The Circus of Dr. Lao Page 2

  Six blocks down Main Street Larry Kamper encountered the parade. Realizing he was too early for the show, he shouldered his way through the mass of Mexicans that cluttered the curb to get a look at the procession.

  He almost laughed when he saw it. Only three frowzy little beast-drawn wagons, the first driven by an old Chinaman, the second by a pale bearded man, the last by a Jewish-looking fellow with a cap of goat horns on his head. There was a big coiled grey snake in the Chinaman's wagon, a bear in the second wagon, a green dog in the last.

  "Hey," said a man standing beside Larry, "what sort of animal is that thing pulling the first cart there?"

  Larry looked and saw a horse bearing on its forehead a long thin white horn.

  "Just some fake," said Larry. "What d'you call them things? Singlehorns? That ain't it. Monohorns? Naw . . . uh . . . unicorns? That's it. Unicorn. Fellah took a horse and made a unicorn out of it by pasting a horn on its head, I guess."

  "Yeah, but that ain't no horse like any ever what I see," said the man. "Look at thet there tail. Ever see a horse with a tail like that critter's got?"

  "Well, I don't know a hell of a lot about horses," said Larry. "I been in the infantry six years. But it ain't no unicorn; I know that, 'cause there ain't no unicorns, nor ever was."

  "Well, sir, that thing ain't a horse either," said the man. "I been boy-raised with horses, and I can tell 'em when I see 'em; and that ain't no horse."

  "I guess it's a freak of some kind then," said Larry. And he also said: "Well, Jeesis, what's that thing driving the last wagon?"

  The man looked and said: "Why, it's just a feller with some goat horns on his head. Another fake, I reckon."

  "I never seen a man like that before," said Larry. "Look at his feet."

  "What's the matter with his feet?"

  "Aw, he pulled 'em down too quick. He had 'em up on the dashboard for just a second. Had awful funny-looking shoes on, if you could call 'em shoes. Look at his face; ever see a face like that before?"

  "Sure," said the man; "hell of a lot of 'em. What's wrong with his face?"

  "I dunno," said Larry. "The whole thing's screwy, anyway. Circus parade with only three wagons! My Gawd. Hey, what's that animal in the last wagon?"

  "You got me, brother. Looks like a dog, though."

  "That ain't no dog," said Larry.

  "Well, say now, let's get together on some of this stuff," protested the man. "Which of us is cockeyed, anyway?"

  "Oh, to hell with the parade," said Larry. "I got some money. Come on, let's get a glass of beer."

  "Right," said the man.

  They went into Harry Martinez's place.

  "Two cervezas," said the man to Barkeep Harry.

  "Naw, naw," said Larry. "I just want beer."

  "That means beer out here; it's Spanish," grinned Harry.

  Larry was relieved. "Awright, then. What'dya think of the parade?"

  "I didn't think a hell of a lot of it," said Harry, "'cept that I couldn't figure why they had that man in the second cage. What was he, a wild man from Borneo or something?"

  "Man?" said Larry's companion. "I didn't see no man in a cage. There was a snake and a bear and something what looked like a dog kinda, but I didn't see no man. Did you?" he asked Larry.

  "I dunno what the hell I saw now," said Larry.

  "Well," said Harry Martinez, "I'm here to tell you that I got good eyes, an' that in the cage on the second wagon of that there parade I seen a man. He looked like a Russian or something. And what kind of an animal was that what was pulling that second wagon; tell me that, either of you."

  "I didn't rightly notice," said Larry's companion.

  "Neither did I," said Larry.

  "Well," said Harry Martinez, "I did. Did you ever hear of a sphinx?"

  "That big statue thing in Arabia?"

  "Yeah. Well, it looked like a sphinx pulling that second wagon. 'Course it was a fake. Big mule, I reckon, tricked out in a lion's hide."

  "Nope," said Larry, "I remember now. That wasn't no mule."

  "Well, what the hell was it then?" asked his friend.

  "I dunno, but it wasn't a mule, that's a cinch," said Larry, finishing his beer.

  "Two more beers," said his friend.

  "Right," said Harry Martinez.

  Mr. Etaoin, the Tribune proofreader, stepped out of the restaurant onto Main Street and saw the parade coming his way. He lit a cigarette and awaited its coming.

  When it came, he gazed at it bemusedly wondering if he saw aright. An elderly lady tapped his arm. She had a little boy with her.

  "Please, mister, can you tell us what kind of a snake that is in the wagon? Is it something they caught here in Arizona? We're just out from the East, you know, and don't know all the animals here yet."

  Mr. Etaoin regarded the reptile in the slow-moving wagon. It had no scales; only a grey slimy hide like a catfish.

  "I don't know what it is, lady," he said; "but it's not an Arizona snake, that's certain. They don't get that big out here. Matter of fact, I don't know where in the world snakes do get as big as that fellow is."

  "Maybe it's a sea serpent, grandma," said the little boy.

  "That's as good an idea as any," agreed Mr. Etaoin.

  Two business men came alongside. "Lord, but that's a big snake," said one. "Wonder what kind it is?"

  "It's a sea serpent," said the little boy.

  "It is, huh?" said the man. "Well, by George, I always heard of them things; kinda like myths, you know. But this is the first time I ever really saw one. So that's the sea serpent, huh? Well, sir, he's a monster; I'll give him credit for that. Yessir."

  The man with him said: "What's that man doing in the second cage?"

  "That's no man, Bill; that's a bear. What's wrong with your eyes?"

  "Looks like a man to me," said Bill. "What do you call it, friend?" he asked Mr. Etaoin.

  "My glasses are kinda dusty," said the proofreader, "but it looks to me like a man that walks like a bear."

  "Well, I say it's a bear what walks like a man," said the first business man facetiously. "Man that walks like a bear . . . haw, haw. That's pretty good! Where's he going to walk to in that cage? Huh?"

  "Why, it's a Russian, isn't it?" asked the old lady.

  "Good Lord, woman," said Bill, "we ain't that bad yet here in Arizona. We don't pen Russians up and put 'em on display with animals; that is, not yet we don't."

  "Here, now," said the first man to Bill; "don't talk to a lady that way. You said it was a man yourself, didn't you? What difference does it make whether it's a Russian or not? You got to excuse him, lady."

  "I don't give a damn whether it's a Russian or an Eskimo or a Democrat!" said Bill. "By God, it ain't no bear, and that's that"

  "Well, I never heard such language in all my life!" announced the old lady. "If that's western chivalry for you, the sooner I get back to Sedalia the better!"

  Mr. Etaoin, to make conversation, said: "What kind of a donkey is it pulling the last wagon?"

  "Why, it's just a common ordinary everyday good-for-nothing lousy lowdown jackass of a donkey," said Bill truculently. "I ain't going to get in no argument about him, fellah. I'm sorry, lady, for speaking the way I did. I don't feel so good this morning."

  The little boy piped up: "It's a burro, isn't it, mister?"

  "Have it your own way, lad. I don't care if it's a walrus."

  "How come it's so doggone yellow?" asked the first man.

  "It looks like it was made of gold," said the old lady brightly.

  Bill started to laugh. "Haw, haw, haw! The golden ass! The golden ass!"

  Bill's companion took his arm. "Come on, Bill; let's go. Folks are beginning to look at you funny."

  "Are people all like that in Abalone?" the old lady asked Mr. Etaoin.

  "No, not all of 'em," he apologized. "Just one or two now and then."

  The two college youths from back East came out of their hotel and climbed into their old touring car; Slick Bromiezc
hski driving, Paul Conrad Gordon giving advice: "Choke it, boy; choke hell out of it."

  The car started and they got as far as Main Street when a red light halted them. Then the parade came along and halted them some more.

  "There's the circus," said Slick. "Where's the peepshow float?"

  "Patience," said Paul Conrad. "They don't put their peepshows on parade. This is only the teaser to the main dish."

  "Sure is a hell of a parade," said Slick. "Old Chink with one foot in the grave; Christlike looking personage; and that guy made up to look like Rodin's Faun — or am I thinking of Praxiteles? Anyhow, what do you think of it, Oom Powl?"

  "Rodin's Faun!" said Paul; "that's what I was trying to think of. Afternoon of a faun. Nymphs. You know."

  "Sure. But why that particular stream of consciousness?"

  "It's the guy with the horns on his head," said Paul. "Suppose he were real?"

  "All right. I'm supposing as hard as I can. Now what?"

  "Well, good Lord, can you imagine a real honest-to-god satyr driving a gold-plated mule down the main drag of a hick town?"

  "Sure. I can imagine anything. What of it?"

  "Oh, nothing. Let's go. Time's flying. We got to get under the influence and make a test case on the circus grounds, you will recall."

  On her way to the Cash and Carry, Mrs. Howard T. Cassan was momentarily held up by the parade.

  "My, what horrid animals," she thought. "I wonder which one is the fortuneteller — which one of the men, that is."

  From a window in an upper apartment over her head a female voice called down: "Excuse me, please, but can you tell from where you are whether that's a man or a bear in the second wagon?"

  "Why, it's a bear, I believe," Mrs. Cassan called back obligingly. "Though I don't know what kind of a bear."

  "The lady on the corner says it's a bear, Joe," said the voice.

  "Bear, hell," said Joe's voice. "Don't you think I know a Russian when I see one?"

  "Well, dear me!" said Mrs. Cassan.

  The lawyer who prided himself on his extra-legal knowledge watched the parade tolerantly from his kitchen door with his wife.

  "It's sort of pitiful, isn't it?" he said. "A goofy little road show like that hanging silly disguises on animals to make them look like things out of mythology. It isn't even well done. That horse rigged up like a sphinx, for instance. Look at the fool woman's face on the thing. You can tell from here it's paper mâché or something. And those absurd breasts hanging down in front of it."

  "Now, Frank," said his wife, "don't be vulgar, please. What's that man doing in that cage, do you suppose? Is he some sort of a freak?"

  "Why, that's not a man, honey; that's a bear. Looks like a big grizzly from here."

  His wife pretended to smell his breath. "What have you been drinking, Frank, dear? Don't you credit me with enough intelligence to distinguish a man from a bear?"

  Frank looked at her in mock alarm. "I told you last week you ought to get fitted for glasses, honey. I'm going to take you down myself right after lunch and have the doctor fix you up with a triple-strong pair of lenses. A man; haw, haw, haw!"

  His wife got sore. "You make me so damn mad when you sneer that way. I mean when you laugh that sneering way. You do it on purpose. You know good and well that's a man; you're just trying to be funny."

  The lawyer looked at his wife strangely. "All right, honey," he said quietly; "it's a man. Come on; let's go in and eat."

  The telephone rang as they were sitting down. Frank answered it:

  "Hello."

  "'Lo, Frank?"

  "Yeah."

  "This is Harvey. Did you folks see the parade go by just now?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, so did Helen and I. We couldn't decide what that was in the middle cage. Did you notice? We been having quite an argument, and I thought I'd call you up to settle it. Helen claimed it was a bear in there, but I thought it was a Russian. What did you folks make it out to be?"

  "We're undecided, too," said Frank and hung up.

  Quarantine Inspector Number Two saw the parade as he leaned out of his coupé window to yell at Inspector Number One, who was ambling toward him down Main Street. Inspector Number One got in the coupé and watched with him.

  "Man, that sure is a big snake," he said. "Reminds me of that big sidewinder I killed down on the Beeswax road last spring. Thing had sixteen rattles."

  "Must've been sixteen years old then," said Inspector Number Two.

  "Oh, that's the way you tell, is it? I always figured it was something like that. What do you make of that bear there? Is he a Sonoran grizzly?"

  "I don't see no bear."

  "Well, it's right there in that second wagon, bigger'n hell."

  "You're still asleep, fellah; that's a man. Looks like a Russian."

  "Yeah? Who is it, Trotsky?"

  "I dunno who it is, but it ain't no bear. Say, look at that dog, will you! Ever see a green dog before?"

  "There's lots of things in that parade I ain't never seen before. Just how in hell do you figure that ain't a bear in the middle wagon?"

  "'Cause I seen bears and I seen men; and I can tell a man from a bear as far as I can see either of 'em; and that thing is a man and not a bear; and I'm tired of arguing about anything so damn foolish."

  "All right," said Inspector Number One. "Don't go getting hard about it. I ain't going to argue with you. What do you make of the dog?"

  "Well, it's jest about the biggest dog I ever seen, but I never seen one that color before. Look at its hide; the thing shore has rough hair. Good Lord, its teeth are green, too. Well, what kind of a dog is that, anyway?"

  "You got me. That's a nice little burro pulling the last cart."

  "That ain't no burro."

  "Well, what the hell is it, then; an elephant?"

  "Say, what's the matter with you today? You know that ain't no burro. You know burros've got hair on 'em. You know burros ain't slick like they was made of glass like that thing is. You know they don't shine that way."

  "Well, it looks like a burro."

  "Yeah. You thought that man looked like a bear, too. I don't know what's got into you today."

  "By God, that was a bear! You better pull yourself together, guy. They got a booby hatch in this state for people what gets funny notions." Inspector Number One got out of the coupé. "Don't go getting any funny notions when you're on shift tonight, or somebody's liable to get your job. I'm telling you straight, see?"

  Inspector Number Two lit a cigar. A policeman friend of his came up and jocularly cautioned him about parking too long in one spot.

  "Listen, Tom," said the inspector, "did you see that parade go by just now?"

  "Yeah, I saw the crazy thing. Hell of a big bear they had in one of the wagons."

  "Oh, Lord!" said the inspector and drove away.

  The railroad traffic officer's wife called him up at about eleven o'clock.

  "Ed," she said, "have you seen the circus parade? The children want to go over and watch it, but it's so far from the house I'm sort of afraid to let them. Is it really worth watching, do you know?"

  "Yes, I just now saw it," said Ed. "All they got is three wagons pulled by horses or something. I thought sure there'd be some trucks. I can't imagine how they got into town. I know those beasts didn't pull those wagons all the way from California or from wherever they came. No, the kids wouldn't like it, I don't believe. There's a big snake in one wagon and a wild man or something in the other and a funny-looking dog in the last. I don't think the kids would like it, really. No clowns or anything like that."

  One of his fellow-workers, listening in on the conversation, said: "Where was that wild man, Ed? I must have missed him."

  "In the middle wagon."

  "Ho, ho, ho! That wasn't no wild man; that was a big bear. Funny thing: a couple of guys out in front made the same mistake you did. Thought the bear was a man. Haw, haw, haw!"

  "Well, it surer'n hell looked like a man," said Ed.<
br />
  "You been worrying about that circus so much all morning," said the desk sergeant to the chief of police; "there goes the parade now — why don't you go out and look at it?"

  Its inertia broken by these pregnant words, practically the entire force left off lounging around the spittoons and went out on the curb by the parked Black Maria to watch the little procession go by. The old Chinaman driving the first wagon noted the uniforms and bowed to vested authority. The unicorn harnessed between the shafts noted the brass buttons, too, and flinging its icicle horn skyward, whinnied like a bugle and danced on its hind feet. The aged Chinaman flailed it with his lash, and its caperings subsided.

  "That's a high-stepping bronc he's got hooked on there," commented one of the lesser policemen. "How'd it get that horn, d'yuh reckon? Never heard of a horse having a horn before."

  "That ain't no horse," said another policeman; "that's a unicorn."

  "What's a unicorn?"

  "Why, it's something like a cross between a horse and a rhino, I guess. They come from Armenia, I believe, or some goddam place like that."

  "Oh, sure, I remember reading about them in school now when I was a kid. Ain't they awfully rare or something?"

  "Yep. Rarer than hell."

  "Man, that's a big snake in there. Wonder what it is."

  "Looks like a boa constrictor to me."

  "Nope," said one of the motorcycle patrolmen, "it ain't a boa constrictor. It's an anaconda from South America. Teddy Roosevelt caught one when he was hunting down there years ago."

  "Is it poisonous?"

  "Oh, sure. That thing's got enough poison to kill a whole regiment."

  "Jesus! Sure is some snake!"

  "I've seen 'em bigger'n that one when the liquor's in me," said a big fat cop.

  The other officers laughed and agreed. The desk sergeant, who had been watching from the window, called out: "Hey, chief, we ought to have a wagon like that middle one there to pen up drunks in like that feller's penned up."