Trouble With Bricks 3

Chapter Three – Trouble at the Circus

         For years now, Suzie had awakened Cleotus in all sorts of vile and disgusting manners because she either delighted in torturing him or because she was incredible bored. Perhaps a combination of the two.
         Usually, Cleotus would be brought back from the depths of dreamland to find his pants smeared with jello, a mosquito taped to the side of his face, or, and this was one of Suzie’s favorites, with his shirt set on fire. So, it came as really no shock for Cleotus to awaken half in and half out of a strange tent, an internal organ with arms and legs kicking him in the stomach and a halibut sticking out of his mouth. Actually, this one was sane compared to some of the ways he had woken in the past.
         At first, he couldn’t remember quite where he was. Whether this was the result of an old football injury or simply because his brain didn’t automatically kick in after a prolonged period of being on standby, Cleotus didn’t quite know. He did know one thing, though, and that was that the organ kicking him in the stomach was seriously getting on his nerves.
         “Cut it out!” Cleotus cried as he backhanded Frank’s Colon , sending it flying over the campsite and into the nearby woods. Lazily, he rose up, and absently scratched himself like a bear just coming out of hibernation, or some kind of nation.
         As he looked around the campsite, he noticed his sister sitting next to some sort of dwarf. The dwarf was crying and blowing its nose furiously onto its own sleeve as Suzie attempted to look uncomfortable.
         “Hey, Suz,” Cleotus began, “what’s going on?”
         Suzie took the opportunity to get away from the little man and jumped to her feet.
         “It’s about time. I thought we’d be here forever.”
         “What do you mean?” Cleotus asked. “Where are we?”
         Suzie turned toward Frank. “That’s a good question. Where are we, Frank?”
         Frank, sensing an opportunity to monologue, crossed his legs, folded his arms against his wee chest, put on a smug grin and began to weave a tale of mystery and revenge.
         “Well, now,” said Frank, “you have fallen into The Land of The Misbegotten Woe, or as residents around here call it, Smellyburg. Just over that ridge to your left flows the Great River of Lard. Some say that the Great River cuts through the entire land, from top to bottom, or starboard to poop deck by ship. Why, you could take the Great River of Lard all the way from The Vale of Goobers down to Wassahotamie Proper.
         “Past the River lies the mysterious and overly anxious forest of blue toupees, where deep within its borders hides the bloated Gum Gums, said to be the fiercest pastry chefs this side of the Chickpea Mountains . And on the other side of the forest lies your destination, The Kingdom of Frosty Delights, where Mr. Wilson, the magical accountant calls home.”
         “That sounds complicated,” remarked Suzie, “Do you have a map?”
         “As a matter of fact I do,” answered Frank, as he reached again into his front pocket of wholly unidentifiable origins, and pulled out a large flat rock, covered in childlike scribbles. “I made it myself.”
         “Oh, great,” said Suzie, “This should be worth something.”
         As Frank brought the rock nearer, Suzie and Cleotus bent forward, only knocking their heads together once.
         “Now here,” Frank pointed out as his quivering finger traced along what looked like upside down letter v’s, “this is the Great Chickpea Mountain Range. And do you see this here?”
         “The moss?” Suzie questioned.
         “No, on the other side of the moss,” answered Frank. “This dark patch that looks like dirt. That’s the Blue Toupees Forest .”
         Suddenly, Cleotus pointed at a part of the rock that was labeled with a large skull and cross bones and the word “Death” in big, black lettering.
         “What’s this part?” Cleotus asked.
         “Uh, you don’t want to go there.” Frank attempted to change the subject, thinking that if he went quickly enough Cleotus may forget he asked the question. “Now, over here…”
         But Cleotus was not so easily daunted. “Is it a good place to go to? Do they have ice cream there?”
         Frank gave Cleotus a look he usually reserved for animals that were big and dangerous but could also be dizzy or mentally disturbed. “No,” Frank began slowly, like a choo choo coming out of the station, “usually a skull and crossbones is a bad thing. In this case, it’s a very bad thing. That whole area is the Naughty Zone, ruled over by the insane smooth jazz player, Bricks.”
         “Why do they call him Bricks?” Suzie questioned.
         “It’s what he beats people with,” Frank answered.
         “Well that’s terrible,” remarked Cleotus, absently scratching himself.
         “I didn’t say it was the feel good story of the year,” Frank countered. “Look, if we get the chance, and we may, there is no way that we’re going anywhere near the Naughty Zone. You don’t want to go there. You don’t ever want to go there. Not now. Not no how.”
         “Okay, we get it,” answered Suzie. “So, are we ready or what? I’d like to get a move on while we still have daylight.”
         “Just let me get my stuff tidied up and we’ll move on out,” replied Frank joyfully, as he rose up and began to pack up his stuff. As he was packing, Frank’s Colon returned, bearing with it many strange tales of adventure and woe, most of which went unheard.
         Four hours later, they were off.
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         Frank was right about one thing: the Great River of Lard was just over the ridge to the left. But nestled between them and the River, like a large mountain tick, lay a large circus, seemingly built up over night. Either that or it was the quietest circus in the world.
         Cleotus, of course, was immediately excited. “It’s a circus! It’s a circus!” He clapped his hands and danced around, like a kid at Christmas or like an amnesiac that just remembered the color green, whatever works best for you. “I wanna go. Can I? Can I? Can I?”
         “You don’t want to go to that circus, Cleotus. It’s a bad circus.” Frank said.
         “What do you mean, bad circus?” Suzie questioned.
         “That’s the Circus of Everlasting Boredom. It pops up here and there around the country and no one knows who runs it. Some say it was the last trick of the Great and Mystical Phlarynx before he left on his journey of a thousand bursting corpuscles. Others think that it was created by a mean-spirited fairy or as a joke by Bricks. Wherever it came from, it’s bad news.”
         “But it’s a circus,” mewed Cleotus, like a cat in a clothes hamper.
         “Yeah,” agreed Suzie, “how bad can it be? Could it kill us?”
         “No,” Frank answered quickly; too quickly, if you ask me. “But it’s really annoying and a complete waste of time. I’ve know people who wandered in there and when they came out later, they were really unhappy. They acted just like someone who was forced to watch sponges migrate, if you know what I mean.”
         Cleotus took this opportunity to run down the hill, screaming, “Circus! Circus!” He only tripped over three rocks.
         Frank looked over at his Colon , which was currently rolling its eyes. “So,” he asked Suzie, “I guess we’re going to the circus?”
         “Looks like it,” she agreed. And they headed down the hill after Cleotus.
         Frank’s Colon stayed up on top of the ridge for a moment after they had left, plotting on how to take out Cleotus and make it look like an accident.
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         The Circus of Everlasting Boredom was actually created by Bricks, the evil jazz player and leader of the Foofarillos. He designed the circus to spy out the land for him. Being an evil dictator, Bricks was always interested in what type of folks were dumb enough to actually enter a circus called the Circus of Everlasting Boredom. Those were the kind of people that would make good future minions.
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         Cleotus, of course, didn’t know or care who had designed the circus nor would he have cared if someone had attempted to take the time to explain it to him. When Cleotus got a thought in his head it would take the Jaws of Life to get it back out again.
         As he ran toward the circus, fell, then got back up again, he noticed that although this circus had all the right elements, the big tents, the flipping banners and the strong aroma of elephant dung, certain elements were way off. For instance, there were no bright colors. Every little article from the tents to the banners were a mottled gray color.
In addition, this circus was deathly quiet. Usually, circuses were big, noisy affairs, where kids laughed and threw up cotton candy, animals made funny noises, and acrobats tried to sell you rubber bands. But this circus had none of those familiar sounds. The only sound running through this circus was a funny creaking noise, like the one a fat man would make if he attempted to ride on a small red wagon down a water slide.
         But, these thoughts went immediately through one side of Cleotus’ brain and out the other. It wasn’t a very long trip.
         He burst onto the main thoroughfare and headed straight toward the first attraction, which was oddly named “Stinky Shoes”. In the place of the usual carny, dressed in overalls and smelling of cheap aftershave, was a large blank screen. As soon as Cleotus approached the screen lit up with the following message:
GOOD AFTERNOON SIR AND WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS OF EVERLASTING BOREDOM. HOW MAY I ASSIST YOU?
         Cautiously, Cleotus approached the screen and said, “Uh, yeah. I guess I’d like to go into Stinky Shoes.”
         The screen took a moment to register and then flashed the next ominous words:
SIR, CAN YOU SPEAK DIRECTLY INTO THE MICROPHONE AND ATTEMPT TO ENUNCIATE BETTER?
         Cleotus looked around until he located the microphone at the top of the screen and repeated his question loudly and slowly, like he was trying to communicate with someone who spoke a different language. After a moment, the screen responded.
AH, GOOD CHOICE, SIR. IF YOU WOULD JUST CARE TO APPROACH THE DOOR AT YOUR RIGHT, YOU ARE FREE TO ENTER AND EXPERIENCE THE WONDER OF STINKY SHOES.
         Cleotus reached up and spoke directly into the microphone again. “Did you say it was free?”
THAT IS CORRECT, SIR. ALL ATTRACTIONS AND RIDES AT THE CIRCUS OF EVERLASTING BOREDOM ARE FREE. EVEN THE FOOD IS FREE. TAKE ALL YOU WANT, BUT EAT ALL YOU TAKE.
         “Oh, okay then,” answered Cleotus, confused, but always eager for a free meal.
         When Cleotus hesitated for a moment, the screen flashed:
JUST GO ALREADY!
         Cleotus turned and entered the door to the Stink Shoes Ride. Once inside, Cleotus first noticed the strange looking cart inside. But being the simple-minded oaf that he was, he swung open the door and hunkered inside. Once seated, the cart magically began its ride.
         Afterwards, Cleotus explained to Suzie that the ride wasn’t especially exciting or even scary but was more like a supreme inconvenience. The cart swung around cardboard cut-outs of generic terrain, while shoes dropped randomly from the ceiling on wires. The shoes would inevitably smell bad and then they would just as mysteriously raise up again.
         Near the end of the ride, a cardboard cut-out of a pixie popped out from behind a cardboard bush and a pre-recorded message exclaimed, “Stinky the elf says that all bad children will endure his stinky shoes forever. If you would like to not smell the shoes again either do not ride this ride or enlist in the army of Bricks. Go Bricks!”
         Then the cart stopped at the entrance and Cleotus got out. He ran across Suzie and Frank as they were wandering the main midway. All around them, screens yelled out strange and arcane phrases, such as “PLAY COUNT THE HAIR” or “RIDE THE LAZY STREAM OF BACTERIA”. Almost none seemed very enticing, but Cleotus found himself still drawn to almost every available booth.
         At the game “Count the Hair” Cleotus was required to unravel a ball of human hair and count all the hairs. When he finished, several hours later, he had guessed the correct amount of hair. As far as the Carnival was concerned, if he guessed any answer, he was a winner. For his prize, Cleotus won the ball of hair, which he placed in his front shirt pocket for later.
         After Cleotus, Suzie and Frank wandered away to another gruesome attraction, Frank’s Colon stayed behind, entranced, as only a colon can be entranced, by the games.
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         Several hours later, Cleotus, Suzie and Frank sat down at a rickety picnic table and sampled the fares of the circus, which consisted mainly of cold vegetables and warm water.
         “Alright Cleotus,” began Suzie, “you’ve had your fun and now it’s time to hit the road.”
         Cleotus, who really didn’t have any fun, replied, “But I haven’t tried the last attraction yet. I still want to see what’s in the House of Meat. Maybe it’s something cool.”
         “Yeah, or maybe it’s just as boring as everything else.” Suzie countered.
         “Hey, look folks,” started Frank, “I don’t want to be a spoiled sport, but this is the most excitement I’ve seen in twenty years. We can hang out here for the rest of the week if you want.”
         It was at that moment when Frank’s Colon wandered up to the table, over laden with a gaggle of hard won prizes from the midway. Carefully, it laid a packet of staples, three slices of very old corned beef, a signed photo of Bricks, a wad of pre-chewed bubble gum, a rock shaped like the head of Bricks, or so it was told, two stuffed handkerchiefs, and one very annoying bat, whose name was Spim. Frank’s Colon ate the bat.
         “Well, here we are,” summed up Frank, who then began to twiddle his thumbs, whistle and make very loud swallowing noises.
         Suzie turned to Cleotus. “Alright, let’s get this over with. You want the House of Meat, then go get the House of Meat. But just get it done so we can get out of here.”
         Cleotus, no longer with a gleeful look in his eye, staggered away from the table and headed toward the fabled House of Meat, which rested at the end of the Fairway.
         If the witch who had enticed Hansel and Gretel had made her house out of meat instead of gingerbread, it would have looked like this one. Its windows were cleverly shaped like sausage patties. The pillars at the front of the house were made out of sausage links and the roof was covered in shredded hamburger.
         It would have been quaint if it wasn’t for the fact that whoever had designed it had made it out of meat and not just wood cleverly designed to look like meat. Thus, it smelled like several tons of beef laid out on the side of the road for a few days.
Cleotus had to shake off his gag reflex in order to enter. But enter he did.
         There wasn’t much to the inside of the House of Meat besides shelves and shelves of meat, uncleverly displayed, and meat by-products placed on paper plates. There were meatloaves shaped like rocks, a three-legged fish and one shaped sort of like a dog, if you looked out of the corner of your eye and tugged on your left ear. There was a pillar at one end of the room with a mound of ground beef thrown on the top, which the placard identified as “Ground Beef ala Dryad”, whatever that meant.
         When Cleotus could take the boredom and smell of old meat no longer, he turned to go. Suddenly, a slight movement caught his eye.
         Could the meatloaf shaped like the dog have moved or was it just the meat fumes going to his head? Cleotus wondered at the possibilities. Before he had too much time to wonder, however, another movement from the meatloaf dog caught his eye. Yes, it had definitely wagged its tail. Cautiously, but not too cautiously, after all this was a dog made of meatloaf, Cleotus approached.
         “Hello?” Cleotus asked warily, which would have been fine, except for two things: one, he was talking to meat and two, he was talking to a dog. Neither the meat or the dog should have been able to understand him.
         But this was an enchanted world, as Frank’s Colon is proof, and the dog, upon hearing Cleotus, sat up, turned towards Cleotus and spoke in a faint British accent for some reason.
         “Good day, guv’nor.”
         “Hey,” remarked Cleotus, “you can talk.” For pointing out the obvious, there was no one like Cleotus.
         “That’s right, guv’nor.” The Meat Dog replied, extending a paw. “My name’s Flippy. Flippy the Meat Dog, at your service.”
         Through habit, Cleotus reached up to shake hands with the dog, accidentally ripping off the extended appendage. “Whoops,” he offered.
         Flippy was not so easily daunted. “That’s alright, guv’nor. I can grow another one, I can.”
         And Flippy the Meat Dog proceeded to grow a new paw, which was an entirely disgusting process and one that will never be shared. Suffice to say, he had four paws again when it was done.
         “There, see now guv’nor. All’s well indeed.”
         Cleotus, who usually had to be prodded to produce manners, came up with a few on his own this time. “It’s good to meet you Flippy. My name’s Cleotus.”
         “Quite a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Cleotus. Now, if you could do me a favor and lower me to the ground, I would sincerely appreciate it.”
         Cleotus, who was always ready to do a good deed when pushed, obligingly lowered the dog onto the floor, where it proceeded to rise on its two back legs and do a little dance.
         “Hoo wee,” Flippy squealed in delight, “I’m free. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Gottoa love me! Oh, yeah.”
         After a few minutes, Cleotus got tired of watching the dancing meat dog spectacle and turned to go.
         “Wait up, there guv’nor,” said Flippy. “Where are you off to now?”
         “Oh,” replied Cleoptus, “my sister’s waiting outside with Frank and Frank’s Colon and we’re off to see Mr. Wilson the magical accountant. Hopefully, he’ll send us home again on account of this green fairy cursed us and sent us here.”
         “Here now, guv’nor that must be quite a story. It must. Why don’t you tell Flippy alls about it?”
         “Okay,” agreed Cleotus, “But let’s get out of this smelly place first.”
         “I don’t smell a thing, guv’nor.” Flippy answered, but followed Cleotus out the door before it shut him in.
         Once outside, Flippy sniffed the bountiful air. “My word, guv’nor. It does smell different out here. Why, I feel like a whole new meat dog, I do.”
         Jauntily, they returned to where Suzie, Frank, and Frank’s Colon sat basking in the sun.
         Frank, alarmed, sat up and pointed immediately at the meat dog. “Cleotus, watch out!” Frank shouted. “There’s something following you.”
         “Igot it!” Frank’s Colon shouted as it lobbed a bubble gum covered rock, and managed to strike Cleotus in the head, knocking him over.
         “Here now, gov’nor,” explained Flippy, “I won’t harm anyone. I’m just innocent old Flippy the Meat Dog.”
         “You don’t look so innocent to me,” remarked Suzie.
         “I agree,” added Frank. “Anything made out of meat is suspicious, I say.”
         “Oi,” whined Flippy, as it did some tricks, like 3 card monty and guess who’s gonna get punched now. “I won’t hurt no one, I won’t. I’m made out of three kinds of sausage, so’s I can’t be all that bad.”
         Slowly, Cleotus rose to his feet, with a welt on his head the size of Mount Rushmore . “It’s okay. Flippy’s with me.”
         Frank’s Colon immediately wadded up the slices of corned beef and prepared to throw them.
         “No, wait.” Frank said. “It could be on the level.”
         Frank’s Colon reluctantly lowered its throwing arm. And I mean reluctantly.
         “Look,” pleaded Flippy, “can I come with you? I’ve been trapped in this circus for the last five years. And then when Dopey here came along and set me free, I got me a new lease on life. Maybe that Mr. Wilson can help me as well.”
         Suzie looked angrily at Cleotus. “Good job, blabber mouth. How much else did you tell him?”
         Cleotus shrugged and Frank’s Colon let fly with the corned beef, which splattered across Cleotus’ forehead, knocking him down again.
         “Well, speak up, Flippy,” said Frank. “How do you think Mr. Wilson can help you?”
         “Well, guv’nor, if he really is magical, then maybe he can reverse my curse. I wasn’t always a meat dog. Once, a long time ago, I was made out of manure.”
         “And you want him to turn you back into poop?” Suzie questioned.
         “Heck no, guv’nor.” Flippy replied. “But I wouldn’t mind being a real dog.”
         “Oh, well that’s okay then,” answered Frank. “Maybe Mr. Wilson can help you too.”
         “Well, whatever,” said Suzie. “Let’s just get out of here.”
         And off they went, leaving the Circus of Eternal Boredom far behind as they headed toward the Great River of Lard and other places beyond.
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         After the company had left, a single pigeon, made of spam, was released toward the kingdom of the evil jazz musician Bricks. The message simply stated, “You need to check this one out.”