"Dad, are you serious?" Christopher asked later that day after coming home from work, his clothes grimy from hours of repairing vehicles and motorcycles. "You don't even know 'im!"

"Yes, I do," Jimmy replied. "He and I were in the freak show together way back."

"But how'd he find you?" his son asked.

"He still didn't tell me," Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. "He offered us two thousand dollars rent each month for living here, and he is going to work for us."

"Sounds like a fuck-job," Christopher sneered.

"Watch your mouth," his father said authoritatively. "We need the labor and honestly, I think he has a point. If anything, I'm his boss, now."

"I can see you guys hate each other," Christopher said, turning on the bathroom faucet to soak a washcloth. He took it to his face and scrubbed off his grime, working his way down his defined neck.

"Makes it easier for me, though," Jimmy said. "I'm getting his money, and he is working for free. Plus, if he does anything to hurt you, I'm kicking his ass out.I own this property, and he ain't gonna mess with me."

"I see your logic, but…what about mamma? Did she agree?" Christopher asked, his brown eyes staring out the bathroom doorway to his father as he continued to freshen up at the sink.

"I did talk to her," Jimmy said. "She seemed to not want him here, but then I talked her into it. It's more money for us, you know?"

Jimmy remembered just two hours earlier when Britta returned home from grocery shopping; as soon as all the bags were brought into the house, she asked who the red car belonged to. He sighed and looked her straight in the eye, explaining the situation as best as he could before she had a chance to protest.

"How did he find us?" she had asked.

"He won't tell me, and honestly, we need the money," Jimmy replied.

"I don't think it is a good idea," Britta had told him, putting the loaf of bread up in the cupboard with the newly-refilled tub of sugar.

"Britta, I know he's a jerk," Jimmy said, standing behind her and staring at the back of her golden blonde bun.

"Why do you let him stay?" she asked forcefully. "I will tell him to leave myself, if I have to. He's dangerous."

"I told him to stay away from Elina," the man told his wife. She gazed back at him with disbelief—why was he so biased?

"What about your sons?" she asked, staring back at him with the same incredulity that began seconds before.

"They're tough. They can fend for themselves. As for Annika, I don't worry about her," Jimmy said, going to the last full paper bag on the table and taking out a head of cabbage, a bag of carrots, and other things she had bought.

"That man may break them in half," Britta objected.

"Not if I call the cops, he won't. The second he lays a hand on anyone, he's out," Jimmy stated clearly. "Just think of the money and free labor we are going to get. Farmer's market is in another week and a half. He ain't getting any percentage of what we make this year. He's working entirely for free. That goes to show that I can turn tables on him for being a jerk back then." Britta sighed reluctantly, looking down at her clasped hands before staring up at her husband.

"Very well," she said.

That evening at dinner, the whole family sat in the dining room; Jimmy was at his head of the table, but Britta, who usually occupied the other end, sat diagonally from his to his right with Elina across from her. Next to the young, platinum-haired beauty was Annika, and across from her were Jules and Toby. Christopher sat next to his older sister, while the conjoined twins and Suzy sat closer to the end of the table, where Dell sat loading his plate with what was readily available on the table—peas, mashed potatoes, and even overfilling his bowl with the soup Britta made. Bette had a smile on her face upon trying the soup, which contained diced potatoes, onions, cabbage, and pieces of leftover ham she had kept in the freezer.

"It's delicious," she said cheerfully. "What kind of broth is this?"

"It was from the ham," Britta replied with a slight smile. Dell, who looked at the twins and how they had aged as one body, cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

"You girls sure have changed," he said, referring to the fact that their hairstyles, short, dark brown bobs held back with headbands, had not changed since the freak show was shut down. Now, Dot and Bette had signs of aging in their faces and hair with slight graying and wrinkling.

"Look in the mirror," Dot sneered coldly.

"And you haven't changed for sure," Dell said aggressively.

"Dell," Jimmy said, catching his attention. "You still didn't answer me. How did you find me?"

"Oh, the phonebook. Has your address in it. James Darling…" Dell trailed off before continuing. "12 Grant Pathway. Barnwell, South Carolina."

"Why go through so much trouble?" Jimmy asked, sipping from his drink while noticing Britta and Elina staring down the table at the frightening old man.

"Because I needed a place to stay, and now I have one," Dell said, stuffing his face with a big spoonful of mashed potatoes.

"Hey," Toby said across the table to his brother Jules, but Christopher stared at him as well. "Toss me a roll, will ya?"

"Little basket's right there," Christopher said, a smirk on his face as he pointed to the bread.

"Really?" Toby asked cynically, grabbing a warm, freshly-baked roll from the small basket that held them. He took a bite, and looked down at his food before washing down the bread with a swig of water. Dell then looked further down the table at Annika, who was eating her food quietly without any involvement in their conversation.

"And you," he began, his mouth full of food. "I'm sorry I called you a man. I bet you get that a lot though." The woman rolled her eyes, swallowing her food and taking a drink—her frizzy strawberry-blonde hair had still been wet from her bath earlier that day.

"It's ok," Annika said with slight arrogance, staring at him fiercely. He then proceeded to look at Britta and Elina, noticing their physical differences and similarities as mother and daughter. The young girl was definitely more beautiful, for sure, and he looked at the platinum, white-gold hair that set her apart from everyone at the table.

"You, girl," Dell said, snapping his fingers to get Elina's attention; Jimmy looked at Dell and rolled his eyes at his rude behavior. "I'm sorry I grabbed you too hard earlier." The girl did not answer, making him impatiently mad.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" he exclaimed, intimidating the girl enough to make her put her napkin on her plate and leave the table. Jimmy grunted, watching his daughter leave before glaring at the former strongman hatefully.

"Dell! Really?!" he exclaimed. Britta, shaking her head, rested her elbow on the table and leaned forward with her forehead in her palm. Toby's temper flared up as well, glancing over at the old man with disdain.

"Why'd you have to do that? Now, my lil' sister's upset," the young man said as he fixed his blond hair to get a better look at him.

"I only apologized, and if you were smart, you'd stop talking to me like that!" Dell hissed.

"I told you not to talk to my daughter, bub," Jimmy stated aggressively. "Don't make me kick you out."

"What the hell are you gonna do?" Dell retorted.

"Anything to make you leave, Dell! Don't make me do that!" he shouted.

Jimmy stormed out of the dining room to try and find his daughter, walking through a few rooms just to catch a glimpse of her anywhere he looked. He finally reached the living room to see her sitting on her knees in front of the fireplace with her palms facing out, her long, black eyelashes accenting her closed eyes as she concentrated enough to conjure a fire in its hearth. When it came into manifestation, it blazed outward toward the girl before the air in the room blew it back into the fireplace. Elina stared into the fire and the anger she channeled into it, feeling her body get warm as she felt the presence of her father sitting beside her.

"Elina?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

"Why did you agree to let him stay here?" she asked.

"Lots of reasons," Jimmy replied. "He will benefit us because…" He leaned in and whispered so no one, especially Dell, could hear him, "he is free labor and more money for us. He is paying us $2,000 each month just to stay here."

"He's mean," Elina said, a slight whine in her voice.

"I understand. I told him not to go near you or even talk to you, but he doesn't always listen," he said, looking into the fire his daughter created.

"I still don't see why he should stay here," Elina said fiercely. "There's a motel in town. Send him there. He won't bother any of us, and apparently you hate his guts."

"The farmer's market is coming up," Jimmy reminded her, looking into her fiery hazel-green eyes as he felt her long hair. "His rent amount, plus whatever we make from the sales of crops, will benefit us."

"After the farmer's market, he should leave," Elina dictated.

Later that night, Jimmy walked out to the front porch after most of the family had already gone to bed. As he took a cigarette out of his pocket, he opened the front door to see Dell plopped down on the top of the steps in the spot he usually sat in. Taking a breath, he lit his cigarette and the sound of the lighter caught the old man's attention.

"Hey," Dell said.

"We need to talk," Jimmy said, taking a drag as he took a seat next to the man. Dell narrowed his eyes at Jimmy, who dragged on his cigarette again while his brown eyes stared back.

"About that little girl of yours?" Dell asked, rubbing his wrinkled hand over his bald head wearily.

"Yeah, you scared her," Jimmy said, taking another slow drag.

"I said I was sorry," Dell answered arrogantly. "Besides, you shouldn't be the one to accept the apology."

"Elina's my pride and joy," he stated clearly, looking at Dell's blue eyes. "If anyone does something to her, they will pay."

"Buddy, if you wanna talk," Dell began, cutting in just after Jimmy completed his sentence, "let's do it over a drink."

"Uh…I don't know, Dell," he said hesitantly—he hadn't picked up a drink in years, and after his mother succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver, he stopped completely.

"What? Afraid?" Dell asked teasingly, shaking his head. Jimmy was reluctant, but whatever suited the occasion, he was up for it. What harm could a couple of drinks do?

"Fine."

In the heart of Barnwell was a small bar that Dell had driven by when coming into town, and Jimmy had walked or driven past it while taking the occasional trip to town for errands when Britta couldn't. The old man picked their seats at the counter, and as they sat, he ordered the bartender to give them a whole bottle of Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey and two shot glasses for them. Dell poured their glasses full, and Jimmy was hesitant to take a sip, and when he downed it in a single gulp, he grimaced and made a throaty sound, feeling the liquor burn on the way down.

"Ugh," he groaned. "I haven't had a drink in so long. I never was a huge drinker other than socially."

"You're a Mama's boy, aren't you?" Dell asked.

"Well, I stopped entirely after my Ma died. I didn't want to end up like her," he said.

"Men don't talk. They drink," Dell stated, looking at the all-too-familiar deformed hands on Jimmy. He had worn gloves the last time he saw him; where had they gone?

"Your gloves are gone, I notice," he said.

"Yeah," Jimmy said, pouring himself more jack. "Never really needed them after a while."

"Why?"

"At first, people in this town were jerks, but," Jimmy hiccupped, downing his second shot of whiskey, "then they came to realize that…we were there to stay. The people…who knew we were in a freak show…they died or moved away." Dell focused on the younger man's fused, abnormally large fingers and held out his own hand; Jimmy looked confused, looking at the old man strangely.

"Let me see your hands," he insisted.

Jimmy slowly lifted his left hand to the former strongman, who felt his fingers and how severely fused they were by calloused skin and other underlying tissues. Two of his fingers were even strangely separated on the top, allowing them to go separate ways. Dell then looked Jimmy straight in the eye, dead serious, and began to speak.

"I'm so glad you ain't ashamed anymore," he said. "But if anyone looks at you funny, I'll break their skulls."

"Unless it's a woman, right?" Jimmy wondered. This made them both laugh hysterically; he sounded so stupid for someone who was just getting started on his drinks.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" they both cackled in unison.

"You know, I remember when the troupe was up in Wisconsin for a couple shows," Jimmy recalled from his past. "We were doing so good that Elsa made us stay into the winter. It was fun at first, because us guys had never seen snow before, but then we had to keep going in the cold. I was wearing my gloves, I'll never forget…" He hiccupped. "We went hunting, caught a rabbit, skinned it, and made a coat for Jyoti. You know the covers of National Geographic with the African tribal warriors wearing fur? That's what she looked like wearing that coat." Dell and Jimmy laughed a bit, and he continued. "I loved that little broad."

"What happened to her?" Dell asked, taking another swig of jack. Jimmy refilled his glass and downed the shot without hesitation, feeling it get to his head.

"She…she died. Three years ago," Jimmy said.

"How?"

"Lung infection," he replied. "We were all pretty upset when…she was in the hospital and…for weeks we crossed our fingers. Poor thing died."

"Oh, geez," Dell said, refilling his glass for another shot.

"You know, that winter…" Jimmy continued. "I was just another guy wearing gloves. At least I could pretend, anyway."

The man with disfigured hands clutched his gut, immediately feeling nauseous after the couple strong shots he had with Dell. His throat burned slightly, but after having all those shots, it felt rather numb. He rose from his seat quickly and gave the old man a hollow look before running outside toward the alley way.

"What's wrong with you?" Dell asked.

"I'm gonna be sick," Jimmy replied, opening the door.

He scurried toward a metal trash can, putting his hand on the closed lid as vomit projectiled downward from his mouth; he gagged loudly as the sour-tasting liquor was forced out of his stomach, and Dell, who caught up with him, watched the younger man vomit without offering any help. Once he was finished, Jimmy wiped his mouth on his clean sleeve, looking at the old man with double vision and speaking in a distinct slur.

"I know who you are," he muttered, starting to cry from the intensified emotions and the burning sensation in his throat. Dell stayed quiet, his eyes widening as he listened.

"I could tell by the way Ma hated you," Jimmy added. "It's in the family…" His tone rose to sound aggressive. "The Toledo Lobster Clan!" He rose his deformed, lobster-like hands up to show him what he meant even if he was a drunken mess. "You gave me these."

As tears escaped Jimmy's warm, brown gaze, Dell looked at him in shock; it was a wonder how alcohol consumption could reveal so many things, even the fact that he was Jimmy's father. When he was a baby, Ethel threatened him at gunpoint to leave after having been caught trying to kill his infant son. Some time after, he married Desiree Dupree, a hermaphrodite with three breasts, and he reentered Jimmy and Ethel's life in 1952 to join Elsa's freak show. Now, it was 1979—hopefully the adage 'three times a charm' meant something to their father-son relationship.

"I wanna hear you say it," Jimmy continued, tears streaming down his face. "You're my father. Say it." Dell remained quiet, and a drunken Jimmy got more aggressive, gently hitting the man's large upper arms and shoulders. "You're my dad! Come on! Please! A-Answer me!"

"Yes, son," Dell finally said, a shocked look still on his face. "It's true."

"Dad," Jimmy slurred, falling into his father's arms to hug him. Dell nodded, patting his son's back as he cried into his shoulder. They shared a moment to connect with each other, and Dell let him go for a moment to try and put his arm over his shoulder to bring him to the car.

"I know I shouldn't be driving, but…we need to get you home," he said with concern.

"Halloween tomorrow!" Jimmy shouted. "You're a grandpa! Take 'em trick-or-treatin'!"

"They're kinda old for that, son," Dell replied.

Om…

In her Volkswagen trailer, Annika could not sleep—not only did racing thoughts of Audrey and the family race through her mind, but her mind in general was at a state of unrest. At half past three in the morning, she rolled a joint and smoked before lighting some incense and putting on sitar meditation music, settling herself on the floor Indian style as she breathed in and out slowly, tuning out whatever was there to distract her. However, she was not so lucky—the sound of two men singing boisterously outside caught her attention and took her out of her altered state of consciousness.

She stood up and tried to transition her mind before opening the side door of her Volkswagen to see her father and Dell, arm in arm, skipping about and singing loud enough to wake up everyone on the farm. Annika was clearly flustered, but maintained calm with the help of the ganja she had smoked. She looked over to the front door of the house, seeing her mother and Christopher come out to see what all the fuss was about.

"What in the world is going on?" Britta asked, pulling her bathrobe closer as her long, golden hair, loose from sleep, blew in the early morning breeze; it was still dark outside.

"It's 3:30 in the mornin'!" Christopher added. "You woke us up with your shenanigans!"

"Please, get to bed!" Britta pleaded loudly.

"I want the whole world to know!" Dell began, shouting loud enough to rouse Elina, Toby and Jules from the house. Annika walked out of her trailer, keeping the door open to let the light from within shine outside. "HE'S MY SON!"

"YEAH!" Jimmy shouted, his bodily movements a huge mess. Britta rolled her eyes, but was a bit scared to see her husband like this—she had never seen him drunk before. Dell then turned to Jimmy and spoke quietly, slurring his speech.

"Don't ever take shit from a woman," he advised mindlessly. "The next time you do, you hand your balls to them."

"I wanna keep my balls," Jimmy answered in a drunken slur.

"You hold onto 'em, son," Dell replied, making a hand gesture to his son before pushing him, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud impact; Jimmy didn't feel any pain but they both laughed hysterically. Britta rolled her eyes, Elina standing next to her as she ran her fingers down the length of her long, loose platinum hair.

"Mösstock," Britta sneered, walking closer.

"Is dad going to be ok?" Elina asked her mother in Swedish.

"I hope to God he will be," her mother answered.

"Let's get 'em in the house," Toby suggested, helping Christopher get their father back on his two feet again as they brought him into the house, making their way up the front steps, through the front door, up the stairs and to the master bedroom. Britta went upstairs to check on her husband, making sure he was laying on his side before removing his shoes and covering him with a blanket.

"I do not everwant to see you drunk like this again," she warned, her tone sharp and serious. Christopher and Toby had left the room and went back in bed, while Elina stoo in the doorway, concerned for her father.

"Goodnight," Jimmy slurred. The woman rolled her eyes—she didn't join him in bed for the rest of the night.