Family Circus
Not many people know this, but my family were circus folk. My father ran the big top, learning the role of ringmaster from his father, while also possessing a keen knack for training bears. My brothers were masters of high-wire acts. As for my mother....well, there are reasons I have such a thick beard. It was a happy time for awhile, touring the country like a roaming band of gypsies. I was only a child, but I recall most of it. The smell of cotton candy and hay, the rowdy calls from the roadies in the game booths, the drunken clowns waking me up in the middle of the night to show me new gags they came up with. Yet it was not to last.
One day while my Father was training a new bear, Bobo, my Mother came into the tent to surprise him with a picnic basket filled with lunch she had made. My Father made the mistake of turning his back on the bear and was subsequently decapitated. Unfortunately my Mother fainted and it is not known if the bear devoured her or the picnic basket first. In the Grande scheme of things I'm not sure it really matters.
My brothers tried to keep the Circus going but it was an effort in vain, as although masters at their craft they knew little about the other aspects of the circus. They raised me for awhile as best they could, taking odd jobs and what not, but aerial acrobatics was their calling, and would also prove to be their downfall. Money was very tight in those days and my brothers took their high wire skills and became second story men, breaking and entering affluent high rise apartments via balcony doors. It was a sad day when they were eventually caught. I still talk to them weekly when they are permitted to use the phones in various prisons they now call home.
When my brothers went to jail the clowns took over rearing me. You can see how I rebelled, they wanted me to be a clown like them but I said no way. Maybe a life with floppy shoes and a big red nose was the way for them but not me. Insurance was my game, so almost 8 years ago I left the clowns and the circus and made my way west to Scottsdale....and here I've been ever since.
One day while my Father was training a new bear, Bobo, my Mother came into the tent to surprise him with a picnic basket filled with lunch she had made. My Father made the mistake of turning his back on the bear and was subsequently decapitated. Unfortunately my Mother fainted and it is not known if the bear devoured her or the picnic basket first. In the Grande scheme of things I'm not sure it really matters.
My brothers tried to keep the Circus going but it was an effort in vain, as although masters at their craft they knew little about the other aspects of the circus. They raised me for awhile as best they could, taking odd jobs and what not, but aerial acrobatics was their calling, and would also prove to be their downfall. Money was very tight in those days and my brothers took their high wire skills and became second story men, breaking and entering affluent high rise apartments via balcony doors. It was a sad day when they were eventually caught. I still talk to them weekly when they are permitted to use the phones in various prisons they now call home.
When my brothers went to jail the clowns took over rearing me. You can see how I rebelled, they wanted me to be a clown like them but I said no way. Maybe a life with floppy shoes and a big red nose was the way for them but not me. Insurance was my game, so almost 8 years ago I left the clowns and the circus and made my way west to Scottsdale....and here I've been ever since.