"Hm! Well, why not. If it's no great trouble."
"None at all, boss." Though it was trouble disassembling the cage's ribs of metal and wood, under the pensive gaze of Dr. Gloom. It took an hour before Kurt could finally be dragged out, by which time they all got pretty sick of the tune he was humming.
Kurt's human flesh had regrown, though he was thin and looked brittle. He stood naked, smiling serenely at each of the clowns as Gonko retrieved one of his old business suits and helped him dress. "It will take some time to regain the strength in my legs," said Kurt, taking a few experimental steps. "Ah! There it is, that's better. Now, if you'll pardon me a moment, I must find something to eat a touch more substantial than fish flakes." Kurt sprinted away, and they heard no more from him for a while, unless the hideous shrieks of pain that soon followed were of his making.
Gonko, a touch irritated, led them back to their tent for a game of cards. Rufshod said, "Boss. Wasn't he meant to be, you know, a bit more grateful and shit?"
"Give it time," said Gonko, but the way he dealt the cards, ripping most of them in half, showed he felt the same way.
•
Bright and early the next morning word got around (via George's therapist, now apparently Kurt's secretary and minus a couple of teeth) that a Special Meeting was to occur in the acrobat stage tent. All performers gathered there, as did about half the carny rats, who looked no less edgy and murderous than they had yesterday. Kurt was five minutes late, after which he spent a further five minutes apologizing for it and lecturing them all on the importance of punctuality, as well as striving for excellence.
"In other news, my beloved performers (and assorted other no-less-valued staff), it appears that I, Kurt, am again the proprietor of the circus." Kurt waited expectantly. And waited. Gonko figured out why, stood and applauded gustily, followed by Rufshod, JJ, and Doopy. Kurt blushed, swished a paw at the air. "Now, now, remain calm. So, a few new ground rules. One, the clowns are officially Management's favorites. Be advised that in any inter-performer conflict, the clowns shall be default beneficiaries of every judgment call and or property dispute slash damages claim, until further notice. Two, should the clowns require any remedial massage treatment and or sexual favor from any other employee, it shall be given freely and with good cheer, with any who break this protocol answerable to me—Kurt Pilo—and my horrendous punishment apparatus. Three, if it would amuse any of the clowns to see other performers inflict self-harm, the clowns may request this service of any employee, and it must be delivered within twenty-four hours, provided it does not impact upon one's ability to perform on show day. Four, general groveling toward the clowns is henceforth encouraged, with the added proviso that should a clown snap his fingers, all within earshot must at once provide said clown a sincere compliment—sarcasm shall be punished. Any questions?"
Goshy stood up and screeched like a barn owl til the others wrestled him down.
"Very good," said Kurt. "Oh! I had a phone call. Surprise, everyone! Today is a show day." A groan passed through the audience. Kurt remained smiling, but his eyebrows angled downward. "Now, now. Turn those groans to moans. At once. There have been difficulties of late. Today, we strive for excellence! You must all remember what brought you into circus work, and recapture that spirit of enslavement. I expect the utmost professionalism. Do it in memory of my dear brother George—a fine show is just what he would have wanted." Kurt wiped away utter dryness where a tear may otherwise have been. "Which brings me to one final point. There has been some mischief of high order. George's show was sabotaged! This must shock you as much as it does me. Be strong! We must get to the bottom of what happened to George's show. A thorough investigation will be launched in the coming days. Every employee shall be interviewed at length. Large rewards and amnesties are offered for squealers and tattle-tales. If you have a suspicion, rumor, or conspiracy theory, you must tell my secretary, and she will compile a list for my perusal. A large ‘culprit cage' will be constructed to prompt the guilty into a state of increasing terror.
"Thank you all for your warm welcome back to the Pilo Family Circus. I shall now end the meeting and stalk out."
With that, the meeting ended and Kurt stalked out.
•
Somehow Gonko managed to keep his poker face on til they got back to their tent. Rufshod was in his ear the whole way: "What the hell was all that? Didn't he know? He musta known! You said he knew, right?"
"Gosh, I'm mighty confused," said Doopy while Gonko paced back and forth, shaking his head in bewilderment. "‘Cause, see, the boss says we're super duper, but then says we done did bad! Which what did we done do what that was bad good, Gonko?"
Gonko stopped pacing, eyed the card table. "Just when I fucking think . . . that I understand that big sack of weirdo dog shit . . ." The card table was then severed into several much smaller card tables. Rufshod dashed off to find a replacement.
"Gee-whiz," said Doopy.
"I like the sexual favors part," said JJ. "Does that apply to us? I mean, if I said to Doopy—"
"We gotta find out what gives here," said Gonko. "I'm gonna go see Kurt. The rest of you rehearse an act for today and make it good."
•
The culprit cage construction was already begun—a group of nervous carnies had found a platform and were measuring for cage bar holes around its edges. Kurt was gnawing on a human-looking femur when Gonko entered his trailer. "Come in, come in," Kurt said cheerily. "Mandible? They're fresh." he shook a jar one quarter full of yellow teeth—some of them still attached to chunks of pink gum.
"New collection, boss? Looking good," said Gonko, taking one out of politeness.
"What can I do for you, Gonko? Has a sarcastic compliment been given?"
"Nah, boss, it's just . . . I had to ask . . . you see . . . hate to look a gift horse in the mouth, but . . . why exactly are we clowns getting the royal treatment?"
Kurt sighed. "I did not much enjoy my time in the freak show, Gonko. It was a pleasure to watch Dr. Gloom's exemplary conduct, but the worst part was being poked with a stick. There were also several hurtful remarks. Tell me, Gonko, do you think I am an ‘ugly ass butt?'"
"Crazy talk, boss."
"Hm, yes, but that's what one freak show guest called me, right after three very firm pokes. Although it was under George's instruction, every employee poked me. But not you, Gonko, nor your underlings. I knew that should I ever manage the circus again, the clowns would be my temporary favorites for a good while."
"Aha. I see."
Kurt linked hands and leaned forward over his desk. "Isn't life funny sometimes, Gonko?"
"What d'you mean exactly, boss?"
"I remember when we were together below. And you asked a rather prescient hypothetical question, about what may happen if George failed to cut the mustard. And lo and behold! No mustard was cut."
Gonko swallowed, turned his poker face thoughtful. "I guess life just is funny sometimes, boss. But it looks like fishy business to me. Got any leads on the sabotage case yet?"
"Mm, several! My secretary has been meeting with dozens of eager performers, taking down notes. I shan't have time to review them today, for we're doing a show—how exciting! Tomorrow perhaps, or perhaps after I conduct the first wave of interviews."
"Good thinking, boss," said Gonko, edging to the door. "I'll keep my eyes peeled too. So anyway, I better go rehearse. See you, boss, it's great to have you back."
"Catch you later, Gonko."
•
The rehearsal did not go well, mainly because Goshy refused to join in on any sketch or gag. Instead he kept one stiff arm pointed at Jamie the whole time; from his mouth came mute gum flaps, kettle sounds, sharp tropical birdcalls, and phlegmy warbles. Each outburst seemed to get him more worked up. "What's that, Goshy?" said Doopy. "Jamie's secretly planning to what? Jamie and Deeby's gonna destroy who? Jamie's gonna . . . he's gonna . . . he's gonna fetch us all a bowl of popcorn?" Doopy crash tackled Jamie, apparently from sheer gratitude, crawling over him til they were nose to nose and Jamie's world filled with stale hotdog breath. "That's so neat," said Doopy. "I just can't wait to taste it, Jamie. You really shouldn'ta."