COURTING CLOWNS

An aspiring circus performer shows her old-school performance partner some new tricks and earns herself a name in the process

Bonnie stood star-struck before the Big Top, clutching her diploma and her red sponge nose. She’d overcome everything standing in her way, including convincing her family this was her destiny. Graduating in the top ten in Clown College, she’d earned her chance at the Greatest Show on Earth. Today was the day her dreams finally came true.

“You’ve been assigned teams according to specialties,” Bertram, the ringmaster, announced in his broadcast voice. “Team Blue Balls, Jugglers, over there, Red Riots, running stunts, there. Tricksters, sight gags, over there, and acrobats, Flying Squirrels, here.”

The old timers divided into four groups around the ring, leaving the newcomers, in their rainbowed regalia, huddled together like a quivering birthday cake.
 

“Find your group. The troupe leaders will teach you the routines. Two weeks and we’re live! Good luck! And welcome to the Greatest Show on Earth!”

Bonnie’s anxiety rose. Could she compete with this brilliant cast of experienced Flying Squirrels? She quashed those thoughts. She excelled at acrobatics and comedy, all her instructors said so! 

Two weeks in, the strain on the new graduates was showing and patience from the old-schoolers was wearing thin. Her assigned partner, Noodles, in particular, had lost his. Bonnie had done well in the early stunts, but now they became more dangerous. Noodles’ Arctic blue eyes had laugh crinkles surrounding them, but they weren’t laughing in her direction.

“Your clown name could be Klutzo,” he snapped when she missed the hurdle again. “You’ve got to do better!”

There it was, in the pit of her stomach, that feeling of doubt about her abilities! While a superior athlete, certain types of learning could be challenging for her, but her creative workarounds had usually enabled her to excel! One secret for overcoming obstacles was pure trust that time would tell. Without time, all she had was fortitude.

“I’ll get it! I just need a little more time… and I’ve already chosen my clown name. It’s Twinkles, to match my sparkly costume.”

“Time’s something we don’t have, though I’m sure your coddled life has led you to believe otherwise. That’s the problem with college grads,” Noodles snarled. “Besides, you don’t get to choose your own clown name.”

“What?”

“It evolves…out of the troupe.”

“So why Noodles?” 

“I’m tall. Long arms and legs. Good for catching flying clowns. Arms like noodles, get it? Now do it again.” 

Bonnie surveyed Noodle’s long lean body and dark disobedient hair as he hunkered for her rush. He was handsome, even in white-face, and couldn’t be that much older than she. How’d he find  his way here with the old-timers? That night, she dreamed of falling…from clown cars…clown barrels…into strong clown arms. 

Their grand finale featured a bank robbery with a game of keep-away with a stolen moneybag during a dare-devil car chase, ending in a game of Chicken, clown car style. Bonnie’s simple overhead somersault would set up the moneybag for passing, but even slowed, her timing was off. Now they were speeding things up.

The next somersault, Bonnie executed perfectly. Noodles was poised to receive, but she lost her grip, slamming him in the face with the bag containing several pounds of strawberry pudding. It exploded upon impact. Noodles, dripping red goo, stormed from the ring. Outside, she overheard him admonishing  Bertram. 

“Green and unreliable!...Dangerous!” 

Bonnie felt the cold hands of failure grip her; then, refusing to give up, chased Noodles down the midway.

“What’s your problem with me anyway? I’ll master this!”

“My problem’s not personal! It’s that Clown College! You entitled greenhorns think some semesters of school can teach you this? Most of us learned the hard way, working up from shit-hole carnival to shit-hole carnival. Nothing got handed to us like you!” 

Bonnie lost it. “THERE’S MORE THAN ONE WAY TO LEARN!” she shouted. “I’m sorry about your hard knocks, clown-face, but you think I had it easy?” She yanked off her frizzy pink wig, sending her hair flying in a golden cascade, cheeks red-hot with agitation. “Look! This is how I have to learn simple choreography!” she cried, yanking six feet of scrolled paper covered in hand-drawn illustrations out of a gigantic red pocket. 

“It’s called dyslexia. Lists, written instructions- lost on me! Things I see and hear get distorted, but I’ve always managed to graduate top of my class. I’ve had a lifetime of people believing I couldn’t do anything and me proving them wrong! I just need time! Please!”

“There’s no time left! We open tomorrow. Handle it by dress rehearsal or Bertram cancels the routine!”

Dress Rehearsal

Sixteen clowns fleeing a bank façade pile into lopsided red and green jalopies and take off on a madcap chase ending in a final face-off, engines revving. An Aooga horn, signals GO!

Bonnie somersaults into ChiChi’s arms where she claims the moneybag and executes a perfect hand-off to Noodles, who hangs off Red Car, stretching one spaghetti-arm towards KoKo in the Green. Following this, they will careen away, avoiding the inevitable head-on collision. 

But something goes wrong. 

Green’s accelerator jams. Green barrels towards Noodle’s out-stretched body, causing Red to wrench right to avoid catastrophe. Inertia flings Noodles to the sawdust. Green swerves to avoid him, but can’t stop, hurtling forward into an aerial trapeze tower, which wavers, then creaks, tipping slowly forward, cracking at its base. Clowns leap for safety, but Noodles lies stunned in its deadly shadow. 

Instantly, Bonnie springs into a quintuple front flip, covering the yawning distance in split seconds. She grabs Noodles and rolls.  Spectators, shriek as the tower crashes down. When the dust settles, Noodles, cradled in Bonnie’s arms, looks up at her in wonderment. 

“Where the hell did you learn to do that?” he gasps.

“Just something I learned in clown school,” she quips, laughing in relief. With a look of mischief she produces a flower which morphs into a bouquet. Noodles’ eyes finally laugh in return.

“Not worried about you anymore…and you just earned your clown name, Twinkles. To match those sparkling eyes!”

    ~taree Belardes

NYC MIDNIGHT FLASH FICTION COMP 2017 

Word limit- 1000 words

Time limit- 48 hrs.

Prompts;

Genre; Romantic Comedy

Setting; The scene of an automobile accident

object to include; A bag of money

(Winner grp ?- first round flash 2017)