Jim Harris walked casually towards the red and white striped tent top standing up above all the nearby buildings. His dusty black fedora was pushed back on his head and he was holding his jacket flopped over his shoulder. He had not shaved that morning in hopes if adding authenticity to his roll.
There was a strange mixture of smells in the air; smog and dust and a very strong odor of animal wafted in Jim's direction. Jim scrunched his nose and frowned. Loud sounds of people, equipment, and animals also warned of the presence of a circus. As Jim came near, he rehearsed his cover story once more in his head.
"Got very sick with a fever two months ago. Stayed in Dansville while the rest of the group went on ahead. Needing any kind of position; temporary or permanent. Am a sword-swallower/slight-of-hand magician by profession. Willing to feed animals, operate equipment, do anything just to get paid." Jim straightened his hat and looked up at the morning sun. "I wonder if this will really work. I'm going to have to infiltrate this circus and try to find a lost young man, and all the while I must keep a convincing cover story so as not to tip off the uncle who seems to be running this troup." Jim kicked his heals against the rough pavement, "I wonder what sort of man Hal Racab really is. Everybody that I have met so far has had only terrible things to say about him, yet his brother in law sent his infant son off with him. Roger Sandler must have seen something in Hal that he trusted enough to send him with a little baby."
Jim's thoughts were rudely interrupted by somebody's angry shouting. "I should have had it an hour ago!" the voice echoed. Jim walked closer to see who was speaking. A medium height and regular featured man was standing in front of a small mobile home. In the doorway of the mobile home stood a plump lady with her arm around a tall lanky teenaged boy. The man in front of them was red faced.
"Don't stand there with your mouth gaping like a codfish, get it to me now!" The red faced man sputtered. Jim stood back from the wagon so it wouldn't look like he was listening. A fellow walked past Jim, but Jim caught his arm. "Who's thet beet-faced fella over there hollerin' at everyone?" Jim asked indicating the direction with his head.
"That's Hal Racab. He is the manager of this troupe." The little circus man said.
"Hmm, and I'm needin' to ask him fer a job." Jim mumbled.
"Well you'd better talk to Arty Gordon instead. Hal's in a rather bad mood this morning."
"Where would I find this Arty Gordon?" Jim asked.
"He's in the big top looking at a trick riding act. Tell him your a friend of mine and I sent you." he replied.
"Thanks, friend, but I don't know yer name." Jim said with a jolly laugh.
The circus man smiled cheerfully. "My friends all call me Jody."
To be continued...
"Got very sick with a fever two months ago. Stayed in Dansville while the rest of the group went on ahead. Needing any kind of position; temporary or permanent. Am a sword-swallower/slight-of-hand magician by profession. Willing to feed animals, operate equipment, do anything just to get paid." Jim straightened his hat and looked up at the morning sun. "I wonder if this will really work. I'm going to have to infiltrate this circus and try to find a lost young man, and all the while I must keep a convincing cover story so as not to tip off the uncle who seems to be running this troup." Jim kicked his heals against the rough pavement, "I wonder what sort of man Hal Racab really is. Everybody that I have met so far has had only terrible things to say about him, yet his brother in law sent his infant son off with him. Roger Sandler must have seen something in Hal that he trusted enough to send him with a little baby."
Jim's thoughts were rudely interrupted by somebody's angry shouting. "I should have had it an hour ago!" the voice echoed. Jim walked closer to see who was speaking. A medium height and regular featured man was standing in front of a small mobile home. In the doorway of the mobile home stood a plump lady with her arm around a tall lanky teenaged boy. The man in front of them was red faced.
"Don't stand there with your mouth gaping like a codfish, get it to me now!" The red faced man sputtered. Jim stood back from the wagon so it wouldn't look like he was listening. A fellow walked past Jim, but Jim caught his arm. "Who's thet beet-faced fella over there hollerin' at everyone?" Jim asked indicating the direction with his head.
"That's Hal Racab. He is the manager of this troupe." The little circus man said.
"Hmm, and I'm needin' to ask him fer a job." Jim mumbled.
"Well you'd better talk to Arty Gordon instead. Hal's in a rather bad mood this morning."
"Where would I find this Arty Gordon?" Jim asked.
"He's in the big top looking at a trick riding act. Tell him your a friend of mine and I sent you." he replied.
"Thanks, friend, but I don't know yer name." Jim said with a jolly laugh.
The circus man smiled cheerfully. "My friends all call me Jody."
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment