I lifted up on my elbows to take a look around and get my bearings, but my view was obscured by something stuck on my nose. Further inspection revealed a round bulbous protuberance was indeed stuck to my nose. Undeterred by this odd discovery, I swung my legs over the side of the bed; or attempted to swing my legs over the side of the bed. The activity was hampered by some heavy weight attached to my feet. I bent forward for further inspection and bonked my forehead on a very large shoe which I grabbed with both hands and started tugging at. All efforts to remove it failed.
“It's no use. They won't come off.”
I looked up to ask the obvious question and batted at the thing stuck to my nose to get it out of my line of sight. Pain shot straight to my brain.
“What's going on? Where am I?”
“You're in the circus now, my lovely dear. You've been conscripted.”
“Uh uh, No. No. No. I'm going home. Help me up.”
"Don't make me use this." He was holding a large bucket in his tiny little hands and brown water sloshed over the rim.
"You will take these ridiculous shoes off me and you will do it this instant! You can't do anything to me. Why you're nothing but a tiny little dwarfy short person! You dwarfy little short person! Help me up!"
“No can do. You're in the circus now. And a lovely little clown you do make, if I say so me self. Can you tumble or produce a rabbit out of a hat? If you can, perhaps we won't shoot you out of the cannon. Oh yes, escaping that would be lovely. Lovely indeed.”
As he strolled out of the tent he sang this song, "Diddle de doo, diddle de do, look at me I've got youooo..."
I can not tumble or produce a rabbit out of a hat. I can not run very fast in clown shoes, at least not fast enough to run away from the circus. I can not remove my clown nose, or my Little Orphan Anny wig from my head either.
I can be shot out of a cannon. It would have been lovely indeed if this were not so.
Every evening I scan the crowd hoping my husband will be there, come to rescue me.
Every evening I practice producing a rabbit out of a hat.
Every evening I get a little better at tumbling in clown shoes.
Today I laughed for the first time since I was conscripted into the circus. I laughed because tonight someone else is being shot out of the cannon.
He's a smallish man and will fit nicely into it. He will make quite a sight as his blue and yellow clown self flys through the air.
Tomorrow, I'll try to remember my name. It may take all day, but I'm gonna try. I overheard some of the others talking and they said if you remember your name you can go home. One of 'em said it's happened. Said they saw it with their own eyes. Dropped off the trapeze, walked into the crowd and left with 'em!
People names, people names. Bobo, lassie – no that's a dog name. Trigger – cow – or goat maybe. Trigger, trigger. Trigger is
a
horse!
Trigger is a horse!
People names.
People names.
Marsha, melissa, corey, carl, mark, paul, wally, orange, purple, shawn, kara, pink, bobo...
Haven't had much time for people name thinkin' lately. Too busy being shot out of the cannon.
Rats, that new bobo learns fast – he'll be doing tumblin' again tonight. I'd have bad things to say about that new bobo – If I could remember 'em.
“So, bobo, what did you do before you got conscripted to the circus?”
Bobo gave me the same blank look I got when I tried to remember my name. Then he said, “I am an accountant.” And just like that, his nose fell off. Hit the dirt and rolled almost a foot. Then he reached down and pulled off one of his shoes. Then the other one. “My name is Dave, and I'm an accountant.”
I feel like crying, cause Dave the Accountant just turned around and walked off. Now I've got to do the the tumbling AND get shot out of the cannon.
