Tales of the Galactic Midway #1
SIDESHOW
Mike Resnick
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 1982 by Mike Resnick
A Baen Books Ebook
Baen Publishing Enterprises
P.O. Box 1403
Riverdale, NY 10471
www.baen.com
ISBN 10: 0-451-13218-1
ISBN 13: 978-0-451-13218-5
First ebook release, January 2008
Electronic version by WebWrights
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."