The Feet of God

80 - IT GETS COMPLICATED

Damn.  I’m itching like crazy all over.  I begun to scratch my belly when Mr. Harry swatted my hand.  “Don’t do that.  You’ll make your colors run.”

“But it itches so bad,” I complained.

“Oh look,” Mr. Harry quickly changed the subject.  “Here come the Kennedy Sisters.”  He gave me an elbow nudge and a sly wink.

Damn, damn, damn.  I wanted to meet these two beautiful girls and make a good impression.  But I wasn’t sure what they’d think, seeing me near naked like this, and made up like a gross reptile with a loose sheet tied round its neck.  The only thing I could think of was to stare at my feet, and try to be invisible.

“Hello, ladies!”  Stumppo shouted out in his loud voice.

“Stumppyyyy,” a siren female voice answered back.

“Do you have to be so common?” another female voice sounded disapproving.

“Don’t try and tell me how to be, Cathy,” the first voice protested.

“Just watch it, Patti, is all I’m saying,” the second voice sniffed.

“Ladies, ladies…” Stumppo tried to intervene in the sisterly dispute.  But the women accelerated their bickering like they was ready to strike with hairbrushes.

I heard Stumppo step in between the quarreling two.  “Ladies, ladies!  No fighting, please.  We can discuss this later in private.  Now, I want to introduce you to our latest attraction.  Behold, I present, Lizard Man.”

Both women responded with one voice, “Hello.”

I couldn’t raise my head to face them, I just kept layin’ real low, staring at the ground where they stood.  Then I noticed something extremely weird.  Both sisters was standing there, but I only saw one set of shoes.  So I raised my eyes just a little, and I saw a skirt, and a blouse…and finally, I worked up the nerve to look right at them straight on.  I nearly fainted.

Standing in front of me was a two-headed lady.

Now I tried to keep from staring, and I didn’t wanna be rude and draw any unwanted attention to their apparent disability.  I forced a smile.  “I’m Scaly.  Pleased to make your acquaintances,” I gave a small wave of my hand in acknowledgment.

The Kennedy Sisters was both good-looking, maybe even beautiful by most standards, but in very different ways.  One had a perfect head of platinum blonde hair neatly brushed back.  The other one had her hair arranged in rainbow-colored cornrows coiled tight around her crown.  Two faces on two distinct heads sitting atop one pair of shoulders and a shared body smiled at me.  They waved both hands.  “My name’s Cathy,” the blonde head on the left said.  “I’m Patti,” said the corn-rowed head on the right.

Stumppo cleared his throat.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he grandly reminded us with a sweeping gesture and a bow, “dinner awaits.”  Not that I needed any reminding with my stomach’s constant churning.  The four of us (or was it five?) set off for the dining tent.

Mr. Harry touched my elbow and whispered, “Aren’t they a pair?  Biggest act in the show, those two.  But they’re different as day and night.  Cathy is the more sophisticated one.  Been around the world a couple of times.  Some college.  But Patti’s just a party girl at heart.  Everyone knows Patti gets Cathy drunk until she passes out, just before Stumppo comes calling.  Yeah, he keeps telling Cathy he really loves her, but he’s two-timing her with Patti.”

I wasn’t sure how this was possible.  Or even remotely any of my business.  But I was determined to get something to eat first, before attempting to ponder on any of the implications.

After a short walk we entered the freak show’s cavernous mess tent.  The food line was populated with some of the people I’d already met, and at least two dozen or more folks in costumes that I hadn’t met, some of whom looked completely normal, leaving me to wonder what their special talents might be and what horrors was hidden under all those capes and feathers and shiny beads.

Off at a table by themselves I noticed a bunch of guys.  Regular guys, just normal men, in blue jeans.  Eating from simple lunch pails, laughin’, and having a good ol’ time.

“Who are they?” I asked Mr. Harry out of curiosity.

“Oh.  Those are just hired hands.  Not talent.  Guys who drive trucks, haul tents, load and offload scenery, and suchlike.  They don’t mix much with the performers.  Sort of an unspoken rule.”

Mr. Harry put his hand on my arm.  Come on, let’s grab something to eat and go over where Bobo the Magnificent is.  He bills himself as the world’s most hysterical clown.  I’ll introduce you.”

I hate clowns.  And I’m not the only one.

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