Bear Necessity

by James Gould-Bourn

  A chorus of boos rolled over the crowd as a bald man in his midfifties appeared on camera.

  “Good to see you, Martin,” said the host. “Love what you’ve done with your hair.”

  Martin forced a stiff-jawed smile like he’d just been puked on by somebody’s baby.

  “Anyway, without further ado, let me ask you all to give a warm welcome to our first contestant. He’s thirty-three, he’s from Sheffield, and he’s blind, but if you think that’s going to stop him from juggling chain saws, then think again! Give it up for Juggling Joe, everybody!”

  * * *

  “What’s going on out there?” asked Danny, who’d stayed behind to stretch while Krystal and Will went to watch the opening act with Ivan and Mo. “I thought I heard screaming.”

  “A guy just tried to kill the judges,” said Krystal.

  “A blind guy,” added Will.

  “With a chain saw.”

  “Four chain saws, actually.” Will wiggled four fingers.

  “He almost fell off the stage and landed on the judges’ table.”

  “Almost?” said Danny.

  “Somebody caught him just in time,” said Krystal.

  “Shame,” said Danny.

  Krystal smiled. “You’re not getting out of it that easily,” she said. “And anyway, if that’s the level of competition you’re up against, then trust me, you’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about.”

  “That’s not quite true though, is it?” came a familiar voice from outside the cubicle. Before Krystal had time to choose the right profanity for the occasion, El Magnifico appeared in the doorway, his face sporting several Band-Aids from his recent tussle with Milton. “You do have something to worry about, don’t you, Danny?” he said.

  “Like what?” said Danny.

  “I think you know.”

  Danny thought about this for a moment.

  “Global warming?” he said.

  “No,” said El Magnifico.

  “The plague?”

  “No.”

  “Wasps?”

  “No.”

  “You’re not scared of wasps?” said Danny. El Magnifico sighed.

  Will joined in. “Zombie apocalypse?”

  “Forgetting to empty your pockets before doing the laundry?” said Krystal.

  “Accidentally making eye contact with somebody on the Tube?” said Danny.

  “No!” snapped El Magnifico, growing impatient.

  “Getting stuck behind somebody in the supermarket who wants to pay for everything with coupons?” said Krystal.

  “Getting maced on your own doorstep?” said Danny.

  “Good one,” said Krystal.

  “It’s me, you fools!” yelled El Magnifico. “It’s me you’ve got to worry about! Me! El Magnifico!”

  “We do worry about you, Kevin,” said Krystal, her voice infused with faux concern. “Everybody worries about you. You’re precisely the sort of person that society worries about.”

  “Will, this is the kind of man I’m always telling you not to get into cars with,” said Danny.

  “That’s right, keep laughing,” said El Magnifico. “Enjoy yourselves while you can. I can’t wait to see how smug you all look when I go home with the prize money and you go back to your pathetic little lives.” He turned to Will. “Tell me, boy, how does it feel to have an endangered species for a father?”

  “How does it feel to have your scrotum ruptured by a size seven stiletto?” said Krystal. She took a step towards El Magnifico.

  “Now, now,” he said, taking two steps back. “There’s no need for violence. I didn’t come here to fight. I came here to wish you the best of luck tonight, actually.”

  “How very sportsmanlike of you,” said Danny drily.

  “I mean, I wouldn’t say that if you had a shot at winning, of course, but as you’ve got more chance of shitting a live pig, I figure there’s no harm in saying something generically encouraging. Anyway, I’ll leave you to practice. I’m sure you could use it. And remember, it’s not the winning that counts. It’s watching me win that really matters! Shazam!”

  He lobbed one of his smoke bombs into the cubicle and scurried away, unaware that the paper grenade had failed to activate. Everybody was still staring at it when he ran back a few seconds later, scooped up the bomb without saying a word, and ran off again.

  “That was Krystal’s ex-boyfriend,” said Danny, leaning close to Will.

  “Seriously?” said Will. Danny nodded. Will burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” said Krystal, impaling them both with her eyes.

  “Nothing,” said Danny, struggling to keep a straight face. “Absolutely nothing.”

  * * *

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said the host as he reappeared onstage clutching the microphone. “Please give a big round of applause for Elastic Emma!”

  Behind him, a young woman in a black leotard unfolded her limbs from the human knot she had somehow managed to turn herself into.

  “What did our judges make of that, then?”

  The three judges appeared on the huge television screen. Dave gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Martin nodded with approval. Sarah shrugged like she’d just been asked how she felt about human rights.

  “You know, I wish I was that flexible,” said the host, waving to Emma as she walked offstage. “My ex-wife’s more flexible than me, and she’s been dead for ten years!”

  A wave of cautious laughter passed through the crowd.

  “It’s a joke! It’s a joke, don’t worry.” He paused to allow for a couple of guilt-free chuckles. “She’s actually only been dead for five years!”

  A single cough punctuated the otherwise perfect silence.

  “Anyway, on with the show. Next up we have Gerry, short for Geraldine. Gerry likes spending time with her grandchildren and making homemade bird feeders while watching Nazi Megastructures on National Geographic. Despite being almost eighty, Gerry loves to dance. She says it keeps her young, and when you see her moves you’ll understand why, so put your hands together for Gerry, a.k.a. the break-dancing granny of Gospel Oak!”

  * * *

  Many of the performers had taken to practicing in the corridor, Danny and Will included. They tried their best to avoid the meandering plate spinners, rogue unicyclists, errant acrobats, and pirouetting ballet dancers fighting for space around them while Krystal supervised from the relative safety of the cubicle doorway.

  “Looking good, guys,” said Tim, a rolled-up cigarette hanging from his lips. “You two a double act now?”

  “I was jealous of Milton so I decided to get my own sidekick,” said Danny. He ruffled Will’s hair.

  “Sidekick?” said Will. “You’re the sidekick.”

  “Actually, you’re both my sidekicks,” said Krystal.

  “And I’m his,” said Tim, nodding at Milton. “He’s the real brains behind the operation.”

  “Want to swap him for Danny?” said Krystal.

  “I’m not sure he’d fit on my shoulder.”

  “I also don’t look good in sweaters,” said Danny.

  “Or anything really,” said Krystal.

  “Hilarious,” said Danny.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said the portly magician Danny had seen earlier. His face was red like he’d just been Heimliched, and he leaned on Tim to catch his breath. “You haven’t seen a rabbit by any chance, have you? He’s white, about this big, answers to the name of Derek. He’s got long ears and teeth and, well, he’s a rabbit.”

  “Sorry,” said Danny.

  “Only cats and pandas here,” said Krystal.

  The man sighed and wiped his face with his colorful string of handkerchiefs. Taking a blast of his asthma inhaler, he ran off in search of Derek.

  * * *

  “Let’s hear it for Gerry!” said the host. Gerry waved feebly as two paramedics took her off on a stretcher. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen break-dancing taken so literally before. That wasn’t hip-hop. T
hat was hip-POP!”

  The audience groaned.

  “Get it? Hip-pop? Whatever. Next up we’ve got a very special musical double act from Peckham. One of them is hairy and never cuts his nails, and the other one is a cat! Put your paws together for Timothy and Milton, everybody!”

  A glowing sea of smartphones rose above the crowd as Tim and Milton appeared onstage. Nobody had a free hand to clap with, but the sound of a thousand “awws” made up for the lack of applause.

  “Good evening, everybody,” said Tim, brushing his hair out of his face. “My name’s Tim and this stylish fella right here is my good friend Milton. Say hello, Milton.”

  Milton meowed into the microphone and the crowd dissolved into mush. Even Sarah smiled briefly.

  “We’re going to play you a song tonight. I hope you enjoy it. Milton chose it, actually. I’m sure you’ll understand why.”

  He strummed his guitar and the crowd began to sway as the opening bars of “What’s New Pussycat?” rang out around the park.

  * * *

  Danny and Will flinched in unison as “Uptown Funk” started blasting from Krystal’s handbag.

  “All right, you sexy bitch,” she said, pressing her phone to her ear. “What?… Great. I’ll be there in two mins.… Okay, babes. Ciao.”

  “Who was that?” said Danny.

  “El Magnifico?” said Will. Danny sniggered as they shared a high five.

  “Say that again and I’ll high-five your nose,” said Krystal. “Grab that bag of face paint and follow me, funny man.”

  “Where are you going?” said Danny.

  “Last-minute prep,” said Krystal.

  “Last-minute prep? What last-minute prep? You didn’t mention anything about last-minute prep!”

  “Don’t get your fur in a tangle,” she said. “Just stick to the plan and leave the rest to me.”

  “How can I stick to the plan if I don’t know what the plan is!”

  “You’re going to be awesome, don’t worry,” said Will as he hugged his dad. “Mum would be well proud of you. I’m well proud of you. And Krystal is well proud of you too, even though she won’t admit it.”

  “All right, you,” said Krystal, gently squeezing Will’s shoulders. “Move your arse before you make my mascara run.” She looked at Danny as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. She nodded at Will. “What he said.”

  Danny smiled and watched them go before turning his eyes towards the canvas ceiling.

  “Looks like it’s just the two of us,” he said.

  * * *

  The audience erupted as Tim took a bow, careful not to bend too low so Milton wouldn’t fall off his shoulder.

  “Thanks, everybody,” he said. “Say thank you, Milton.” Milton meowed into the microphone and everybody melted all over again.

  “How about that for a purrrfect purrrformance?” said the host.

  The crowd cheered in agreement, warming to the acts if not to the host’s crappy jokes.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’d say it’s going to take something pretty spectacular to compete with a performance like that, something really amazing like, I don’t know, a singing dog or something. But where would we find one of those? Wait a minute,” he said, moving his hand to the earpiece he wasn’t wearing and pretending to listen intently. “You’ll never guess what, folks. That’s exactly what we’ve got for you tonight! Please give a warm welcome to Jack and Daniels!”

  The crowd laughed as a giddy Jack Russell galloped across the stage and leapt onto a folding chair positioned beside a short microphone stand. His owner, Daniels, the same elderly gentleman that Danny had seen practicing earlier, shuffled out a moment later, still wearing his white T-shirt with Jack’s face printed on it but now also sporting a porkpie hat that looked like it doubled as his dog’s favorite chew toy. He grabbed the mic from the taller stand and tapped it a couple of times, then gestured to someone behind the curtain. The Spice Girls started booming from the speakers as Jack, Daniels, and everybody over the age of twenty-five sang the opening verses of “Wannabe.”

  The following act was a seven-man Japanese dance troupe who ran around the stage dressed like robots, sometimes chasing each other and sometimes being chased by a large squid monster with flashing red eyes. Next up was a Belarussian strongwoman who twisted steel rods into various shapes as if she were twisting balloons before throwing them into the crowd as gifts, a charitable gesture that was sadly offset by several minor head injuries. A unicyclist was followed by a ballet dancer, an escape artist, a sword swallower, and a mime. A bunch of Mexican acrobats called Circ du Olé spent five minutes swinging from the rigging while dressed in comically oversize sombreros, and a snake charmer from Wigan almost fainted while furiously playing his pungi until finally giving up when Fred, his Indian cobra, made it absolutely clear that he was not going to leave his basket. A teenage rap duo and a martial artist with a wooden leg came next, and they were followed by the chicken man, the nut juggler, the one-man band, and the human statue, until, with just two performances remaining, it was El Magnifico’s turn to take the stage.

  The host came out to introduce him, marching from behind the curtain with his crumpled blazer flapping open. He looked like he’d been drinking.

  “Is everybody having fun?” he shouted.

  The crowd responded mostly in the affirmative.

  “I can’t hear you!” he yelled, a little belligerently, as if he actually hadn’t heard them and hated asking the same question twice. “I said, is everybody having fun!”

  People murmured in a way that suggested they’d be having a lot more fun if he stopped asking them if they were having fun.

  “That’s better! You know, I’m glad I’m not the one judging tonight’s competition, because I’d give everybody first prize. Who do you think deserves to win?”

  Everybody answered at the same time, their words fusing together to create the impression that the favorite act of the night so far was a Mexican clown charmer.

  “Well, before you decide who should be crowned Mr. or Mrs. Street Performer of the Year, hold your horses because the show isn’t over yet! We’ve got two performances left, and this next one is guaranteed to blow your mind. We don’t know his real name and we don’t know where he comes from. All we know for sure is that he’s going to show you something that may just make you question everything you’ve ever known. Without further ado, let’s hear it for El Magnifico!”

  Cheers rose up from the crowd before petering out as the stage remained empty. A nervous silence descended, while people shuffled their feet and waited for something to happen. Even the host seemed anxious, repeatedly checking his watch and exchanging uneasy glances with the organizers. He was just about to walk back out to deliver some impromptu and potentially tragic fiction about the fate of El Magnifico when every light in the venue went out. Only when a resonant voice emerged from the gloomy enclave of the stage did the audience realize that the power cut was deliberate.

  “Harry Houdini once said, ‘My brain is the key that sets my mind free,’ ” intoned El Magnifico. He let the words fade out for effect before a single spotlight revealed his presence in the middle of the stage.

  A hushed excitement rippled through the crowd.

  “But even Houdini couldn’t do what a ten-year-old Italian boy named Benedetto Supino did. While sitting in a dentist’s waiting room in 1982, little Benedetto set fire to a comic book he was reading. He didn’t use matches or a cigarette lighter. No. Benedetto Supino used his mind! And tonight, in front of your very eyes, via the power of pyrokinesis, I’m about to do the same.”

  A second spotlight beamed down in front of the stage. Sitting in the middle of the bright white light was a podium, and sitting on the podium was a stuffed panda toy.

  “Before I begin, I’d like to warn you not to try this at home,” said El Magnifico. “Due to the incredible amount of energy required for this particular feat, the human head has been known to ex
plode while attempting pyrokinesis, so not only am I about to show you something that you’ve never seen before, nor ever will again, I’m also risking my very life in the process.”

  At the mention of a possible exploding head, everybody shuffled forward. Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony began to drift over the crowd.

  Placing his fingertips on his temples, El Magnifico flexed his jaw and stared at the bear. His face began to tremble like a kettle coming to boil and he frowned so deeply that his eyebrows overlapped. A high-pitched sound emerged from his lips that caused Jack the dog to start barking backstage; but sixty seconds later the bear looked no closer to being immolated, something it seemed almost smug about as it grinned at the crowd from the giant television screen. Nobody saw Derek the rabbit lollop along the hem of the stage and disappear beneath the judges’ table, their eyes fixed firmly on the quivering magician who had now turned such a violent shade of red that several paramedics had gathered nearby.

  As one minute became two and two became three, boos rose up from the front of the crowd and rapidly spread until everybody was jeering, including the judges. Undeterred by the growing dissent, El Magnifico redoubled his efforts. He focused intently on the bear, staring at the toy as if he didn’t just want to cremate it but will it out of existence entirely. Just when he was about to be dragged away by the security staff who had appeared on either side of the stage, a huge gasp went up from the crowd as the judges’ table burst into flames. Even El Magnifico looked shocked as Martin slapped at his flaming trousers while Sarah, despite not actually being on fire, screamed and rolled around on the ground until the fire crew proceeded to blast them both with fire extinguishers. Realizing he’d actually managed to set something on fire—not the right thing, for the panda hadn’t even broken a sweat, but something—El Magnifico’s body started to tremble again, this time with fits of laughter. He didn’t notice the fire crew dragging the charred corpse of Derek the rabbit out from under the table, the electrical cable he’d unwisely chosen to snack on still firmly clamped between his blackened jaws.