arm. Randy's dad wasn't one of the most loving dad's on earth and babying Randy was never part of the program. There had been many times Randy had gone to his room with tears in his eyes because his dad never seemed to have time to play with him. His dad would tell him boys didn't have time to play when they should be growing into a man. Sometimes Randy even felt himself having to fight back the urge to resent or maybe even hate him. Today however, all of the toughness his father had forced into him suddenly didn't seem so bad.

***

They slowly turned around, but instead of running, they froze. Randy knew what he was seeing was impossible. It had to be. They had chased the fifty a good bit off the midway, but not this far. He could just make out the lights of the circus twinkling on the horizon against what had turned out to be a blood red sunset. The flags fluttering on the big top were barely visible at what seemed like a mile away. And the tents... there looked to be hundreds, maybe thousands of them between where they stood and midway.

“This can't be real,” Binks breathed.

Randy couldn't answer. His mind fought with his eyes as they sent impossible images to his brain. Suddenly, a figure carrying something that shined in the last rays of the sun darted between two tents twenty yards in front of them. This time, Randy did grab Binks' hand.

Something that sounded like a rubber ball bouncing off the clown car made them both spin around. Nothing was there but the white car with its grotesque red ears. The grass moved and the canvas of the tents rippled against a silent, unfelt wind adding to the surreal atmosphere closing in around them. Randy felt the skeletal hand of terror tickle his spine, wanting to wrap its probing fingers around it and paralyze him with fear. He squeezed his eyes shut. No, please don't let me get scared- don't let me be a baby. Using all his will, he pried at the bony fingers of fear. He felt its grip first loosen, then fall away, but knew it lurked in the inner recess of his mind, waiting... waiting for him to let his guard down, even if only for a second.

“Come on,” Randy said. They turned and ran toward the distant lights. Binks, being the slower of the two, started to drop back and Randy pulled him forward. “You have to stay with me Binks.”

“I'm trying,” Binks said in a shaky voice.

Tents flashed by on both sides of them. Randy caught movement in the corner of his eye and looked to his left. A row over, and easily keeping pace with them, the Baker ran through the grass, ratcheting his rolling pin at them in a hammering motion, his oversized shoes making thumping sounds with each step.

“Randy.” Binks squeezed Randy's hand and nodded to the right where the Butcher jogged along, grinning and slashing his cleaver through the air in sharp arches. The unnatural acoustics allowed Randy to hear the slicing sounds the cleaver made cutting through the air.

“I know, just keep running.” Looking in front of them, Randy suddenly felt hope surge through him. Five tents up, the dim glow of a light spilled from an open flap. “That tent up there with the light.” Binks looked and nodded. “There may be someone in there that can help us.”

“But what if there isn't? What if-”

“We don't have any choice.” Randy let loose of Binks' hand and cut to the right. He prayed he was right as he ran into the tent, but knew instantly this was at least one prayer unanswered. On the far side of the tent, lounging in something like an oversized couch, the goat woman lay stretched out, stroking Baldo's red shiny head. Baldo's head was resting below her flabby arm, and Randy felt his stomach roll when he realized he was suckling on one of her four sagging teats. The Candlestick Maker stood at her other side, grinning at Randy while tickling the underside of her double chin with the wick of his candlestick. She giggled, an 'ah ah ah ah ah' sound like what you would expect from a goat, which caused her chins and the scraggly beard to jiggle. Her rectangular pupils glinted in the flicker of the kerosene lanterns hanging from the wooden poles supporting the tent's canvas top.

Randy reached a hand back to Binks, but felt nothing. “Binks?” Randy turned around. Binks was gone. “Binks!”

They Aren't Funny pt. 2

“No way,” Binks breathed, pointing toward the center of the big top where several camels were being led around by animal trainers. “People are riding them.”

Randy could hardly believe it, but Binks was right. There were people riding the camels, and they looked like normal people, not circus riders. “I wonder how they got to do that.”

After a moment, Binks pointed to a wooden easel declaring 'Camel Rides. The Best Fifty Cents You Will Ever Spend'. “I thought the freak show was the best fifty cents anyone could spend,” Binks said, rolling his eyes.

Randy laughed. “Well it doesn't matter because we don't have another fifty cents anyway. Come on, let's get closer.”

They worked their way around the crowds of people, skirting some and bumping others earning themselves a 'Hey watch out' and 'Slow down' from some of the adults. Randy and Binks paid no attention; they had much bigger things on their minds.

“Look,” Randy said pointing to several empty front row chairs near the center of the large performing ring. “Can you believe it?” They ran to the seats, nearly knocking a bag of popcorn from the arms of a large woman wearing a white dress with blue flowers.

“You little brats better watch what you're doing,” the large woman yelled after them, regaining her grip on the popcorn. She held the paper bag to her mouth, and using her tongue like an anteater, snagging a fat yellow kernel from the top.

“Sorry,” Randy said over his shoulder, but never slowed. They reached the seats and practically dove into them before anyone else could take advantage of their miracle. To Randy and Binks, finding open front row seats at the circus was like an old prospector finding baseball sized chunk of gold in a mountain stream. Randy couldn't believe how great things were going. He drew in a deep breath, savoring smells some might think offensive. Things just couldn't get any better.

The show soon started and both boys sat mesmerized by the acrobatic feats of the Bambino family and the daring stunts of the high wire and trapeze performers. Randy was glad Binks' mom was wrong about someone falling from the high wire and splattering into the sawdust right before their very eyes, and he couldn't deny the apprehension he felt as the elephants ran around the rings, tails in trunks. The lions and tigers proved to be as exciting as they had hoped and Randy almost closed his eyes when The Great Charlie Bell actually stuck his head in the open mouth of a lion.

“Holy crap! Did you see that?” Binks asked, looking at Randy. His eyes were wide with wonderment, yet painted around the edges with a touch of apprehension.

“Heck yes I saw it. It could have bitten his head off with one bite.” Randy felt his heart thumping with exhilaration. In the rings, the lion tamers cracked their whips and the lions obediently ran into their cages.

“I wonder what's next,” Binks asked as they watched the lion cages being rolled out of the rings while The Great Charlie Bell and his family all bowed to the wild applause of the crowd. As if in answer to his question, a loud bang sounded from one corner of the tent causing them to jump from their seats.

The spotlight flashed on, illuminating a miniature white car with large goggling eyes attached to the hood and flapping red ears mounted to the two side doors. Another bang belched from the tailpipe followed by a puff of thick blue smoke, as the car sputtered and popped its way into the large outer ring the announcer referred to as the hippodrome. The car roared around the hippodrome, circling the performing ring, and kicking sawdust into the air. On its second lap, it whipped into the opening where the lion cages were rolled out and skidded to a stop in the center of the ring. A huge bang, the loudest one yet, threw flames from the tailpipe and received wild yells and cheers from the audience.

Randy and Binks looked at each other and frowned. Neither boy was particularly fond of clowns. Randy's nightmare of the white faced clown doll his aunt gave him for his birthday (why anyone would ever get a boy a clown doll for his birthday Randy never knew) jumping from his closet and chewing his throat out while he slept, still woke him up near screams.

“Ladies and gentlemen...” The announcer's voice boomed through the tent. “Please focus your attention to the center ring so I can introduce you to-” The passenger door to the car flew open and a clown wearing a white paper hat and cloth apron covered with dark red stains, jumped out waving what had to be a rubber meat cleaver, but looked all too real to Randy. “The Butcher...” Another clown jumped out waving a large wooded rolling pin in the air. He wore a white chef's hat, puffy white shirt, and matching pants. “The Baker...” Another clown climbed from the car. This one wore nondescript brown leather pants and old fashion sleeping cap with a pink fuzzy ball hanging from its tip. He stood beside the car and looked to be blowing his large red nose when he magically produced a two foot candle from his right nostril. “The Candlestick Maker.” The crowd roared with approval as the Candlestick Maker swung his candlestick through the air then jabbed it into the back of the Baker.

“Were not done yet folks,” the announcer said.

Randy leaned over to Binks. “There is no way all those clowns can be coming out of that car. It's barely big enough to hold one clown, let alone four.” Binks looked at Randy, but said nothing. Another clown climbed out of the passenger door, at which the other three clowns quickly gave chase, all waving their respective accessories menacingly in the air. This clown's face and bald head were completely covered in red paint giving him the appearance of having just suffered an extensive head wound. His shirt and pants were hobo tattered and hobo worn.

“Waldo Baldoooo,” the announcer said, drawing out the 'o' in Baldo. The clowns ran circles around the car to the laughs, hoots, and hollers of the crowd. Baldo was rounding the front of the car and heading to the back when the driver's door flew open, smashing into him and knocking him to the ground. More cheers and applause erupted from the crowd as yet another clown somehow unfolded himself from the driver's seat. This clown was a good six inches taller than the rest and was suited up in a classic clown white jump suit donning baseball sized red puff balls. Small silver bells dangling from his frilled collar flashed in the glare of the spotlight. His cone shaped hat stayed securely in place as he took a deep bow ending with the puff ball on the tip touching the sawdust covered ground. “And last, but not least, Timmy the Ticket.” Three more spotlights swept in, focusing on Ticket as he stood up. He lifted both hands in the air, shooting out long streams of red paper tickets from his billowing sleeves.

“Hey,” Binks gasped, grabbing Randy's arm. “That's the guy that gave us our entry tickets.” But Randy didn't need Binks to tell him that. He knew from the second Timmy the Ticket emerged from the car. The thick white makeup covering his face and beard, which was now braided into a neat cord sporting a red ribbon tied at the end, did change his appearance, but not so much to fool Randy. Red triangles accentuated Ticket's black eyes and even from fifty feet away, Randy could see the way too many teeth gleaming in the spotlight's beam. He felt Ticket's eyes on him and his stomach tightened as he watched him flashing his cannibal's grin while red tickets floated down around him like confetti. “Randy, did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

“That's the last guy I would expect to be a clown,” Binks said with a growing look of dismay.

In the center ring, the Butcher, Baker, and Candlestick Maker were all giving Baldo a good beating while he rolled around on the ground trying to avoid their blows. Lowering his arms, Ticket turned to the other clowns. He reached up and squeezed the red ball attached to his nose creating an amplified honking sound. At the sound of the honk, all three clowns stopped whacking Baldo and stood at military like attention, resting their props on their shoulders like weapons. Baldo jumped to his feet, swaying and rubbing his back until Ticket slapped him across the face with a white gloved hand, resulting in Baldo straightening to attention with the other three. The crowd bellowed its approval prompting Ticket to take another bow.

Five minutes into the act, Binks leaned over to Randy and said, “They aren't funny.” Randy nodded his head in silent agreement. No, there was nothing funny about these clowns, nothing at all. A juggling act had commenced in front of them. Ticket circled the other four clowns who were juggling bowling pins, occasionally tossing one to their right where the recipient clown deftly caught it and added it to his own.

Ticket stopped in front of Baldo who was looking up, watching his pins. Ticket looked at the crowd, giving them an exaggerated wink, then promptly jabbed Baldo in eyes with a two fingered eye poke. Baldo yelped and threw a hand to his face. Four of the five juggling pins dropped on his head in successive blows at which a cymbal sounded with each hit. Baldo fell over backwards in time for the fifth pin to drop down like a bomb, hitting him square in the crotch. People howled with laughter. Randy felt something like disgust crawl up his throat and wondered how they could find any of this funny. Something else was crawling on him. He didn't know if was fear or something worse, but he did know he wished he had listened to his mom and dad and never set foot at this circus.

Randy and Binks sat through the rest of the clown show enduring among other things, Butcher backhanding Baker in the face with his meat cleaver drawing a spray of blood; Candlestick Maker swinging his candlestick like a baseball bat, drilling Butcher in the back of the head and sending him face first onto the wooden ring; and Ticket nearly running all of them down with the clown car.

Finally, the clowns all disappeared back into the car with supernatural ease, and it sputtered and banged its way out of the big top giving way to the show's intermission. The crowd stood to its feet, screaming and yelling for more. It was as if the clown show turned the crowd into more of a mob than a gathering of friendly spectators. Randy shuddered, thinking of Mr. Peas' history class where Mr. Peas told them how the crowds in the ancient coliseums fell into what he called a 'blood lust' while watching the Christians being disemboweled by lions.

“You ready to go,” Randy said, standing up. The atmosphere in the big top felt thick and dangerous to a point where Randy could almost feel its poisonous air sticking to his skin.

“You know it,” Binks said jumping to his feet. “I don't want to take a chance those stupid clowns will come back out, plus, it's gonna get dark in about an hour and it will take us that long to get home.”

They walked out of the big top, leaving the peanut eating mob to their own devices. A warm breeze had picked up sending empty popcorn bags and napkins tumbling down the midway in front of them. Randy observed his shadow stretching long and dark and felt the prickle of goose bumps crawling up his arms at the thought of being at this circus after dark.

They Aren't Funny pt. 1

Randy McCombs and Mark Binkus were normally good kids, so sneaking off to the circus when they were supposed to be fishing at Snyder Creek felt like nothing short of international espionage. The Kohl Brothers Circus just finished a show in Wichita Falls last week and announced the next stop on their 1956 world tour would be Ripley Oklahoma, a small town about half way between Oklahoma City and Tulsa where the Cheyenne Short Line made a rail stop. When Randy first heard the circus was coming to Ripley, he couldn't ask his mom and dad fast enough if he could go.

***

“Now Randy, you know the circus is much too dangerous a place for a ten year old boy.” Helen McCombs wasn't one to say yes to anything at first, unless of course it was 'Mom can I do my homework' or 'Mom, can I help you clean up the kitchen', so getting permission to go to the circus would take a major effort. Helen put the clean dish she had been drying into the drain rack and picked another one from the warm sudsy water in the sink.

“Come on mom. I'm almost eleven and I'll take Binks with me so I won't be alone.” Almost everyone referred to Mark Binkus as Binks, although some of the kids at school added their own flair as in 'Binks stinks' or 'Come on Binky gnaw my winky', but more times than not, it was used it in the affectionate way nicknames were meant. Randy was only nine months older than Binks, but being more mature and about six inches taller, grew to think of Binks as a little brother.

“I'm sure Binks' mom will tell him the same thing I'm telling you.” She tussled Randy's brown, wavy hair with a damp hand.

"Don't,” Randy said, grimacing and stepping back.

“The circus is full of nothing but crooks, freaks, and con men,” Randy's dad proclaimed from behind the Ripley Gazette.

Trying to ignore his dad's proclamation, Randy pressed on. “But they have animals. Elephants, zebras, and even tigers.” Randy thought this would surely impress them into an about-face, after all, not even parents could resist the idea of seeing a real live tiger, but his mom only shook her head and his dad continued to read the paper.

Randy's mom put down her dish towel and looked at him. “I hear they are cruel to the animals Randy, and I've also heard the elephants are half crazy and are known to stampede the crowd.”

Stampede the crowd? Things were getting worse instead of better. “They have the elephants on chains, and how do you know they are cruel to the animals?” Randy asked, hoping to salvage any chance for a 'Yes' that may be left.

“You're not going,” Randy's dad said from behind the paper.

“But dad-”

Randy's dad put down the paper and glared at him. It was a glare Randy had seen before, a glare honed by serving four years in World War II, and Randy knew better than to stand against it. “You are not going and that's the end of it.” He stared at him a moment longer, apparently to make sure there were no more arguments, and then snapped the paper back up as if to emphasize the finality of his answer.

***

That was almost a week ago and with the circus packing up and heading to Springfield Missouri in the morning, Randy and Binks knew today was their last chance. It was late Saturday afternoon and unseasonably warm for the first week of October. Both boys wore jeans and nondescript white tee-shirts sporting various stains from the day's earlier activities. The sun still showed bright, but promised to fall below the horizon at precisely 6:58 PM. As long as they both got home before full dark, they figured they could get away with the big circus sneak off.

Even before Randy and Binks crested the hill on county road 113, they could hear the sounds of the circus. The classic pipe organ music, an amplified voice announcing the next show in the big top, distant laughter, shouts of excitement, and something else.

“Did you hear that?” Binks asked excitedly. He tossed aside the grasshopper he had been carrying and looked at Randy.

“Hear what?” Randy looked back at Binks with eyes almost as wide. The excitement built with each step and Randy even thought he caught the smell cotton candy riding the warm October wind.

“I think it was a tiger.”

“No way,” Randy said, raising his eyebrows and straining to hear for himself. “How do you know it wasn't a lion or a bear?” Just the thought it could be any of the three made Randy's heart beat a little faster.

“Because of the way it roared.” Both boys stopped and looked at each other. “Bears don't roar... do they?” Binks asked, a little less confident than he had been before.

“I don't know. I don't think they do.” They both stood where they were for a moment longer, contemplating what noise bears really made, then started back up the hill.

“Well, whatever it was, roared, so I at least know it wasn't an elephant. They trumpet.” Binks said this as if he were the world's authority of animal sounds.

“Speaking of elephants, my mom told me I couldn't go because the elephants will go crazy and stomp me to death.”

Binks laughed. “Yeah, my mom told me that in every show someone falls off the high wire and dies right before everyone's eyes.”

“What is it with moms anyway? They always think the worst is going to happen even when-” Randy stopped in mid sentence as they crested the hill. Red and white tops of the huge tents spread out before them like a mirage. A faint haze of dirt and sawdust hung near the ground, flowing and shifting with the breeze. Towering above the milling crowds, someone who must have been on stilts walked in long exaggerated steps. Randy and Binks looked at each other, then without saying a word, took off in a full sprint.

***

They stopped in front of a small white tent where a rough looking bald man with dark, bloodshot eyes sat selling tickets. His long black beard concealed most of his features, but not his aura of unfriendliness. Randy didn't like the man's eyes, not because they were bloodshot, it was something else. They reminded him of the picture of the shark he saw in his mom and dad's National Geographic magazine. Its round black eyes staring from the thin shiny pages while grinning its hungry grin as if it knew it would someday sink its triangular teeth into his flesh.

Three people stood in front of them and the last of the three looked like someone they both knew. “I've seen her before,” Binks whispered. He wiped away a small bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face.

“That's Mrs. Bitterman from our church,” Randy whispered back.

As if she heard the whispering, Mrs. Bitterman glanced over her shoulder and looked at Randy and Binks. Both boys immediately looked down, as if the dust on their sneakers had suddenly became a concern. A slight crease developed in her brow, like she was trying to place them, but thankfully the rough looking man in the small tent gave her an impatient 'Next', which caused her to turn around. She handed the man her fifty cents and walked into the crowd, never looking back.

“That was close,” Randy said, quickly stepping up to the tent to avoid having the rough man yell at him too. He handed up a crumpled dollar bill to cover Binks and himself, which the man unceremoniously grabbed from his hand while pushing two tickets to the edge of the wooden shelf attached to the tent. The man looked down at them and smiled. Randy could see a large number of small white teeth nested in the scraggily beard surrounding the man's mouth. They looked like broken porcelain in a bird's nest.

“You boys have fun, and maybe I'll see you later.” The rough looking bald man with the scraggly beard grinned at them. There was nothing nice in his wish for them to have fun, and the 'Maybe I'll see you later' sounded like a threat.

Randy took the tickets off the shelf as quickly as he could, being careful to avoid touching the man's hand. Then they practically ran around the small tent, not saying a word until they were out of hear shot.

“Man, that guy was creepy,” Binks said, looking over his shoulder. “What do you think he meant by maybe I'll see you later?”

“I don't know. He was probably just messing with us,” Randy said, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn't want Binks to know how badly the man had scared him. He thought of the small white teeth and how it looked like there were way too many packed in the man's mouth. Randy and Binks jumped back as a child of about three ran past squealing hysterically, quickly followed by a woman yelling for Jonnie to come back here right this instant. Shaking off the weird feeling, Randy decided it was all just a result of his feeling guilty about lying to his mom and dad. “Let's just forget about that guy and get some cotton candy.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Binks said, his eyes brightening.

They stopped in front of the cotton candy stand and starting digging into their pockets for a nickel. The lady working the counter had hair almost as pink as the cotton candy and was much friendlier than the man at the admission tent. Wearing a genuine smile, she handed them each a white paper tube covered with threads of sugar magically spun in the large silver tub inside the booth. She told them both to have a good time at the circus, and then turned her attention to a rather large lady who had been standing behind them.

Walking away from the cotton candy stand, Randy pulled off a large wad of the pink cotton and pushed it into his mouth marveling at how quickly it melted into almost nothing. Pushing in another piece, he watched as people milled about, talking and pointing at the various attractions. The smell of sawdust laced with the underlying smell of animal droppings, which Randy would later wonder if he had actually smelled tiger crap, hung in the air.

On their right, a series of large tents lined both sides of the midway, ending at the big top where the main attraction played out. A large sign hung above a series of tents fronted by a raised platform constructed to prevent anyone from seeing in from the ground. The bright red and yellow words painted on the sign read 'You Have to See It to Believe It. 'Snake Boy' 'Rubber Man' 'Goat Woman' 'World's Fattest Man'.

Binks having already consumed his entire tube of cotton candy wiped his hand over the front of his shirt, adding one more artistic stain to the canvas of the day's adventures. “Whoa,” Binks said, staring at the sign. “Snake Boy? Goat Woman? Let's check it out.” Binks headed in the direction of the long platform where ten or fifteen people, some pointing and some whispering in the person's ear beside them, were making their way down the row of tents.

“Wait a minute,” Randy said, grabbing Binks' arm. “It cost fifty cents.” He pointed toward a small wooden structure displaying a sign that read 'The best fifty cents you will ever spend'. “If we do that, we won't have enough money for the big top show, and besides, we might be able to sneak a look through the back of the tents later.” Randy held his voice down as he said this and looked over his shoulder, not wanting to admit it, but sure he would see the strange man with the way too many teeth smile standing right behind them.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry. Step right up folks, because the main show is about to start.” The announcer's voice rolled down the midway and across the open fields. Both boys looked toward the big top. Small red and white flags snapped soundlessly on the huge tent's peaks.

“Yeah, you're right. The animals will be in the big top anyway,” Binks said, tossing down his cotton candy tube. “Let's go.”

They hurried past the freak show tents, weaving in and out of the crowd as they made their way to the big top. Randy glanced at the billboard by the tent housing the goat woman. It depicted a large woman with at least two chins and was the ugliest woman Randy had ever seen. A thin wiry beard hung from her square chin, large thick horns protruded from the sides of her head, curling back before twisting toward the front of her face. Yellow eyes with black rectangular pupils looked back at him with the same dead look as the rough man with the way too many teeth smile. Fifty cents wasn't the only reason Randy didn't want to see the freaks in those tents.

“Randy, come on. We're going to miss it,” Binks yelled.

Randy blinked. He hadn't even realized he had stopped. He looked at Binks, who was waving for him to come on. Turning from the yellow eyes, Randy ran to catch up.