And so, the final vote gives us: Tutus, while Dean wears the suit!
CHAPTER TEN
What is a circus?
The answer to that is: it depends.
The idea of entertainment spectacles featuring exotic animals and human feats goes back to ancient times. People of all social ranks could enjoy a bit of gladiatorial bloodshed and goggle at improbable beasts procured from distant corners of the world. Most of the audience would be of the lower social ranks, and it would provide a gory, welcome distraction from the brutal grind of their lives. On a really good day, you might get exotic animals doing the bloodshedding, on each other or possibly on Persecuted Minority Of The Week, which was not only jolly good fun, but allowed the squalid masses to console themselves that their lives might be brutish, nasty and short, but the people currently being pursued by lions, bears or elephants (that admittedly aren't actually carnivorous but when frightened enough can trample a human pretty amusingly) were definitely living lives that were, right then, nastier, brutisher, and a lot, lot shorter. And, if elephants were involved, quite a bit flatter.
The novelty and/or shock value of the unfamiliar and potentially injurious is still there as an unacknowledged (because that would be uncivilised) but vital component. The circus is one of the few places where it's all right to point and laugh. In these more enlightened times, wild animals that have no place being kept domestically have been largely phased out, and the bloodshed is largely absent, give or take the odd animal keeper who gets mauled by his or her own charges. However, when that happens, it certainly counts as the highlight for many of the audience, even if they won't admit it out loud. It's a large part of why people watch the trapeze, the high wire, the acrobatics, the chainsaw juggler; we want to see you slip and fall, dislocate you dignity, or cut off your own arm.
Even 'children' 's circuses, which have largely had all the most amusing potential for medical mayhem bowdlerised away, can still offer this sort of entertainment. A school excursion to a circus may give kids an opportunity to see a strong man act, or acrobats, or performing animals, or bicycle stunts, but when they get back to school and are required to describe their favourite part of the excursion by drawing pictures or writing short stories about My Trip To The Circus, they will write 'One of the horses did a wee and it went for a long time and it splashed and it had a really big willy and one of the other horses sniffed it yuck gross', or draw a remarkably anatomically correct picture of said horse doing said wee (and possibly adding audience members running, swimming or surfing for the exits, if the child is particularly prone to exaggeration).
Given the reality that everyone likes a good giggle at something that is nasty, brutish and short (or, in the case of a horse doing a wee, long), it is something of a puzzle as to why dog acts remain so popular. They offer no real potential for gut-busting schadenfreude, although a clued-up dog trainer will incorporate an artificial measure of it by using a couple of 'failure' tricks, and maybe teaching one dog to leg-hump enthusiastically on command. What they offer is a view of dogs and humans, two species that co-evolved over thousands of years, working together.
Dogs have worked with humans as hunters, herders, guards, warriors, draft animals, and in later history, law enforcement, rescue and assistance. Wherever a dog has willingly done the bidding of a human, it would be crude to describe the relationship as master and servant, for that does not capture the eagerness of the servant to please, or the delight the master takes in praising a job well done. For a dog to work, there must be a close relationship between human and dog, not master and servant, but devoted companions of the same Pack. It is not too strong to use the word love.
We humans can only marvel at the dedication, teamwork and humility that dogs manage so effortlessly.
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"Why must I be at the base of the tower, you foolish humans?" demanded Michael. "I am eldest, Father's general and chosen successor! As the symbol of humility before God, I demand to be at the top!"
"I was His most dear, the Morningstar, brightest and most beloved of the Host, now raised once more into His sight!" insisted Lucifer. "I should be at the top! Surely even you flawed sons of Adam can see that?"
"I am the healer, the hope of frail mortal humanity!" yapped Raphael, spinning around on the spot a couple of times, "I have walked among them, offering succour and encouragement and the benevolent love and compassion of the Host to you disgusting squishy mud-monkeys! Profferers of pizza morsels excluded of course," he nodded to Sam, "But for this, I should be at the top!"
"I'm related to idiots," sighed Gabriel. "Come on, it's blatantly obvious that I'm the cutest! AND I can stand on my hind legs! What do you say, Tweedledum and Tweedledumber, I get top billing, yeah?"
"We can just explain it to them," Sam muttered mutinously back at Dean, "We can just explain to them what the tricks entail, and then they can do them. Any other famous last words before you change your name to Cesar Milan?"
Dean glowered at the four yapping canines, hanging on to his fraying temper. "Look," he began through clenched teeth, "When you build a tower of anything of varying sizes, be it beer glasses, cheerleaders or dogs, you put the largest ones at the bottom, and the smallest ones at the top, or the whole thing falls over. Which means that you, Michael, are at the base of the tower, because none of the others want to be squashed by your relatively gigantic puggy ass, okay?"
"You are the most senior," Sam quickly cut in, "Dependable and reliable, so you are the foundation on which the whole thing relies. You are the strength and support. Raphael must be next, still close to the Earth, to symbolise his... healing benevolence. Gabriel has to be towards the top as Messenger of the Lord, who announced the coming of Christ and foretold his reascension, and Lucifer, who Fell but has been offered a chance to redeem himself, goes at the top, to demonstrate God's infinite love and forgiveness for all, if they will just allow Him to raise them from sin." He paused. "Plus, while you're here, you really do have to obey the laws of gravity like everybody else, and technically it's your Father's law." He looked hopeful.
The archpooches considered this explanation.
"Very well," nodded Michael, bracing his legs. "Raphael, please be careful where you place your feet."
"Nice going, Samsquatch," snickered Gabriel. "If only Father had had you to pull his angels into line."
"Shut up, Gabriel, you're next," humphed Sam.
"I am not certain that I can do this," whined Lucifer, looking at his brothers balanced one atop the other. "It seems a long way up from here."
"Of course you can!" insisted Dean. "You're more rat than dog. Rats can run up walls, so you can run up a dog stack."
Lucifer tried a couple of times, falling just short of making the distance.
"How's the Cirque du So Lame coming along?" asked Bobby, eyeing Lucifer's efforts dubiously as the Chihuaha backed away to take a longer run-up. He ran full tilt at his brothers, scrambled to the top – and promptly fell off the other side.
"Actually, that's pretty funny to watch," Bobby remarked, "You might want to have him try and fail a few times before he actually gets there. You'll need a gimmick, something that makes your act different."
Lucifer's little ears drooped, and Sam almost felt sorry for him.
They were interrupted by a car pulling into the yard. Sheriff Jody Mills got out and waved.
"Aha!" Bobby clapped his hands together happily, "Gentlemen, your wardrobe mistress is here!"
"Wardrobe mistress?" echoed the Winchesters.
"Bobby called me last night, and said you needed some help getting a dog circus act together for one of your jobs," she explained, hefting a sewing machine box out of the car as she eyed the aspiring troupe. "So, who do we have here?"
"Archangels," Bobby told her bluntly, "Like I told ya, sent here by their Father, to learn to behave 'emselves."
"The pug is Michael, he's a total kick-down-kiss-up asshole," Dean explained, "The French Bulldog is Raphael, the most arrogant asshole known to the cosmos, the Jack Russell is Gabriel, a coward and passive-aggressive asshole who likes dicking with other people's lives for the fun of it, and the rat with a collar is Lucifer, Lord of Hell, the most evil fucker in all of Creation and a complete asshole."
Jody handed him her machine, and hunkered down. "Oh, I think they're just adorable!" she smiled to the dogs as they clustered around her curiously. "Is Dean being mean to you?" she asked Lucifer, scratching him under the chin.
"Yes, yes he is, madam," Lucifer whuffed, his eyes half closing.
"Extremely mean," yipped Michael, pushing his head under her hand.
"He derides us and calls us names," whined Raphael, big brown eyes appealing for pats.
"Would it be okay if I shoved my nose into your crotch?" panted Gabriel.
Bobby sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he and the Winchesters seemed to be the only ones who could understand the archpooches.
"Aren't they friendly little things!" Jody went on. "Come on, let's get inside," she picked Lucifer up and snugged him into the crook of her arm, "And start measuring the stars up."
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"Where exactly did you learn to sew dog constumes?" Sam asked, as Jody ran the machine, Lucifer sitting in her lap.
"I used to make the calisthenics and school play costumes for my nieces," she explained. "My sister can't sew. After fitting squirming whining children out as bumble-bees, hula dancers or fairies, small dogs are easy. There you go," she tugged the small shiny vest onto Lucifer, "Trot around and make sure you don't trip over your tutu." Lucifer scrambled to obey. As soon as he'd moved, Gabriel leaped to take his spot.
"You next, huh?" she asked him, scratching his ears. "Okay, let's get you measured up."
"I'll roll over, and if you scratch my belly, I'll give you something to measure," he panted.
"Hey, how are you getting on with your suit?" Sam shouted up the stairs.
A crash and a cry of "Sonofabitch!" was the only reply.
"Er, you need some help up there, bro?" Sam asked tentatively.
"No, Sam, I do not need any help," Dean snarled back, "What I need is for you and Bobby to see what a lousy idea this is!"
"We need a gimmick," Sam argued, "Just like Bobby said, a hook, and I think this is it."
"You're so keen, you can wear the damned suit! Ow!" Dean yelled back.
"It won't fit me," Sam pointed out again, "Jody's brother-in-law was your height, not mine..."
"Come on down, son," instructed Bobby, "And we'll see if it needs adjustin'."
"If any of you laugh at me, I will end you," grumped Dean.
"Maybe she can sew his mouth shut," Sam muttered, sotto voce.
Jody was just measuring Gabriel for his tutu when Dean walked into the living room wearing the suit.
The dog suit.
He had big floppy ears, a long floppy tail, and a very, very pissed off expression.
Sam, Bobby and the four dogs began to laugh.
"Oh, God, Dean," Sam wiped his eyes, "That's... that's... priceless!"
"I've always thought of you as a guy who had a fondness for doggy style," grinned Bobby.
"I am suddenly grateful that I have not taken my human vessel!" Michael whuffed.
"Oh, Father!" yapped Lucifer in amusement, "He looks just as silly as a dog as we do, brothers!"
"Even more so!" yipped Raphael, spinning around on the spot.
"Plus, we're a whole lot cuter," panted Gabriel, tail wagging in amusement.
"I fucking hate you all," Dean growled.
"Of course, it's not finished yet," Jody commented, pulling a small cosmetic case from her sewing bag and approaching Dean. "There!" she said, satisifed, having coloured in the end of his nose black. "Much better! Now, come over here Dean," she instructed, "I need to measure you. Arms up!"
"Actually, if I have to wear it, it's a pretty good fit," Dean sighed with glum resignation, lifting his arms. "I don't think it needs alteration."
"I agree," Jody nodded, putting the measuring tape around his waist, "So I'm just measuring you for your tutu."
Fresh gales of hilarity erupted in the living room. Gabriel began to hump Jody's leg, and panted,
"If I can persuade George Clooney to let me use him as a vessel, will you marry me?"
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"Come on, Lucifer, third time's the charm!" encouraged Jody. Lucifer backed up, waggled his rump in the air, and launched like a small furry tutued missile at the waiting dog stack, where Dean, on hands and knees, had the other three archcanines balanced atop him.
"Run, Lucifer, run!" called Michael.
"Soar Heavenward, brother!" yipped Raphael.
"Shag dat ass, Luci!" ruffed Gabriel.
"Come on, you little asshole, some of us are getting cramp here, already," muttered Dean.
The speeding Chihuahua hit Dean's extended leg like a getaway car hitting an exit ramp, launched up the stack, tutu flying, scrabbled for purchase, and...
"You did it!" yelled Jody, as Lucifer found his feet and balanced precariously atop Gabriel, whose wagging tail threatened to dislodge him.
"I did it!' barked Lucifer, his own tail wagging furiously. "I did it!' In excitement, he stood up on his back legs and spun around on the spot.
"Be careful brother!" yapped Raphael, "Do not fall! You are small, and mortal!"
"Actually, that's a really good trick," commented Sam, "Can you do that again?"
"I can do it!" Lucifer trilled, spinning like a demented top, as his brothers barked encouragement.
"You know what would look really good?" suggested Bobby. "If you guys jump off Dean one at a time from the bottom, while Lucifer keeps spinning. Can you do that? Raphael, you'd have to sort of jump, give Michael a bit of clearance, then land on Dean... okay, well done, now you, Gabriel, do the same thing... good job! Now, watch your footing, Lucifer, while Gabriel jumps off..."
Finally, Lucifer stopped spinning and sat on his haunches on Dean's back, paused, then jumped off.
"Oh, you were all wonderful!" enthused Jody, hunkering down as the small dogs ran to her.
"Perhaps we could have more pats now?" suggested Michael, his head butting at her hand.
"I should very much like to try the belly rub that Gabriel enjoyed earlier," whuffed Lucifer, falling to the ground with his legs in the air.
"I should like to try a belly rub too!" confirmed Raphael, following suit.
"Belly rubs all round, barkeep!" barked Gabriel, falling to the ground with his brothers.
"Oh, you are just going to be the most adorable act ever!" she told them, rubbing at the proffered little doggy bellies, while the archcanines whuffed and squirmed with enjoyment.
"If I didn't know what arrogant assholes they are, I'd say they like you," chuckled Bobby.
"Yes, yes, we do," humphed Lucifer contentedly. "For a human, she is entirely tolerable."
"Hey, Jody," said Dean, "If I fall on the ground and put my legs in the air..."
"Don't even go there, mister," she told him, "You are not cute enough."
"Cute?" asked Dean in a hurt voice. "I'm not just cute, I'm adorable!"
"No, we are adorable," Raphael whuffed smugly. "You are ridiculous."
"That is your function in this act, to be the focus of derision," agreed Lucifer.
"But you were really good at it," Gabriel told him.
"You are very convincing as a human pretending to be a dog," added Michael loyally, feeling that he should say something in support of his vessel, "And I am sure that your brother can devise some ways to include you in our act that is within your capabilities."
"Woof woof, you make me feel so special," grumped Dean.
"I've got some more ideas here for tricks," Sam said, picking up a note pad. "There's one that I think will look really good, using a barrel. We can punch out the bottom of this old fuel drum, then paint it up. You take turns pushing it, or walking on top of it to roll it along, while one of you runs backwards and forwards through it. Then, Dean can have a turn, and get 'stuck', and you can all roll the barrel along with him spinning around inside it."
"Perhaps first of all, we could make a show of trying to push or pull him out of the barrel?" suggested Michael. "Since, for comic effect, he is supposed to be stuck."
"That's a wonderful idea, Michael!" beamed Sam, while Michael looked pleased with himself and Dean looked fratricidal. "We should practice having two of you 'push' and two of you 'pull'."
"Oh, I can't wait," muttered Dean, as Bobby chortled, and went to find a pair of metal snips to take the end off the fuel drum. "This is going to be a laugh a minute... oh, hey, look at this! You assholes need your nails clipped! One of you dicks has put a hole in my tutu!"
For Dean in his dog suit, I get a mental picture of Wilfred: httpCOLONSLASHSLASH wwwDOT sbsDOT comDOT au/shows/wilfred
Reviews are the Belly Rubs with the Winchester Of Your Choice in the Circus Of Life! (tutus optional).