| Current mood: | hopeful |
| Current music: | Boston - More Than A Feeling |
And now for something....
Ladies and gentleman, I'd like to make a proposal.
Imagine, if you will, a circus. But not any old circus. For this circus has a deep dark secret, a secret so brought up from the bowels of hell that not even Krueger himself can stand to think of it. What could this secret be? Is it the past of the lion tamer, who tore his way up the ranks by killing his teacher? Or, perhaps, the bearded lady, who in fact, is just a man taking hormones to alter his voice. Maybe the clowns, who feed off the gluttonous people who come too close or overtstay their welcome or eat one too many corndogs. Don't forget about the midgets...enslaved children who run away from home to escape the tyrannical rule of their parents...
...the ringmaster himself. A man with such a muddled past that his story barely escapes above a rumor. They say he was born in a dungeon, a room with no light and his first cry was silenced by the crack of a rusty whip. They say his eyes are louder than his short, stocky movements, which are so rapid, yet calculated enough, that they can be anticipated but never predicted. The ringmaster speaks, yes, but only when he is called upon to do so. His voice never rises above a whisper, yet he always manages to spellbind the audience with his unkempt majesty and unruly personage.
The ringmaster does not welcome the crowd to "the greatest show on earth" nor does he stand and bark like some sort of everyday carnival worker. His circus is a tightly controlled one, from the human bullet down to the elephant feeders. When his whip cracks. it is echoed off silent walls and rushed through the tents like a cold and downtrodden gale. He is the master, he is their general. He instructs them on what to eat, how to dress, and who they are to be. He is the controller.
The twisted masses huddle in, day after day, week after week and finally, month after month. The ringmaster decides on what to run on each show in any given day. It is his show, after all. If the elephants aren't making enough profit, then he includes them on the auction block in the next town over. And he never leaves a backwater town with perpetuating some torrent affair with a trailer park girl he picks up over a meal of chicken and saltwater gravy...the ringmaster has many an illegitimate child across these territories. The women are often so ashamed, they do reveal the true parentage of their children, instead keeping it hidden like a buried treasure.
Be wary of the circus, my friends. The bearded lady, the midgets, the lion tamer, the cannabil clowns.
But do not ignore the ringmaster. He is your master, and in his arena, you become his slave.
*****
Holy poop! Color me Stephen King or what?
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