A/N: For some strange reason, Quickedit won't work. So if, like in Chapter 3, make any references to things that aren't there, just ignore them, or try to imagine where they would go. It's also why nothing is in italics or bold anymore. PS: if this chapter seems over-descriptive, it's meant to be that way. It's in real-time.
And thank you to Ash-of-Evenstar for telling me that Krakatoa is in Indonesia! (I've never really paid much attention in geography…!)
C h a p t e r Six
The lights are dimmed. As sinister music, in a minor key, plays, a hooded figure, cloaked in the shadows, comes out of the beaded curtain. A dozen more of these follow out behind it, forming a semicircle, facing the audience. They seem to chant a baleful poem, – the word 'baleful' here means 'menacing' – in time to the music:
"We hope you enjoy the show at
Fun festival today,
Where all manner of cold, dark creatures
Come, nestle here, and play.
First there are the Batting Bats,
Whose screech will pierce your ears,
And maybe playing baseball
Will heighten your worst fears.
Then there is the Wolf-Man,
Who detests quiet noises.
He'll scream at one hundred decibels,
In one hundred different poises.
Believe us, there are many more
Who take pride in seeing your fear.
But don't scream when they scare you:
'The world is quiet here.'"
After this poem has finished, the carers of the Batting Bats release their creatures around the tent, to create a distraction, while the howls of the Wailing Wolf-man fill the ears of the audience. The bats clear, amid the shrieks of pain from the audience, to show that the hooded figures have gone, and the Wolf-man, standing in his prime, has replaced them.
Brown and furry, standing on his two hind feet, yet far from cute and cuddly, the Wailing Wolf-man has been silenced by the two people circling the edge of the ring, feeding him scraps of meat. A piece of meat is given to a member of the audience, who holds it, trembling with fear. One of the guardians of the Wolf-man whispers something in the ear of the audience member, as the Wolf-man himself stops in his tracks around the ring, sniffs the air, then scampers menacingly towards the meaty source of the scent. Leaf-like, yet elegantly, the petrified audience member throws the meat into the ring, where the hairy, brown beast catches it mid-fall. As it is chewing, the two strong, burly men who have been circling the ring seize it by a leg and an arm each.
The Wailing Wolf-man wails, bites, and thrashes about, clamping its jaws down on whatever it can, and any discarded limbs are left there, bloody and dripping. As the audience watches this grim spectre, breaths are held and gasps are emitted. Of course, these limbs are prosthetic. The Wailing Wolf-man is trained enough not to kill. But the audience are not aware of these facts. They only are the gazers, watching from behind a large wooden barrier, feeling safe, yet unconfident. Eventually the Wolf-man is dragged offstage, behind the beaded curtain, and the audience breathes a sigh of relief.
As Marvolo the ringleader comes out of the beaded curtain, a shower of applause breaks out, and he, the ringleader, equipped with his long red coat and tall bowler hat, takes a bow. As he does this, he lifts the bowler hat off his head – and scuttling out, is a magnificent tarantula!
Young ladies scream and, standing, pull their skirts up a bit in fear, as if there were a nasty rodent about, while the men just laugh hollowly and comfort them.
"Welcome, welcome!" the ringleader shouts in his booming voice, making the dust rattle. His voice is deep and dark; radiating fear, yet has a joyous quality, with a slice of laughter. "We hope you have enjoyed the first act of the Abnormal Animals show." he fixes his gaze onto the spider; it stops, and a shimmering blue neon light glows around it. Rising up a few feet into the air, it hovers there for a few seconds, before flying back towards the ringleader, whilst completing a full twist, a double back flip and somersault, all before landing right into his open mouth! Marvolo closes his mouth, shuts his eyes, as though bracing himself, then swallows the spider whole! There is a moment of tense suspense as the audience gasps, screams, and retches. Marv the ringleader stands up straight, and the audience all start to laugh as the spider is seen, as a small lump, crawling down his trouser leg, then out through the bottom, near his shoe! The audience claps, and the ringleader himself chuckles menacingly as he scoops the spider up in his hat, and replaces it on his head. "Here at the Fun Festival: Abnormal Animals Show, we like to scare our audiences witless. But what's the good in scaring people without having a laugh, eh? We have reached 'j' so far in our Abnormal Animal Alphabet, so, to start act two off with some humour, give it up for the Jiving Jaguar!"
There is another quick burst of applause, and a disco ball is lowered from the tight rope by the tight rope walkers, just as a jaguar, standing on its two hind feet, wearing an afro wig, seventies shirt and trousers, and five-and-a-half inch platform shoes, appears from behind the beaded curtain. A disco beat starts to play, emanating from somewhere within the ring, and the jaguar starts to dance. Wild dancing, fast dancing, dances that haven't been seen yet. The disco music comes to a sudden halt, and so does the Jiving Jaguar. He pauses, confused, until a slow waltz comes on. Off come the disco clothes and wig, and to everybody's surprise, there is a proper tuxedo underneath! The audience laughs, then applauds. As the jaguar has no one to waltz with, it mimes dancing with thin air! Suddenly, a resounding bang, like a gunshot, shakes the tent more than the ringleader's voice. The calm music stops, and the jaguar scampers off in fear, as smoke unfurls from beyond the beaded curtain. Everybody gasps.
"Fire!" shout some people, but it is not a fire. Numerous are looking for the source of the sound, cautiously looking for any trace of a gun. A rustle is heard in the shadows, but nobody knows what it is. BOOM! Another bang echoes throughout the air. This time, it is heard from the back, behind a group of girls, who scream, jump up, and turn around in fear. But there is nothing behind them. Instantly, as they turn, a rope, with a strange grey creature clinging onto it, swings into the centre of the circus ring. As it swings, it emits more gunshot-like bangs, and a man in the front row cries out, as something cold, red, and sticky lands on his head. With a Tarzan-like cry, the crackling figure swings and lands in the centre of the ring. It is small, greyish-brown, and furry: a koala. Many girls squeal and gush in delight, as they have never seen a koala before. Not everybody believes that this tiny, harmless creature created all this chaos. But the audience members watch intently as the top of the koala's head starts to funnel out, turning into a conical shape. Slowly at first, then quicker, until at last, KA-BANG! A sea of red - apparently lava - flows sickeningly out of the koala's head, and a stream of smoke unfurls out afterwards. A person, obviously the koalas' carer, comes on stage, holding a baby koala. The girl is wearing a grey lead vest, to protect herself from the sticky red lava, of which the vest is already covered, from a fresh blow.
"These," she explains, in a distant, echoing voice, "are the Krakatoa Koalas, so called, because of their ability to act like the volcano-" she stops, as a fresh 'BANG' erupts again, and a new wave of lava covers the now grey, crusty ash on the girl's lead vest, "- Mount Krakatoa. This volcano, in Indonesia, produces the same slow-flowing, sticky lava. These creatures are really 'freaks of nature'."
The koalas' carer puts down the baby koala she is holding, and goes behind the curtain for a few seconds. She returns with a table, on it, a few lemons, a bowl, a roll of tissues, a sieve, and a bottle of the lava.
"The lava of the Krakatoa Koala is highly useful," she continues. "You may find, that if you run the lava through a sieve –" she picks one up "-that you will get carbonated - a word which here means 'fizzy' - water." She demonstrates this, and as she does so, a large amount of clean, clear, bubbling water splashes into the bowl beneath. "Pure as filtered water, cleaner than bottled water. This can be drunk as sparkling water alone, or as lemonade, if you squeeze some lemon into it. Voila!" she proclaims, as she pours some ready-squeezed lemon juice into the bowl. "You can find many different flavours, served as refreshments," she concludes, "during the interval."
She takes a bow, and scurries off the stage with her props, and the koalas following close behind. The audience applauds, and murmurs of approval are heard, scattered; yet there is the odd mutter of "absolute codswallop," here and there.
Out comes the ringleader, clapping his hands as he walks. "As this is quite a short show, we shall conclude with our final act, the Passionate Piranhas!" The audience applauds once again, as a giant fish tank, covered with a cloth, is wheeled out from behind the beaded curtain, and Marvolo goes back behind the curtain. The person pushing it cannot be seen, however; she is very young: at least three years old. She steps out from behind the fish tank, and addresses the audience. Many spectators go 'awww', as she steps out from behind the tank. The miniscule - a word which here means 'tiny'- girl speaks to the audience with a sweet, high-pitched voice, yet her words have the drone of those that have been memorised and repeated over again.
"You may know that piranhas have the potential of being the deadliest fish in the world; of course, after the shark."
There is a murmur of agreement from the audience as this fact is spoken. She continues,
"Well, meet the Passionate Piranhas: small, sharp-toothed fish -" she uncovers the fish tank, to show a swarm of piranhas, crowded around a piece of meat in the centre, "- that wouldn't hurt a fly." As she finishes her sentence, the fish all swim away from the meat, leaving it there, suspended, colouring the water a deep, blood red. Mutters flutter through the benches, and the audience seems to increase its interest in these angelic fish.
"Could a person from the audience kindly participate in a demonstration?" the little three-year-old girl asks in her sweet voice.
Nearly all hands in the audience go up, charmed by the adorable tiny toddler. Finally, a person, a tall man, in a black suit, a bowler hat, with a nasty cough, and by the name of Mr. Poe, is chosen. He strolls down the stairs, accompanied by one of the circus guards, coughing at irregular intervals. Mr. Poe, the Baudelaires' financial advisor, finally arrives in the centre of the ring, and the audience wait with anticipation, what will happen next. The girl holds up one of the piranhas from the tank, almost fully climbing into it, and the audience fears for her safety. She holds it up to Mr. Poe, who is told to extend a finger to the fish, as you would do to a dog, like a sort of recognition process. The piranha, which amazingly is not squirming out of water, moves closer to Mr. Poe's finger cautiously, then bites it, like Sunny would, to a friend. The banker smiles, then pulls his finger away, and makes his way back to his seat, amid the applause of the audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen, kids and workers, thank you for watching, performing, and participating in tonight's Abnormal Animals act three!" Uncle Marv has come out of his little space at the back of the tent, to much applause, and wraps up the show. "It certainly has been a pleasure to present these – ah – animals to you, and we sincerely hope you have enjoyed the show. Once again, thank - "
But he is interrupted halfway through his speech as someone in the back row of the audience stands up – a worker -, and behind his round glasses, his eyes are wide with fear, and he shouts with a rough and low voice. He sounds very scared.
"A snake! Look out! The Incredibly Deadly Viper has escaped!"
At the mention of the words 'Incredibly', 'Deadly', and 'Viper', the audience too, jumps up in fear. To add to the picture, a small child, dressed in white, with a red ribbon in her hair, is crawling up to the snake, not deterred – a word which here means 'put off' – by all the commotion around her.
Little Sunny Baudelaire stops by the snake, staring at it with wide eyes. She pokes it once, as though testing how hard it is. Infuriated, the snake rears up and bears its fangs at Sunny. The tiny infant opens her mouth wide in shock, as the snake pounces on her and coils itself menacingly around Sunny's fragile body. Another person stands up in the audience: a tall girl, also with a ribbon in her hair, and as soon as the Incredibly Deadly Viper starts to wrap itself around the youngest Baudelaire child, she shouts:
"Good heavens! Whatever shall we do? The Viper will kill her for sure!"
At this, the people gasp in fright once again. Nobody moves, for fear of scaring the long, dark snake into biting the child. Everybody holds their breath as the sewer-pipe snake hangs poised over Sunny, ready to strike – but too late – the Viper dives, and bites the thrashing Sunny on the chin. Several faint, Violet gasps, and Klaus' screams grow rougher and lower, as he supposedly gets more apprehensive, a word which here means 'scared'.
But even as the spectators stare at the now motionless Sunny Baudelaire, the infant stirs before their eyes. Sitting up in one swift movement, she bites the snake on the nose; it recoils, allowing her to stand up properly and shout, "boo!"
As the entire audience breathes a sigh of relief, the two elder Baudelaires, Violet and Klaus, climb down the stairs to their sister. Once they have reached her, and the applause dies down, Klaus comforts the audience with the fact of the Incredibly Deadly Viper's name being a misnomer,
"Which means," Klaus continues, "a wrong name."
"It was chosen by a very famous herpetologist," explains Violet, "the late Dr. Montgomery Montgomery. In fact, it's so harmless, even our baby sister can play with it!"
"Snake!" cries Sunny, and everybody laughs. And to the audience's amazement, Sunny says, "thanks for watching!"
The lights are brightened. Everybody stands up and stretches, even though it was a short show. They all leave, and within ten minutes, the tent is empty.