by Helen Ellis
The back tent flap opened and in came the other performers. Little Miss Horse and Pony smelled like Miss Breck. Tambourine Man jingled all the way. Johnny made the introductions and Bitty Jack shook their hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Freak Boss called from outside the tent. “Step right up! Form a line and see what nature never intended! Take a look, folks! Bring the kids! Six tickets and you’ve got dinner conversation for the rest of your lives! Six tickets to see what your mothers always warned you about!”
Two minutes later, there was standing room only in a tent with no chairs.
Behind the curtain, Bitty Jack heard the crowd buzz and hush their kin. She whispered to Johnny Iguana, “What happens now?”
“We wait for introductions.”
“Sorry I’m late, guys,” a Regular said as he opened the back tent flap. He held a boom box in one hand and sat on the ground behind the curtain. He turned the volume up and pushed Play. The Freak Boss’s voice came out of the box.
Johnny said, “The boss moves around and gets people to buy tickets. He only emcees his wife’s show live and she just gives one at ten-thirty at night. You might want to watch the Regular work the tape recorder. He might get sick. You never know.”
Bitty Jack crouched beside the Regular. She watched him turn the tape off and on depending on the audience’s response. Throughout the night, she memorized each performer’s introduction and stage comments. She hosed Johnny Iguana off like she was taught, and while he was onstage, she watched his silhouette against the curtain. He moved so everyone could see.
“He had the grace of Vanna White,” Bitty Jack would later tell her father. “But not like a sissy.”
While the fair was in Summons, Bitty slept at her house, but most of her waking hours were spent at the fair. She ate breakfast with the freaks. Lunch and supper with the freaks. She spent all her free time with Johnny Iguana. If he wore jeans and a button-down, no one recognized him on the fair-grounds. When he wasn’t performing, the two of them went on rides, ate junk, played games. With all her hosing experience, Bitty Jack got real good at shooting the water gun into the clowns’ mouths. She won a big pig for Little Miss Horse and Pony. She won big pigs and pink giraffes and mediumsized bears for Camp Chickasaw’s upcoming Carnival Day. The owners told her parents that they were extremely impressed. Bitty Jack got good at most of the game booths, but refused to play Pick a Duck after the first time she tried it.
“There’s no skill involved. It’s totally boring.”
Johnny said, “Can you think of something you’d rather do?”
The Matterhorn deejay boomed, “ARE . . . YOU . . . READY?”
The safety bar secured across their laps, Bitty Jack and Johnny Iguana looked at each other while the riders screamed “Yeah!”
Johnny Iguana nudged Bitty Jack’s elbow with his own. As their seat began to creep forward, he gripped the safety bar and made his show face, like Elvis. “Uh, huh-huh!”
Bitty Jack said, “I love this so much.”
The deejay boomed, “HOW YOU FOLKS DOIN’? ARE YOU READY TO GO FASTER?”
Bitty Jack and Johnny Iguana joined the chorus. “Yeaaah!”
“I SAID, ARE YOU READY TO LOSE YO’ LUNCH?”
The riders screamed “Yeaaah!”
His eyes hidden behind sunglasses the size of Moon Pies, the deejay boomed, “WELL, ALL RIGHT! HOLD TIGHT! LET’S GET READY TO RUM-BLE!”
As the ride took off, spinning fast, faster, faster, the deejay pumped the music louder and the centrifugal force pushed Bitty Jack toward the outside of the seat. She crushed Johnny Iguana. “I’m sorry!” she yelled and tried to pull her body away from his by hand-over-handing the padded safety bar.
“HEY, HEY, HEY! I DON’T THINK YOU FOLKS ARE SCREAMING LOUD ENOUGH. I CAN’T HEAR YOU! HOW’S ABOUT I SEND YOU MOTHER-PLUCKERS BACKWARDS?”
The riders screamed “Nooo!”
Bitty Jack laughed and tried to pull her body off Johnny’s. Hand over hand. She yelled, “I’m squashing you!”
Johnny yelled, “Don’t worry about it!”
“NOW, COME, COME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WE ALL KNOW THAT NO MEANS YES! I CAN SEE IT IN YOUR EYES! LET ME ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME. DO YOU WANNA GO BACKWARDS?”
Some of the riders screamed “Nooo!” Some used that reverse psychology they had seen on TV. They screamed “Yey-yas!”
Bitty Jack screamed, “I can’t get off you!”
The deejay boomed, “BACKWARDS IT IS!!!”
Johnny screamed, “Let go! It’s okay!”
The riders screamed, “Oh my Gaaawd!!”
Bitty Jack allowed her body to cram itself into the nooks of Johnny Iguana. As the ride jerked into reverse, Bitty Jack’s hair blew across her face. She stopped worrying about hurting Johnny Iguana and hollered at the top of her lungs. Her excitement made Johnny laugh. His laugh made Bitty Jack laugh. When Johnny put his arm behind her, across the back of their seat, Bitty Jack took his hand and pulled it over her shoulder. Wrapped up in the speed and direction and her wild, messy hair and the extra warmth of his arm on that hot summer predinner daze, Bitty Jack felt what was given to her. She stroked the scales that lay under his long sleeved shirt. They felt soft. Surprise, surprise. She lay her head back against his muscle and let the tears roll out from too much laughing and making noise.
Johnny Iguana kissed her temple and, all out of words, Bitty Jack squeezed his hand. Then both of them let go of the safety bar and wrapped their arms around each other. They were quiet and shut their eyes. They got lost and dizzy in the darkness and the speed.
The deejay boomed “LOOKS LIKE WE GOT A COUPLE UH LOVEBIRDS!”
The riders went “Oooooh!”
“WHAT’S SAY WE GIVE Y’ALL AN EXTRA MINUTE ON THE MATTERHORN! SEE IF WE CAN’T THROW ’EM OFF. TEACH THOSE TWO TO HOLD ONTO THEIR SAFETY BAR!”
The crowd went wild and Bitty Jack and Johnny held their grasp, contemplated breaking every safety rule, and wished that the ride would never come to an end.
Bitty Jack was soon more than Johnny Iguana’s personal assistant. All the freaks knew it. Their summer romance was the talk of intermissions.
The night before the fair moved from Summons, Bitty Jack brought her parents to see Johnny Iguana’s show. They had been asking to meet her boyfriend. It was the appropriate thing to do.
The Freak Boss took the Carlsons into the tent personally. He made his way through the crowd. “Coming through, ladies and gentleman! VIPs, here. VIPs.”
Mr. and Mrs. Carlson smiled weakly at everyone as if apologizing for their status. They stood center stage, no heads to look over, no fitful babies to ignore. The taped voice of the Freak Boss came on behind the curtain.
Mr. Carlson whispered to his wife, “The great and powerful Oz.”
The voice behind the curtain introduced Little Miss Horse and Pony. She trotted out and the audience hushed.
Someone said, “Holy Ta-moh-lee.”
Mrs. Carlson whispered, “She has such a pretty face.”
Little Miss Horse and Pony showed off her hooves at the ends of her arms. She turned to let her tail grandiosely sweep the stage. When the audience applauded, she smiled to show her big, big top teeth. The voice behind the curtain continued to compliment her features until it sped up, scrambled, then stopped. Little Miss Horse and Pony quit smiling. She looked over her shoulder. Even though she knew that the tape recorder had eaten the tape, she hissed, “What’s wrong?”
The crowd began to murmur. Mrs. Carlson took her husband’s hand and they stood as if they were bride and groom before a tent full of witnesses who all had objections and were just there for the cake. “Where’s Bitty?” she asked.
And then, there she was. Bitty Jack parted the curtains as Little Miss Horse and Pony galloped past. Her tail slapped Bitty Jack’s bare knees and she resisted bending past her shorts to touch her skin growing redder under the spotlight. Bitty Jack said, “May I have your attention?”
Besides her parents, no o
ne paid attention.
Bitty Jack remembered the Matterhorn deejay. She boomed, “LISTEN UP, PEOPLE!”
Her parents turned to face the crowd. They helped with “Shhh!”
Bitty Jack recited the Freak Boss’s tape. She said, “Coming to the stage next, this guy is straight out of the swamp! His daddy was a crocodile. His mama was a disco queen! Please put your hands together for the one and only Johnny Iguana!”
Johnny Iguana parted the curtains and bounded onto the stage. Without the Saturday Night Fever medley, Bitty Jack did her best to go on with the show. She flipped the light switch on and off. She looked at audience members as if they’d gotten their money’s worth.
Bitty Jack heard her mother say, “Oh dear Lord.”
She saw her father wrap his arm around her, give a squeeze, then nod to Bitty to keep up the good work. As Bitty Jack spoke, she noticed the audience she’d never seen before. Behind the curtain, only Johnny’s silhouette existed. Now she saw faces and overheard snide remarks.
“That guy’s fucked up.”
“Wonder if he’s got a little lizard dick.”
“Wonder if he’s got one at all.”
“Yeah, maybe just a gill down there like a woman.”
“Gross! Shut up, I’m trying to see.”
To ease their daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Carlson put on two happy faces. Bitty Jack kept on with her speech. The audience grew rowdy. Mrs. Carlson’s eyebrows moved farther up her forehead. Her lips pressed into what looked like no lips at all.
“Show us your dick!”
“You got scales on your dick? You got lily lizard balls?”
Johnny smiled at each ticket holder personally. He pivoted. He turned. He took a bow, then walked off the stage.
Bitty Jack introduced Tambourine Man and the audience applauded. Mrs. Carlson did not. Big Jack nudged her and tried to clap for the two of them, but Mrs. Carlson could not be swayed. She tugged her husband’s arm. She said, “Let’s go.”
As Bitty Jack sang along to Tambourine Man’s homemade music, her father mouthed, “We’ll see you at home.”
Bitty Jack didn’t know why they were leaving until Mrs. Carlson looked over her shoulder and uttered the word that answered her question.
“Remember.”
And Bitty Jack did. Camp Chickasaw, Cabin 11, the day her family’s world was threatened by such catcalls. She heard the campers taunt her father. She saw Sarina Summers egging them on.
After the show, Bitty Jack picked up the hose and asked, “Is it always like this?”
“Pretty much,” said Johnny.
Bitty Jack sprayed his shoulders and stomach, his thighs to his feet. “I never knew.” She tossed him a towel. He patted himself down, then swapped the towel for his white button-down. Bitty Jack looked away while he slipped on fresh boxers, khakis, socks, and sneakers. When he put his hand on her hip, Bitty Jack turned to face him. She kept her eyes on the ground, but Johnny tilted her face toward his. “Really, it’s not that bad. It doesn’t get to me.” He drew her body close. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll buy you a Squishee.”
He did. Red cherry for her. Blue raspberry for himself. They lay down under a table in the deserted mess tent. They kissed, their lips stained the colors of clowns’.
The following morning, the fair pulled up stakes and caravanned five hours to Birmingham, Alabama. Feigning sleep in the back of the truck, Bitty Jack heard the Freak Boss counsel Johnny Iguana from the driver’s seat.
“Don’t get too attached. She’s only sixteen. You’re both too young. Your life’s on the road.”
Johnny said, “I’ve got savings.”
The Freak Boss said, “You’ll see her next year. Besides, maybe she’ll have grown some nice titties by then!”
“That’s not funny.”
“Think about it, son.”
Bitty Jack tried to breathe like she was sleeping. She could feel their eyes on her from the rearview mirror. She imagined extending her stay past the summer. Traveling to more places. Staying with him. And, of course, there was the more immediate excitement: where she would sleep when the fair closed that night.
By the time the gates opened, there was trouble in Birmingham. Food poisoning had hit employees who’d chosen beef over chicken. Half the staff was throwing up. There was something wrong with the Sloppy Joes.
Bitty Jack agreed to help out in one of the game booths and followed the Freak Boss through the crowd to Pick a Duck. A tarp covered the window. They entered through the back door to set up shop. The Freak Boss started the water flowing through the circular stream. The plastic ducks bobbed. Bitty Jack watched them float.
“Which one’s the big pig?”
The Freak Boss pulled the winning duck out of the flock with ease. He turned it over and showed off the numeral 3 scrawled with permanent Magic Marker. Number ones were snakes, which could pass for carpet samples. Twos were stuffed puppies with black plastic ears. Threes were for big pigs. There was only one three.
“How’d you do that?”
“I take it you’re not a card player.”
Bitty shook her head.
“The duck’s marked.” The Freak Boss pointed to the tail. There was the slightest chip. “Nobody looks at the tails. They all look at the heads. I’ve heard all sorts of theories. The ducks whose heads are worn clean through are small prizes. The duck with paint chipped off its nose is a mark for a big pig. There are only a few blue ducks, so obviously that’s a signal. What else? Oh yeah, my favorite.
“Some lady in Montgomery thought a pink one that got stuck against the far side of the pool was the big winner. She reached for it and fell in. She must have weighed three hundred pounds. Had her face in the water. Had her legs four feet off the ground. Thought she was drowning like a two-year-old off Rescue 911.
“ ‘Shatner!’ she kept screaming. ‘Get Will Shatner! Call 911!’
“She was flailing around like a pig in shit. Pardon my French. I had to get two strong men to pull her out. Poor ducks were stuck in every crevice of her body. Ducks in her cleavage, in the pockets of her dress. There was no courteous way I could ask for my property. I had to forfeit what must have been twenty ducks and, still, she didn’t walk away with this little beauty.” He patted the plastic duck with the chip in its tail. He set it swimming into the current.
“Someone got the whole ugly incident on camera. Won ten grand on that goddamned embarrassing video show. Beat out a slew of wedding takes.”
“Throwing up at the altar?”
“Yeah.” The Freak Boss chuckled. “I saw that one. Looking back. I wonder if that Montgomery woman staged the whole thing.”
Bitty Jack said, “No.”
“Miss Bitty, you’d be surprised at what people will do.”
Customers poked the tarp with their fingers and fists. “Brawk, brawk!” they insisted.
“They’re getting restless,” said the Freak Boss.
“But those are chicken noises.”
The Freak Boss said, “They want the ducks.
“You’ll be fine,” he continued. “Two picks for a dollar. Keep the money in this apron. One pocket for change. One for dollars. You’ll get nothing more than a fiver. When the weight gets too much, dump your change into the lockbox. Never take your eyes off the ducks. Never take your eyes off the customers.”
Bitty Jack nodded. She ran her hands over the front of her apron, the right side lumpy with quarters, nickels, and dimes.
“If you’re not comfortable calling for customers, use the blow horn. Talk normal and even your boyfriend will hear you on the other side of the fair.” He took hold of the draw string and gave it several good yanks. The tarp rose and exposed a crowd of eager duck pickers. He walked out of the booth.
Bitty Jack faced the crowd and, with every ounce of courage, said, “Who’s first?”
Twenty hands shot up in the air.
Bitty Jack picked a grandmotherly type who brazenly squawked, “Four tries!” then leaned over the counte
r to work eight quarters out of her bra.
As the night went on, Bitty Jack became more comfortable. She gave good banter. She made correct change and tossed fuzzy snakes. No one picked the big pig. No one caused a fuss. When the Freak Boss passed by, he smiled and clapped his hands. She was getting the hang of it. She could do it. She was sure.
At 11:00 P.M., Johnny showed up and snuck into the back of the booth. He sat on the floor, hidden by the counter. He stroked her bare legs which made Bitty Jack smile which made everyone think she was happy to see them. Her sales increased. It was a very good night.
Until Sarina Summers entered the picture.
She was clinging to a boy, resting her head against his shoulder. They walked straight toward Bitty Jack. Bitty Jack stiffened.
“What?” said Johnny.
“Stay down there,” she said.
Bitty Jack put the blow horn on the counter and gave a snake to the last person who tried. Now no one was at the counter and Sarina Summers and her boyfriend cut a clear path toward Pick a Duck.
Bitty Jack said, “Will we get in trouble if we close the place down?”
Johnny said, “I’ll get in trouble. You’ll get fired. Is there a drunk? Is someone fixing to start trouble?”
“I don’t know. Just, please, no matter what happens, stay down, Johnny, stay down.”
Sarina held her hands behind her back. She leaned over the pond as if trying to find room among the ducks for her reflection.
“Two for a dollar,” Bitty Jack said and waited for Sarina to look up and recognize her.
As she’d told the Freak Boss, Bitty knew she was no swan. Her beauty wasn’t storybookish: no dragon returns to find Bitty’s face morphed into a pot of gold. She still had to wear glasses. The shower was a war zone against combination skin. But she wasn’t the same girl she was at thirteen. Bitty knew she had bettered. She looked different, but not that different. In a matter of moments, Sarina’s insults could fly. You’re Big Jerk-Off’s kid! You’re nothing! You’re no one!