Anon and the circus: ch1. and 2: Malformation

>Midwest
>Summer.
>Anon comes to the circus. He has the wind at his back and travel burning in his blood. He wants a job and he doesn't mind getting dirty.
>You approach the outgrowth of bright tents and blinking lights. Children dance around waving overpriced light up toys while parents follow, either to shoot the moment on their phones or gripe about the heat.
>You search for the adminstrators office. You suppose they have a circus-y name like RingMaster or Dung Mover Persuant. As you ponder this you discover you had purchased a corndog. Cursed marketing psychology...
>You feel a plonk on your shoulder.
>You turn and a moment later hear the laughter of children. You cannot find the culprit save for a red ball bouncing on your feet. You reach for the ball.
>Another ball strikes your presented buttocks. This time lightly drunk father's have joined in the laughter. You know this laughter, this is the laughter of humiliation and not the laughter of good times.
>There she was, a clown , a goat clown. She was laughing with the children. Her gestures grandiose like she was trying to show the children how to laugh at someone with extra effort.

>The goat clown
>Her fur is white save for painted stars and dots that serves as her clown makeup.
>Her horns are riddled with barbles and bells. She seemed to like waving her head and making them jingle. Her clothes are baggy and bright with alternating colors. Anywhere else she would be obvious but here she blends into seizure inducing background.
>"Sorry about that, thanks for being a sport!" She says as the children quickly lose interest, "You look like you're here on Serious Business!" She changes her tone for the last line to be deep and mocking.
>You blink to get on track, "I'd like to work here. I'm okay with traveling."
>"Do you have any talents?" She says. She has straightened up and seems more serious.
>"I'm a blue ribbon potato sculptor." You state with pride. That skill was your Ace in the hole.
>She responds sharply, "Well, that's not a skill. Completely useless."
>She went to far this time, your tuber sorcery had saved the farm several times. You had made the paper by presenting every presidential candidate (Republican) that visited the county with a commorative spud effigy.
>"Now you see here! I-Aaargh"
>She shoots water into your mouth with amazing pressure. As you struggle against the flow you realize she had bated you into this. The realization makes you want to shout sadly the thought of that makes you keep your mouth open longer, keeping you getting blasted longer, preserving your humiliation for afew more precious seconds.
>You finally shut your trap and cease the violent hydration. Your eyes are pointed like daggers, your heart is beating, your buttocks is sore. You've never wanted to put your hands around the neck of someone as much as you do right now.
>"Haha, got you! Really though, thanks for playing along. The boss office is the white trailer." She points to a white trailer.
>"I-I thanks." You wipe your face. Perhaps you are being a bit critical, you think. "My name is Anon. What's your name?"

>"I'm Dancy! My real name is Nancy but, you know... Clownsonas and all."
>"Oookay. Thanks." You excuse yourself from the conversation when she speaks again.
>"Hey, anon. Thanks for bringing me a corndog."
>You look down at your own corndog in confusion just in time to see her muzzle strike like viper. She pulls back, striping the dog from the stick.
>She waves at you as she skips backwards. Your dog still in her mouth.
>The interview went well, sadly they do not need potato sculptors regularly. So most of the time I'm...
>Straighty the Clown. My whole act is that I stand perfectly still while clowns play tricks on me. I think it's commentary on getting people to smile? Who knows.
>Yes, I spend most of my time with Dancy. The things I do to leave the farm.
---

>Starting my new employ as a amateur clown had me working with most of the staff and talent. As it turns out that the staff is infact the talent. When you are not performing you are setting up tents and booths, wiring lights, or selling swag. A sad reality is that the only way you were gifted with only one function at the circus was if you were really really good at it.
>The first two I worked with outside of a clown-capacity was Ode and Ada: The elephant twins. The two of them were strong enough that most lifting and peg pounding was done between the two of them. Apparently they were from Africa, immigrated to flee a bad situation they said. They both were uniquely friendly and always smiled except when Ada seemed to take a shine to a man, then we found out that Ode does not like men who like his sister...
>The other 'dedicated personnel' was a French acrobatics act that the Circus essentially partnered with to help bring them to the states. Everyone one of them was a bird although their lithe skinny bodies were beaten into a mold, a mold that made their exact species or even their actual gender irrelevant. They were "aile de danse." That was their entire being. On the upside, the web casting equipment and croissants they brought with them supposedly saved the circus.

>That left me and the rest of the clowns. Part time teamsters, part time carnies, most of the time assholes. There was a tight click of Fuggles, Muggles, and Chuggles who apparently were clown collage alumni. Every night I was run through paces of clowning. Not just things like exaggerated movements but next-level stuff. Weird Psyop stuff like how someone's mood averages out in a group or how a child responds to you indicates what kind of broken family he has at home.
>The most useful was more the stretching routines and how to do a gag on purpose to look like an accident and how to make an accident turn into something you did on purpose.
>At the bottom of this monkey barrel was me, Dancy, and Cheesers. The Cheesers were actually a family of mice: Five brothers, one father, and one sister. They were an acrobatic act that was demoted to clown when the Aile act came in and outclassed them. And I do mean clown. With each one being about a knee high they formed a routine where they all piled into one suit and form a giant person. Depending on how they stack their tiny bodies in there they can form a gestalt mouse-clown that's between seven to ten feet. It's like something out of a cartoon. Their favorite gag for them to engage a person and when they are not looking switch who has the 'head' position. Pop in, pop out. I suppose it's funny, but honestly the whole thing terrifies me. I get nightmares where I'm getting chased by a giant with rat heads pouring out of every hole... This might be the reason I haven't gotten to know them much.