A Piece of Ass. Part 5. The Sugar Plum Fairy
Then the circus came to town.
The first Corey knew of it was when, upon opening up Ginny’s Palace, he saw the flyer posted across the window.
Stephen Blackpool’s Circus
Elephants and Acrobats and Tumblers
Genuine Wild West Stage Show
The Fattest Man in the World
2 nites only
Tickets on the door
Out on the mudflats was the tent, framed by the tumbling sea and the towers of the Nuclear Power Facility and for a moment Corey thought of his mother’s fortune telling tent being carried off in a strong gale.
The previous night he had tossed and turned. His parents would be turfed out onto the street unless he came up with the readies and he knew only too well what desperate people could do.
His mum would start telling fake, irregular fortunes, pressing good wishes, great futures, into unsuspecting shoppers’ hands and his dad would beg for his job back at Consenting Adults!
Only because he was older now and had lost the defined spectacular thighs and tight butt he had had from his youth playing football, he would be designated top spot in the Jerkatorium, basically a large beer barrel with holes drilled in its sides, or chief sweeper of the Play Area which didn’t sound so bad except you had to do it in the semi-nude to a live Internet audience with the broom held in an irregular place.
Even touching Eli’s ass hadn’t helped because Eli wasn’t in a good place himself.
“Maybe we can disguise ourselves and steal the takings from the circus,” he mumbled, only half aware he was speaking out loud.
“From slot machines to bandits. One small step.”
Mermaid, behind him, was filling the Queen of Sheba, 1ps and 2ps cascading down onto the slowly moving shelves.
Friends now, she came and placed her arms around Corey’s waist.
“Or we could just go to the circus. Please. I’ve never seen an elephant.”
By seven o’clock that evening the tent was encircled by a ring of protesting fishermen. Their carefully written placards made claims regarding the bright lights of the circus frightening off the whelks, cod being scared to foreign waters by rounds of applause.
Earlier that day Corey had overheard them plotting all this in Ginny’s Palace, about how they were hoping to be bought off with free tickets and boxes of popcorn.
They’d done the same thing outside Johnny’s Peep Show when he’d gone 24 hours and it was just bad luck that they’d turned up on Gay Tuesday.
This time they would be onto a winner because even if the circus was gay it wasn’t like the clowns and chimpanzees would be doing anal.
That had been the deal breaker at Johnny’s Peep Show.
“Come on lads,” said Corey to the row of fisherman, tightly packed like sardines, “let us through,” and just like that they had parted.
Being in charge of the slots at Ginny’s Palace he had a special place in their hearts and they felt they owed him since he’d been unnecessarily clobbered by Raymond, not that that wasn’t sorted.
The following day Raymond had turned up with a tray of prawns and an offer of a blowjob. When Corey had turned down, politely, the latter Raymond had asked if Corey would like to give him one.
“What with the wife being busy with the sextuplets things are a bit barren at home and Gregorius, who I fish with, he’s a biter, know what I mean?”
Corey had laughed, told Ginny and Mermaid at supper, where they had laughed too and he had realised he was happy.
Now there was a thing.
Despite the fishermen, or maybe because of them, Saltburn-by-the-Sea having a population who liked a challenge, the circus tent was full.
During the show Mermaid got to see her elephant although Corey didn’t have the heart to tell her it was a pit pony with a prosthesis and a sprinkling of sugar icing and Corey got to forget his troubles for a couple of hours.
His favourites were the acrobats. With their lithe, bending bodies they made him think of Eli
Earlier that afternoon, seeing the lack of sleep in his eyes, Ginny had told him to take 60 minutes and he had gone down to his room and he had touched his ass, or rather Eli’s ass.
He had learnt that Eli had joined a secret ballet society. That they met in a former snooker club and performed pirouettes on the green baizes, ripped and torn with age. That Eli wore his brother’s cricket cup, his grandma’s slippers, stretched tightly over his huge feet and a tutu he had made by scrunching up bits of toilet paper and gluing them to a pair of his mother’s butchered tights.
That dressed up like this he looked somehow magnificent and that all the girls fancied him and offered him cigarettes to kiss them and to put his hand over their bras.
That he refused.
That instead he had got drunk and, horny and lonely, walked all the way across town, pas de chat, pas de chat,dressed like the Sugar Plum Fairy and had thrown stones up at fat Ronald’s window and that fat Ronald had stuck his fat ass out of the window and told him to kiss that.
That Kurt had found out.
That Kurt had got some mates together and taken Eli down to the quarry and beaten him with sticks and that afterwards he had been found by a dog walker who had called the paramedics and Eli had been taken to hospital and that when he woke up the doctor had told him he had lost an eye.
That he had shown him the eye.
That it had been skewered on a stick and that one of the paramedics had found it and brought it to the hospital.
That it was his if he wanted it.
That he didn’t.
That the whole thing had been filmed and put on the internet. That his dad had seen it. That his dad had learnt it was done because Eli was gay. That his dad had gone mad and thrown Eli out.
That Eli was homeless.
That he had made his way to The Capital City. That he was living in a toilet cubicle and that he was turning tricks to make a living.
That some men liked to put their dicks in his empty eye socket.
That he had started injecting.
That he wanted to forget everything, everything, EVERYTHING.
That life can really fuck you in the ass.
And in the eye.
Then the lights went out and came back on again and Stephen Blackpool, the Ringmaster, was there announcing that now they were going to see the Fattest Man in the World.
‘A man so fat he will take your breath away. And then eat it.
‘A man so fat you had better hold onto your seats for the very ground will shake in his presence.
‘A man so fat he eats an elephant every day for breakfast. A horse for lunch. A hippopotamus for dinner!’
Then the lights went out again.
When they came back on there he was;
The Fattest Man in the World
He had a fat head on a fat neck, fat fingers and fat toes. And, fattest of all was his fat torso, his fat globe of a stomach, that looked as big as a planet in the sky.
But it was the ginger hair sticking out at 90 degrees from his ears that made Corey sit up straight, lean forward.
He had seen that hair before.
‘For you, very good price.’
And it came to him, the encounter with man on the train, the who had the bum post cards of the French singers tacked to the inside of his jacket.
But how had he got so fat?
This question was answered when a boy in the seat next to Corey lent forward and picked up a bow and arrow left behind by the Genuine Wild West Stage Show, and fired.
The arrow performed a perfect parabola through the air before embedding itself in the far man’s side.
Then there was a high pitched faaarrrrrtttttiiiinnnnnggggg sound as the fat suit deflated.
Later, after the knocking over of the circus chairs, after the snapping of the circus tent’s guy ropes, after the chase through the streets, after the assault on the clifftops, and after Stephen Blackpool, the Ringmaster, giving up his pound of flesh, a partial refund on all tickets purchased, Corey knocked on the door of the caravan.
He wanted to ask something.
He had the beginnings of a plan.
‘For you, very good price.’
Bruises were already coming up on the fat man’s skinny body.
Corey explained what he wanted very succinctly.
“If you were selling, there must be a market. Tell me. Where do I go? In the land of bums, I’m telling you, I’ve got prime rib.”
Corey told Ginny he needed 48 hours. Then, for the first time since he had arrived, he went back to the train station.
This time he wasn’t heading South.
He was heading West, over the mountains.
West, where fortunes are made, and men are hardy.
Checking that his rucksack was nestled firmly between his feet Corey lent back and closed his eyes.
He couldn’t stop his smile.
He’d been sitting on a fortune all this time.
If only he’d known.
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky - The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy - https://youtu.be/Wz_f9B4pPtg