In the backstage of a circus tent, the many bright lightbulbs illuminated a sullen man sitting at a makeup mirror. Jet black from head to toe, he leaned against the desk while faint music and applause underlaid the quiet.
"Hi. I don't know how much time I have, so here's the deal: I need some exposure fast. I've been sneaking out of the train the past few shows to get some experience fighting, but-"
A loudspeaker crackled with feedback. The man froze up.
"Oh no."
"ALRIGHT, FOLKS!" The voice over the loudspeaker shouted. "STAY IN YOUR SEATS BECAUSE WE'VE GOT ANOTHER PERFORMANCE COMING RIGHT UP FROM OUR CONTORTIONIST-ACROBAT MUCK!"
Muck leaned in, hands on his knees. "I know I don't have crazy superpowers or enchanted weapons like some of those other guys, but I'm gonna be honest: I don't even care if I win."
The loudspeaker crackled again. "Muck, we said you're up!" The roar of the crowd had now given way to confused murmuring.
Muck stood up and lifted the camera. "Look, I just need my name somewhere more people will see. If that means taking a few bruises, then fine. I've had worse in this joint already-"
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Muck screamed and dropped the camera. After hitting the ground, it laid sideways watching Muck and another person in dress pants and shoes peeking in through a curtain.
"STOP MESSING AROUND WITH THE CAMCORDER! WE NEED YOU OUT THERE!"
"I'm sorry, sir! I'll be there right away!"
"YOU'D BETTER!"
With that, the ringleader left. Muck sighed and curled up on the ground. His whole abdomen wrapped around his head until he looked like a ball on legs with a single arm poking out.
"Help me," he whispered to the camera and waddled off through the curtain.
Tape end.