I was sitting on the box, sipping cold beer, when suddenly something rustled under me. I almost jumped out of my skin with surprise and spilled beer onto the counter. Damn!
Someone began to guffaw. I scowled and was going to give a rebuff, but this loud rustle repeated. I slipped off the box and cautiously peeped into a round hole on the side. There was something white inside, like a big rat or a rabbit. I looked through a hole on the other side. A pigeon! Aren’t they flyers? How on earth could someone cage a poor bird into such a stuffy, dark box? A big poker-picture on the side of the box said ‘Kuckuck Circus’. Of course. That was a given. A circus.
I stood straight up and looked about. The bar had suddenly lost its charm. It was as if someone had twitched the festal cloth off a table and bared its true, smeared and scratched ugly surface.
A howitzer! It had begun with a conversation about the howitzer barrel aimed at a banquet! Hmm… Maybe I should say, “It began with our conversation about a circus!” to be more precise. I can’t say that I’m very snarky but I really don’t like circus art.I see many societal blemishes in it. A circus is an ugly show in my opinion! Nasty clowns with inflatable hammers who bash each other and the audience… A rubber girl who squirms like an epileptic with convulsions… A mangy dog with an old abacus – can I REALLY believe that IT is able to count to ten? Honestly? Can you believe in this? Golly! You’re such fools!
I realized that I was shouting only when I noted the expostulatory look from my lovely Chilperic. But I had decided to ignore it. And I’ll still tell him tonight that I’m a big girl, and he can stop parenting me! I must finish my speech!
So, I decided to gather all this rabble and to shoot them out of the howitzer. It’s the only decent performance in the circus! And when I had finished, I was quite pleased with myself.
A strange creature in the corner looked at me… And just then, I began to shiver, out of the blue… And after that chill I heard a stomp from the side corridor.
I stand on the stage and feel like I’m blind. I can see nothing beyond the blinding glare of terrible searchlights. A black gaping abyss is beneath my feet… the silent auditorium. – ¡Señoras y señores, buenas tardes! What? What the hell? I’m not only blind… deaf also! Perfect! Just perfect! – ¡Ceremonia ‘Premio Dardos Award’ a la vista! Oh, dear me… how could I forget? Hell… HELL! I try to recall where I put my list of nominees… on the table… or on the bookshelf… in the glove compartment? – ¡Unbolt arenga! I’ve never cursed myself like I do now… I can’t lay an egg! Not today when I’m so close to my target! Not today! My list of nominees… damn it! I don’t need it! I smile at Prakash Hegade. One step ahead… I close my eyes and start to speak. Without my list. Without any preparation. I’m saying their names by heart. I’m reading my heart list…
P.S. Ah… sorry, my dear Prakash Hegade for my creativity… Guilty! Now you can arrest me! The last thing that I should tell my heart nominees – “All information and rules regarding the Premio Dardos Award are here.” The end. Take him away!
…I woke up on a big heap of rotten beetroot and zucchini. It had a terrible stink… No! It was more than that — a hellish stink! I coughed and tried to open my eyes.
I was in semi-darkness… though a few minutes later my eyes adjusted to it. But, I wasn’t too happy with the picture I saw. And the main reason for this was the goonwho was sitting on the wooden box opposite me. He looked sore, and his feathers were shabby and mucky. “He doesn’t look kosher…” Why do such stupid thoughts come to mind at times like this? Is it a self-defense mechanism when confronting madness?
Fuck! Yesterday I had relished the sterling French accent of my Chilperic as he entreated me to be more prudent, to not have common affairs with this hillbilly Henry… I didn’t listen to him, unfortunately… At that moment, the choice of my eyeliner’s color to pair with my evening dress had been more important to me… I was a fool! Stupid chicken! I tried to recall the previous evening. It was still a fog in my memory, just a gray and sticky fog… Suddenly, I recalled.
It had begun with a conversation about the howitzer barrel aimed at the banquet! (to be continued)
You ventriloquized with a snobbish drawl.
Pompous velvet curtains masked a dark hole.
I was always curious about who was behind the pall.
I looked around… and I stabbed the curtains with a heavy awl.
I jumped! I didn’t expect… the hole can bawl!