I may from time to time be contributing with The Artist on nonsense over at http://bitterdick.tumblr.com/

It’s a Circus

“Men will always tell you the greatest danger lies in the heart of women, but that’s just macho bullshit talking. They don’t understand women, and it’s easier to make them into this ill-intentioned enigma than to listen and figure them out. Women I get, but other men are the mystery. I don’t know what drives other guys to join the army or try so hard to miss the draft. I never understood why the hell you’d feel so strongly either way about shit that doesn’t really affect you. I get not wanting to die overseas if they draft you, sure. I understand what being a coward is like, but why make it a big, political song and dance? If you’re scared of the Viet-Cong, just say it. If you’re not, go kill enough of them to satiate The President. Until they pick your number, shut the fuck up, smoke some dope and get on with life. This next generation is going to whine the world to death before it gets a chance to change shit. ‘And babies?’ Yeah, and babies too. Pricks.

“While the kids are prancing unclothed around a drum somewhere, the rest of us have to work. If there’s one solid argument for ending the war, it’s to get some tax dollars back into state and local government. With all the effort being spent sending cops and guardsmen to watch these brats, the streets themselves are turning to shit. Budgets are razor-thin, but this city needs the police, whether they can afford it or not. A cut in pay and evaporating overtime mean a guy needs to find extra work wherever he can. When I’m not stuck at protests or working the beat, I pick up some private jobs. The pay is alright if I deliver results, but it means putting up with a lot more crap.

“The crap I’m referring to is usually a cheating wife, disappearing husband. I’d be a lot worse off if people stopped fucking, but until then, I do alright. Every once and a while a case will grab you by the balls and shake ‘em to see what you’re made of. That’s what this job is, a good cock-crusher. Getting here took two weeks of digging through dumpsters and ledgers. I thought it would be a simple case of ‘find the sister,’ but damned if the trail didn’t lead through an infant space-research company into some sort of circus-sex cult. You put one guy on the moon, and every crazy fucker thinks it’s the future. If this was a story out of a college literary magazine, I’d say the author was one trip away from a mental institution. On this case, the crap I’m referring to is the elephant dung stuck to the sole of my shoes. I probably should have called the cops since I’m out of my jurisdiction, but I need the girl if I want the green.

“The girl’s name is Amanda, and she left home six months back. The family is up in Green Bay, but a private dick up there tracked her to the city. That’s where I come in. He said he didn’t have any connections south of Milwaukee and needed someone with ties to law enforcement if things turned to shit. The brother said she wanted to be a dancer her whole life, but it didn’t fit into daddy’s cheese empire. She ducked in the night, and all I get is this lousy case and some straw up my ass. If this works itself out, I’m going to need a ten-hour shower. That’s all beside the point, I guess.

“You’re a lost girl in a big city, what do you do? I figure you’d start stripping, maybe turn a few tricks at the worst. I don’t know how why the fuck you’d volunteer for zero-gravity experiments. My guess is she got in too deep, maybe they gave her some of those new drugs you hear whispers about the army testing, maybe they promised her a lot of cash, enough to get started here. My guess is they said whatever she wanted to hear. That’s where the trail went cold. They said they’d never heard of her, assured me the experiments were all legal. They insisted she wasn’t part of the test group unless she used a fake name, and they even let me take a tour of their state-of-the-art facility. It looked like a fucking carnival ride.

“I know when I’m being fluffed, and I have solid word she wound up there somehow. So when I sniff around and find a connection between these future-fuckers and the big top, I dig a little more. You hear stories of sex trafficking, animal abuse, crimes against nature – nothing the police can prove – but the streets talk. I come out here with nothing but vague suspicion, and the girls act like fucking zombies. They’ve got the loosest lips around until you ask the wrong questions, then they don’t say peanuts. When a uni-browed no-neck threatens to rough me up, I know I’ve got something.

“I figure it wouldn’t be too hard to roam around after hours. I expect to just slip in, take a look around, see if I’m chasing a blind tiger. Just my luck to stumble upon a circle of naked girls with a masked ring-master giving them sips from a fucking chalice in the middle of a poppy garden. That kind of shit ruins an evening. I’m thinking I need to find something solid before taking off; this could just be the circus at work. Who knows what the freaks get up to when the family’s go home, right? I’m not actually naïve enough to think that, but I’ve got to be sure before I move. One misstep puts me square into a pile of shit, literally. I lose my balance, make a thud, and then the strongmen are coming for me.

“So that’s how you get caught snooping around and end up in a cage. It sounds fucking insane, and I don’t even know that I believe it. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up any second, but it’s not going to happen is it? This is all real, and I’ve got to find a way out. I’m talking to an exhibit for fucks sake!”

“What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Ted. Just, fucking, Ted.”

“Well, Ted, I may have a way out of here for us. You see I’ve been plotting an escape from this insufferable place for a considerable amount of time. There’s a girl here, not one of the heroin-harem, a tight-roper and escape artist. She’s skilled at a great many things, and she owes me. If I got us out, would you find me somewhere to hide? At least until you bring down the big top or they stop looking?”

“Yeah, anything. I’ve got someone I don’t want worrying about me. Do you have a name?”

“Curtis E. Bear, at your service. We had best make haste, Ted. It’s a circus out there.”
-N