Dean/Deeby, when he wasn't doing push-ups or giving annoying lectures to others about what comedy was really all about, spent time showing off exaggerated clown biceps to any female in sight, most certainly including Jodi/Emerald, the shirt inflating like a balloon to absurd degrees. Experimentally, Doopy snuck up behind him on one such occasion with a pin, but rather than popping the inflated bicep a thin jet of blood squirted out. Deeby informed the world it hadn't hurt at all then stomped Doopy pretty badly before rolling him down the riverbank, provoking a Goshy attack soon after, despite Jamie's attempts to calm things down. Goshy got up on the train bridge, waited til Deeby passed below, then landed on him like an anvil. Something went crunch, but Deeby ended up bench pressing his confused attacker for the next half hour or so, which Goshy seemed not to mind at all, judging by the satisfied chirping and whistling he made. Doopy danced around this display nervously, promising to tattle to Gonko and maybe even to Mr. Bigbad.
Deeby then went fishing with a spear he'd made, pulling from the river all manner of exotic things, none of which actually existed in the river before. In Jamie's day it didn't yield much more than occasional catfish, but Deeby's haul included a shark and an octopus, which the gypsy women gladly cooked. Soon Deeby was their favorite clown, and Jamie hardly had to tell him anymore to play along. Dean was clearly having the time of his life, and it did just a little to swing Jamie's opinion back from the sinister conclusions he'd been drawing about this circus and its people.
And okay, yes, it was weird here, ugly at times too . . . and these were weird people, if they could even be called people. Did that make it necessarily sinister or evil? Usually evil disguised itself as normal, even seemed pleasing to the eye and blended in. These beings and their ways hid from sight mainly because the world would not fathom them, even if they were good beneath the visible ugliness.
Emerald/Jodi too seemed right at home. She loved being fussed over, groomed, dressed by the gypsies, and adorned with their strange jewelry. She paid Jamie no mind when he went to check on her well-being, in fact disdainfully dismissed him with a regal flick of her fingernails, prompting the gypsy women to chase him off with knives bared. He just once got a peek under her veil when she adjusted it and could hardly believe his eyes. He'd thought of her as merely "cute" before—still a level of attractiveness for which Jamie would traditionally have undergone all manner of insane male questing, should he have a chance with such a girl. Now though, she was something else altogether, a drop dead knockout in some odd unearthly way, and it wasn't even clear what exactly had changed—the same face, same not-quite hourglass body and auburn hair. The eye was just drawn to her and did not want to look away. It was a good thing (for her sake) she wore that veil; he, and maybe everyone else, would otherwise spend most of the day staring at her, and some of these clowns seemed not so great at impulse control.
He was still no closer to answers about what happened "last time," other than what peculiar (even miraculous) things he'd seen with his own eyes. The only info he got was from a dwarf named Knuckles on his cigar break. It was not the dwarf who'd tried to kill him yesterday (that dwarf still glowered when he came near.) A stout bearded thing fresh from Tolkien's pages, Knuckles pulled from his pocket some paper and hesitantly read a prepared answer: "What we do at the shom—I mean show—is to extract the bad luck and stick—sickness? What man if fests? In the form of this crystal stuff what falls to the grond. Ground. Like what were in that bag you have. We then collect the bad stuff and so it can be destroyed and . . ." The answer (or the effort reading it) was enough to put the dwarf to sleep, until the cigar burned down to his fingers.
A prepared answer to a question rather different than the one Jamie had asked? Suspect, yes, but hardly the strangest thing that had happened lately. Maybe the dwarf was none too bright and needed to keep a written reminder of his own life's purpose. Or of course that pesky other possibility, like an itch that wouldn't quite go away: they were all pulling his leg, maybe pulling the rest of him too, down into places where he did not want to go.
And as always when that itch arose, he soothed it by thinking of the family who no longer trusted him, of phone calls calling him a murderer, and of workmates who felt he was suspect. Not to mention the more usual pains in the ass of everyday life: traffic fines and phone bills, a culture yearly more depraved and perverse (morning music video shows alone a good indicator of the sickness), waking early to play the role of a slave, caught in traffic, ageing, dying, all for no real point unless you could become emotionally invested in the outcome of a football game. If he was going somewhere bad, how much worse could it be than where he'd come from?
•
When Gonko finally returned—preceded by the arrival of several new dwarfs, for whom an extra tent had to be raised—the clown boss had with him a large being draped in a nun's habit. The rest of them got a glimpse of knees and ankles like huge marshmallows of milky flesh, and feet whose skin jiggled liquidly with each step. "Say, I'm going to be able to perform here soon, right?" said a frightened voice before Gonko ushered him into the one tent Jamie (and the other new recruits) had been forbidden to enter.
That done, Gonko gathered the other clowns together (excluding Deeby and Jamie) for a whispered conversation that involved much pointing and staring in Jamie's direction. He saw shrugs, baffled expressions, and was given the distinct impression he'd done something wrong. When the huddle parted, however, nothing was said to him about it.
Gonko approached. "Rest up. Show day tomorrow. We'll knock 'em dead."
Jamie said, "Cool. So aren't you going to put signs up to draw a crowd? How you plan to get people in here? We're kind of hidden away."
"Fret not, my sweet." Gonko pointed to the train now clattering over the bridge loaded with commuters. "Every one of those tricks is going to be here tomorrow. Ticket collectors will set up the gates between seven and eight, over at the train station."
This meant little to Jamie. "Not very selective, then, the process of who needs their bad luck and illness removed?"
"Eh? What the f—oh, right. Selective as all get out, my young caperer. Each one of them tricks has been thoroughly vetted by the research department. Now, we ain't had time to rehearse an act, so we're doing old material, unless you can think up some new gags by tomorrow. If not, your mission will be to keep Deeby the hell off my stage. He messes up my act, I mess up his physical structure. Got it?"
"Sure. But yeah I have a couple of skit ideas, like this one where—"
"Later, later. Gonko has had a busy few days and is gonna kick back a little with Marilyn. Oh, and what the hell is Goshy doing with all those flower pots?"
"Looks like he's just collecting them." Now a dozen of the red clay flowerpots sat in neat rows of four beside the clown tent. "Seems harmless enough, unless I'm missing something?"
"Yeah, well. He's got a history with that kind of deal. Advice: stay away from the pots." Gonko stomped over to the clown tent, kicked out Doopy and Rufshod, and then hung a do not disturb sign on the front. Some minutes later they heard him say, "I'll make you a star all right, toots. But it's gonna cost you."
Doopy, adjusting his hat, said, "Did you hear, guys? The boss found JJ! Gonko done gone and went and found himself JJ! And he's gonna bring him back, just like us was bringed back."