Nathan shrugged. “It’s better than Fangboy.”
“Fangboy? Why, that’s brilliant! I wish I’d thought of that myself instead of merely claiming credit for it in the future!”
“What if people think he’s a vampire?” asked Kleft.
“All the better! People are in favor of vampires these days. Fangboy it is! Finish putting on your suit.”
Nathan hated his costume. It was brown, with lots of fanged mouths sewn onto the fabric. (Not, it must be noted, actual mouths, but rather artistic representations of mouths. Though if Mongrel had come up with the idea and such a thing were practical, he very well may have tried it.) He straightened the sleeves and stood in front of Mongrel and Kleft, feeling awkward and self-conscious.
“Perfect!” said Mongrel. “It truly brings out the sharpness of your teeth.”
“Can’t I just wear normal clothes?” asked Nathan.
“Not in my Theatre of the Macabre. Perhaps if you sign on with some discount hobo-laden charity theatre you can wear your street clothes, but not here. Now, it is time to practice.” He clapped his hands. “Assistant Kleft! The spider box!”
Kleft picked a small wooden box up off the stage and set it down in front of Nathan.
“Inside this box are a dozen different varieties of spiders,” said Mongrel. “You will be able to tell which ones are venomous by observing whether or not you die after you are bitten.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“That was a joke. You’re in the entertainment business now, so levity is important! Nobody wants to pay to see a sour-faced spider-eater. That said, there are venomous ones in there, and it will serve you well to avoid them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Remember, it’s all about showmanship. You can’t just tilt your head back and shake the contents of the box out into your open mouth. The audience needs to feel as if they were eating a tarantula themselves. As the webby contents of its thorax spew out onto your tongue, each person sitting in those seats needs to feel as if it is their own tongue being coated.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“You can get entertainment that isn’t disgusting at the ballet! These people want to see, smell, hear, taste, and touch the macabre! Now open the lid.”
Nathan opened the lid. The box was indeed filled with crawling spiders.
“Pick one up. If you choose a black widow, do it quickly.”
Nathan plucked the largest spider he could find from the box then shut the lid so the others wouldn’t escape. He tossed the spider into the air and caught it between his teeth.
“Amazing!” Mongrel shouted. “Why didn’t you tell us you could do that?”
Nathan wanted to explain that it was something he’d never tried before, and in fact he’d only thought of the trick two seconds earlier, but he had a spider between his teeth.
“So, go on, bite it!”
Nathan offered a silent apology to the arachnid, then bit it in half.
“That was unspeakably entertaining,” said Mongrel. “We have an act!”
Nathan sat backstage, listening to the sounds of the audience being unimpressed with the Tattooed Man’s story about how he’d originally asked for a crescent moon on his arm, but how the tattoo artist had convinced him to go with a star instead, and about how sometimes when the moon was in the sky he regretted his decision.
“Are you ready?” Mongrel asked. “You’re on next.”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose? What kind of lackadaisical attitude is that? We need enthusiasm. A lot of people have traveled long distances tonight to see Fangboy. Do you know who’s here? Do you?”
“Who?”
“None other than Charles Monchino, star of stage and screen. His filmography includes motion pictures such as Doom’s Day, Lady’s Bug, and Spoke’s Person. Terrible films, all, but financially lucrative.”
Nathan sat up straight. “I’ve never met a movie star.”
“Perhaps tonight you will. He’s one of the most respected citizens in existence, and if he enjoys the show, imagine the publicity!”
“I can’t perform with him in the audience!”
“Oh, now, don’t worry about stage fright. If he intimidates you, just imagine that a president or a king was in the audience in his place. The lights will be low anyway, so you won’t even see him. It’s almost time. Get focused.”
The tattooed man finished up his story and left to a smattering of polite applause. Mongrel walked out onto the stage.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I bring you tonight’s main attraction. When you and I gaze into the mirror, we see teeth with flattened tops. Do I speak the truth?”
Several members of the audience murmured that he did indeed speak the truth.
“But the same cannot be said for our next attraction. For when Fangboy looks in the mirror and opens his mouth enough to expose his teeth, he sees sharp, glistening, murderous fangs!”
“Oh, dear!” said somebody in the audience.
“Fear not, for Fangboy will not be murdering any humans tonight, though if he wanted to I suspect that he could end the lives of a good eight or nine of you before we were able to subdue him. Instead, he will focus his homicidal impulses on members of the arachnid family! Ladies and gentlemen, practice your gasps and cross your legs, for I present to you…Fangboy!”
EIGHTEEN
Nathan walked out onto the stage, feeling more than a little bit sick to his stomach. A spotlight shone in his eyes. The audience, who he could barely see in the darkened theatre, applauded politely.
Mongrel gestured to Nathan. “He looks like a normal boy, one you might hire to mow your lawn or fetch things for your grandmother as she writhes in the final stages of dementia. But no, behind those lips lurks a sight that will chill each and every one of you down to the soft red marrow of your bones. If your psyche is fragile, then look away, look away, for what you are about to witness will imbed deep, jagged scars upon the surface of your brain!”
Nathan thought he might be building the whole thing up a bit too much, leaving the audience feeling disappointed when the actual performance began. If he’d had any say in the way the program was arranged—which Mongrel made it very clear he did not—Mongrel would have merely announced Nathan as a straightforward juggling act, and a poor one at that, and as the audience shifted uncomfortably in their seats over the awkward sight of Nathan picking up dropped balls, having failed to complete even a single “toss and catch,” he would flash them a sheepish smile, at which point the more clever members of the audience would realize that this was not a juggling act at all, and they would scream and point, and the rest of the audience would quickly catch on, and pretty soon there’d be an entire audience of people screaming and pointing at Nathan, and it would be quite a show.
(It is important to note that Nathan did not want to encourage the audience to scream and point at him; he was merely noting that the theatrical presentation could have been made much more dramatic with relatively minor changes.)
“I must remind you,” Mongrel told the audience, “that we cannot bear any responsibility if one or more of you are to drop dead from fear. Obviously, this disclaimer only applies to death from fright over what you’re about to see. If part of the ceiling collapsed and struck somebody on the head, naturally we’d assume our proper legal obligations. But if you feel that your heart may not be able to withstand the shock and the horror and the amazement and the eerie sensation that something just isn’t quite right with that boy’s teeth, then I strongly encourage you to leave immediately.”