Sideshow: Tales of the Galactic Midway, Vol. 1 Read online

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  Sideshow: Tales of the Galactic Midway, Vol. 1

  by Mike Resnick

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  Science Fiction

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  Fictionwise, Inc.

  www.Fictionwise.com

  Copyright ©1982 by Mike Resnick

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

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  Chapter 1

  The Dog-Faced Boy made me want to cry and run for an exit, both at the same time.

  He had the same kind of foreshortened head that you see on a bulldog or a pug, with huge furrows of loose skin wrinkling down from his forehead, and a jaw that took up the bottom half of his face. His nose didn't look like a dog's—it wasn't black or leathery or anything—but the nostrils were set farther apart than any I've ever seen, as if he'd run face-first into a brick wall at full speed and had never bothered to have the cartilage fixed. His ears were tiny little things; you got the feeling that he couldn't hear anything softer than a rifle shot.

  But it was his eyes that fascinated me. They were dark brown, and hauntingly sad: old eyes, too old for the rest of his face, eyes that would never be shocked or scared or amused again. And, like a dog's eyes, they had haws: thin membranes that formed an inner eyelid for keeping the wind and dirt out.

  I couldn't imagine how he could look at that face in a mirror and still want to go on living. It frightened and repelled me, even as it aroused a wave of pity for its owner.

  “Not bad,” said Thaddeus, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke toward the Dog-Faced Boy. “Not bad at all.”

  “It's horrible,” I said.

  “But effective,” Thaddeus replied. “I wonder what he sounds like.”

  As if on cue, the Dog-Faced Boy emitted a trio of piercing barks that sounded more like a seal than a canine.

  “Very impressive,” said Thaddeus. “Remind me to have a little talk with Elmer when we get back.”

  Elmer—aided by three hours of makeup and two years’ experience in summer stock—was our own Dog-Faced Boy.

  Thaddeus blew another mouthful of smoke at the Dog-Faced Boy, got no reaction, and walked to the next booth to look at the Human Lizard.

  The Human Lizard was naked except for a pair of shorts. He sat on a small wooden chair atop a raised platform, his back rigid, his hands braced against his knees, staring unblinkingly at us. It was impossible to tell what his expression was like, for his face—like his entire body—was covered by scales.

  Not leprous sores that gave the illusion of a snakelike texture, not the permanent skin condition that so many Lizard Men have, but sleek, shiny reptilian scales that played with the light the way a prism does. His skin looked moist and oiled, and rippled over his muscles like some living fabric, vaguely greenish in hue. He was devoid of any bodily hair, and when I was finally able to start picking out his facial features I decided that I didn't like them: his eyes looked too cold and dead, and his jaw was set very strangely onto his head.

  “I don't like it here, Thaddeus,” I said. “Let's go home.”

  “Shut up,” said Thaddeus, never taking his eyes off the Human Lizard. “Do you see a zipper anywhere?”

  “A zipper?” I repeated. “Thaddeus, that's not a costume!”

  “I didn't see one either,” he said grimly. “Damn!”

  We stopped next at the Three-Breasted Woman. She had a veil wrapped around her, but when she saw us approaching she let it slide down to the floor.

  She was wearing sort of a harem or belly-dancing costume—you know, big puffy translucent pants with ankle bracelets and a jingly belt. All three breasts were bare except for a trio of sequined pasties. Each pasty had a tassel hanging down from it, and she put her hands behind her head and started rotating her hips and shoulders until all three tassels were whirling like tiny helicopter propellers.

  I turned beet-red and lowered my eyes. That must have amused her, because she started laughing at me. Then she began doing some gyrations that were designed to shock Thaddeus. I could have told her to save her energy: nothing shocks Thaddeus. He watched her for a few minutes, then walked after me.

  “Sweat on all three of them,” he said. “No wonder we're losing business.”

  We walked past the Missing Link and the Human Pincushion and the Man of Many Colors and the Cyclops, and finally stopped in front of the India Rubber Man. He smiled at us, stood up, stretched his body an extra twelve or thirteen inches, and then bent his arms and legs and fingers in every possible direction, and a couple of impossible ones as well. Two of the children in the crowd started screaming, and I thought for a minute that one of the women was going to faint.

  Suddenly a tall, lean man with piercing eyes and an aquiline nose stepped out from behind a curtain. He was wearing a candy-striped jacket and a straw boater, both of which appeared terribly out of place on him; he looked as if he'd be more at home in a floor-length black robe, or at least the kind of cape you see in bad Dracula movies.

  “I trust you've all enjoyed the Ahasuerus Traveling Sideshow,” he said in English that was almost too perfect. “If anyone feels our advertising has been in any way fraudulent, or that our exhibits are not what they were represented to be, I shall be more than happy to refund your money.”

  He looked like he didn't expect any takers, and he wasn't disappointed.

  Most of the crowd filed out in silence.

  “Are you Mr. Ahasuerus?” asked Thaddeus, walking up to him. He was one of the few people Thaddeus couldn't meet at eye level.

  “I am privileged to work for him,” said the tall man. “My name is Romany.”

  “Well, Mr. Romany,” said Thaddeus, extending his hand, “I wonder if it might be possible for me to have a couple of words in private with Mr. Ahasuerus?”

  “I'm afraid it's completely out of the question, Mr. Flint,” said Mr. Romany, staring at Thaddeus’ outstretched hand.

  “How did you know my name?” asked Thaddeus.

  “Oh, we've been expecting you for quite some time now.”

  “Just scouting out the opposition,” said Thaddeus. “You've got yourself a hell of a freak show.”

  “We prefer to call them Nature's Wonders,” said Mr. Romany disapprovingly. “'Freaks’ is such an ugly word, don't you think?”

  “Oh, I don't know,” said Thaddeus. “I've always believed in calling a spade a spade.” He looked down at me. “What do you think, Tojo?”

  “It's a demeaning word,” I said. Or, rather, I tried to say it, but I had trouble getting the words out, as usual, and Thaddeus had to translate for me.

  “You'll have to forgive my friend,” said Thaddeus. “He's one of Nature's Wonders himself.”

  “I can't help it if I stammer,” I managed to say.

  “Are you an associate of Mr. Flint's?” asked
Mr. Romany.

  “He's my bodyguard,” said Thaddeus with a smile.

  “I see,” said Mr. Romany, showing no reaction whatsoever.

  There was a long, awkward silence.

  “If you've nothing further to say, I have work to do,” said Mr. Romany at last. “It has been an honor meeting you.”

  “Do you mind if we look around a bit more?” asked Thaddeus innocently.

  “Be my guest,” replied Mr. Romany. His face looked disappointed, but I got the feeling that his eyes were amused. “We do have one rule, however, Mr. Flint: we do not allow spectators to speak to our exhibits.”

  “You wouldn't be afraid I'll buy a couple of them off, would you?” asked Thaddeus.

  “No,” said Mr. Romany, and this time there was no doubt that he was amused. “We simply feel that conversing with them would remove some of their air of mystery and, shall we say, novelty.”

  “Whatever you say,” replied Thaddeus.

  Mr. Romany walked off without another word, and Thaddeus began walking slowly around the perimeter of the huge tent.

  “You see that door that says ‘No Admittance'?” he whispered to me.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “What do you suppose is behind it?”

  I told him I didn't know, and he chuckled.

  “I'll lay you plenty of seven-to-five that it's this Ahasuerus guy's office,” he said.

  “But Mr. Romany said that he won't speak to anyone,” I said.

  “I'm not just anyone,” replied Thaddeus. “While I keep Romany busy, why don't you just scoot over there and see where it leads?”

  “But—”

  “Nobody who wastes as much time reading as you do can hold much truck with ignorance being bliss.”

  “I don't want any trouble,” I said.

  “Well,” grinned Thaddeus, “you just think about it for a few seconds and see if you can decide who can give you more trouble—Romany or me.”

  I sighed and began approaching the door as indirectly as I could while Thaddeus walked after Mr. Romany and tried to engage him in conversation.

  When I finally got there I found that it wasn't just a tent flap, but a solid metal door. I looked around to make sure no one was watching me and tried the handle. It was locked.

  Then I put my ear to the door and listened. I couldn't hear any voices, but I heard some strange grunting or growling sound. It wasn't like anything I'd ever heard before, and it scared me. I walked away quickly and caught Thaddeus’ eye. He left Mr. Romany and joined me a minute later.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “It was locked.”

  “I knew it! It's got to be Ahasuerus’ office.”

  “I don't think so,” I replied. “I heard strange sounds coming from there.”

  He asked me what kind, and I tried to reproduce them, but I had even more trouble than I have with words, and finally he got tired of listening.

  “Well, whatever it is, I want a look inside,” he said decisively. “Maybe we'll come back later after he's closed up shop for the day.”

  “I don't think we should,” I said.

  “If I listened to you, we'd both be on welfare,” he snapped. “This guy's got more freaks than he needs. I've got a bunch of frustrated actors who couldn't draw flies at a watermelon party. We ought to be able to reach an agreement. I want to meet this guy Ahasuerus, feel him out, find out what gets to him.”

  “As long as it isn't money,” I said.

  “If I had money, I wouldn't be here trying to make a deal, you goddamned dwarf!” said Thaddeus. “Money can't be the only thing that turns him on, or he wouldn't be out here in the middle of Vermont with a patched-up tent and no heater, playing for quarters and half dollars. Maybe I can interest him in shacking up with one of the girls from the meat show.”

  “Maybe he won't want to reach that kind of agreement.”

  “Then maybe I'll trade you to him for the Rubber Man,” said Thaddeus irritably. “Just once, I wish you'd stop telling me what I can't do.” His eyes fell on the Three-Breasted Woman, and he turned to face her. “Wouldn't she go over in the meat show!”

  I was going to answer him, but just then she looked right at me and winked and I started blushing furiously, so I just turned away and said nothing.

  “Well, there's no reason why this should be a totally wasted trip,” said Thaddeus, smiling at the Three-Breasted Woman. “Take a walk, Tojo.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “Anywhere. I don't want an ugly little wart like you cramping my style.”

  “Mr. Romany said not to talk to the exhibits.”

  “And Thaddeus Flint said scram!” he snapped.

  I could see from the familiar predatory smirk on his face that nothing I could say or do was going to keep him away from the Three-Breasted Woman, so I shrugged and walked out the exit. I knew that Thaddeus wasn't inclined to accept an answer of No from a woman—any woman—so I felt I had at least half an hour to kill even if his quest was ultimately unsuccessful.

  The cold October wind chilled me right through my coat, and I zipped it all the way to the top. It was twilight, and the crowds were starting to come out in force.

  The carnival only had a trio of rides—the Zipper, the Tilt-a-Whirl, and a Ferris wheel—and none of them were doing much business, probably due to the weather. There were about twenty games lining the Midway, and from what I could see most of them were honest. There was also a Bozo Cage setup—one of those things where you throw balls at a target and try to dunk the guy sitting inside the cage—but the water was too cold, and there was nobody on duty. I couldn't see any signs of a girlie show, even though the local cops were pretty lenient about how strong the girls could work. There were three food stands, which were doing a fair business selling coffee and red-hots, and one of them had also warmed up a huge tureen of soup.

  I found it pretty easy to reach the same conclusion as Thaddeus: it was the freak show that was taking all our business away. Our rides were better, our games were more exciting, our girls had no competition, even our food stands were better stocked. Except for the freak show, it was a pretty patched-up and run-of-the-mill carnival, the kind that goes from town to town renting out to local Jaycee groups every weekend.

  The freak show made up for the rest of it, though. If there were two thousand people on the grounds, eighteen hundred had to be inside the tent or lined up to buy tickets. Paying money to gape at someone else's deformity was a concept that I could never understand—but then, I could never figure out why happily married men bought tickets to our girlie show, either.

  It was totally dark out when I decided to go back and see if Thaddeus was ready to leave yet. As I was walking toward the tent a group of men fell into step behind me. I stepped aside to let them pass, but they came to a stop too.

  “What the hell is he doing out of the freak show?” said one of them, and the others all laughed.

  “Hey, sonny, ain't it past your bedtime?” said another.

  I kept my eyes trained on the tent and kept walking. Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder, swinging me around.

  “Where's your manners?” said a blond man with long greasy hair and an acne-marked face. “Didn't you hear me just ask you a question?”

  I tried to tell him to leave me alone, but I couldn't force the words out.

  “What's the matter?” laughed another of the men, and I could see now that there were five of them. “Cat got your tongue?”

  I made an attempt to reply, but again nothing came out.

  “Why pay money for a freak show when we can look at you for free?” said the blond man.

  I gave up trying to speak and just glared at him.

  “Ugly little bastard, isn't he?” said another.

  “Come on,” said the blond man. “I'm getting tired of looking at him.”

  “Maybe he's getting tired of looking at you,” said a familiar voice behind me.

  “Who the hell are you?” said the blond
man.

  “I'm the guy who's going to make you apologize to my friend,” said Thaddeus, stepping between them and me.

  “You and what army?” laughed the blond man.

  Thaddeus didn't reply. He just stepped forward and hit the blond man full on the jaw, and slammed a fist into another man's stomach before the first one had hit the ground.

  “My friend is still waiting for that apology,” said Thaddeus, a wicked smile on his face.

  The other three jumped him, and I ran off to get a policeman while Thaddeus started cursing and hitting with equal vigor. When I returned with two security guards a minute later three of the men were lying on the ground, while Thaddeus and the other two were still flailing away, blood pouring down their faces.

  The guards broke up the fight and decided to settle for ejecting everyone from the grounds rather than making any arrests. They let Thaddeus and me leave first.

  “Well,” he said as we were driving out of the parking lot, “aren't you going to thank me for saving your ugly little neck?”

  “It wasn't necessary,” I said. “They were just teasing me. You do it all the time.”

  “I've got a right,” he said. “They don't.”

  “They wouldn't have hurt me,” I persisted.

  “How the hell do you know?” he shot back. “Besides, I like an occasional fight.”

  “Especially after a woman has turned you down,” I said softly.

  “I've got to do something with all that energy,” he agreed. Suddenly he turned to me. “What makes you think she turned me down?” he asked sharply.

  “Just a guess,” I said.

  “Well if she hadn't, I wouldn't have been around to pull your fat out of the fire,” he said petulantly.

  “They wouldn't have hurt me,” I repeated. “They were about to leave.”

  “Goddamned ungrateful little dwarf,” he muttered. We drove the rest of the way in total silence.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Chapter 2

  Thaddeus calls me a dwarf, but I'm not.

  What I am is a hunchback. He knows it, of course, but he can't make any money displaying a hunchback in a sideshow. He says that people have this regrettable tendency to feel sorry for hunchbacks, rather than being fascinated or scared by them. He doesn't know why, given the splendid example of Quasimodo, but that's the way he says it is. He even tried billing me as the World's Smallest Hunchback—the best of two worlds, he called it—but it didn't work. (Actually, if I could stand erect the way I used to be able to do when I was growing up, I'd probably be five foot three or four: not enormous, but not a dwarf, either.) He also calls me Tojo: it isn't my name—or, at least, it didn't use to be. But my eyes are kind of narrow, and my hair is black, and my skin has a yellow cast to it from all the times I've been sick. Thaddeus decided the first time he saw me that if my name wasn't Tojo it ought to be—and since I didn't want my parents to find me and send me back to the sanitarium, I figured that Tojo was as good a name as any and better than most. To this day, I don't think Thaddeus knows my real name.