Shape of the Final Dog and Other Stories (9781101600665) Read Online Free PDF Page A

every day, she says. But the big attraction is this guy from Brazil. Calls himself the Swallower. Puts a live white rat in his mouth, swallows it, then puts a big snake in there that goes down his throat and swallows the rat. That’s a pretty good attraction, I say, a swallower that swallows a swallower.
    There’s lots of drunks in this line of work. Duke the Midget was a drunk and still is, far as I can see. I knew him as a clown, but before that he was a wrestler. Wore his hair in a Mohawk and did his wrestling to tom-tom music. But he was no Indian. In fact, he wasn’t even a midget. He was a dwarf, but didn’t like the two D’s on his billing. I see him standing over there by the generator truck with a pipe wrench, sneering at me. It goes back to a fight he picked with me before I left for New York. One thing you don’t wanna do is get down in the dirt and wrestle with a dwarf. Not only doesn’t it look right, but the center of gravity is not in your favor. My thought was just punch him, get it over with, but he came in low, had me around the legs, trying to knock me down on the ground so he could put a hold on me. That’s what forced me to kick him. Sounds unsportsmanlike, but he’d been kicked by bigger guys than me. He even jumped the Giant once, an eight-footer from Iceland that was also a drunk and stomped Duke in the head so hard he knocked out his eye. That’s why Duke wears a patch over it and dresses like a pirate when he’s not working the big top.
    Word travels fast in the carnival. All I had to do was stand there waiting for Jack to come out, which after about two seconds he does. My hope is Doc already called him, but it turns out I gotta handle it myself. I start out sociable, ask Jack how his daddy’s doing. He tells me Wolf is great, couldn’t be better. Jack’s being sarcastic. I inquire if Wolf still sells war souvenirs at the playground. Not every weekend anymore. What he does is oversee things now, Jack says. Bayonets, medals and badges, flags and uniforms, you name it, Wolf sells it, featuring mainly German regalia. He’s telling me all this without so much as glancing at Mot.
    I came by to show him the Wild Man, I tell him. So he looks at Mot like it’s nothing special, tells me they already got a half-animal, half-human performer. He’s talking about Chicken Man, and before I can tell him Doc already sanctioned this deal, we’re onto an argument about the damn Chicken Man. Who wants to see some fat white guy dressed up like a hen with a plastic beak? He says people are used to the Chicken Man, he’s a familiar sight, tourists are comfortable with him. I say, Sure they are, he puts ’em to sleep.
    Things are heating up because this is more than just about the Chicken Man, it’s about what happened to his daddy, it’s about Doc. And about me going off to New York. I tell him, Go call Doc, straighten things out, but Jack doesn’t like being told what to do. He’s standing there working his jaw like he’s setting up to do something he’ll be sorry for if he tries it. I see Duke the Midget smiling at me, hoping it’s gonna hit the fan so he can jump in with his monkey wrench. Fine, let him. Then I whisper, You wanna tangle with the Wild Man? Say the word, Jack, all I gotta do is . . .
    I give Mot’s rope a little jiggle, leaving it to Jack’s imagination about what could happen next. It’s getting serious now.
    You making me a threat, Spence?
    I lean forward smiling at him, I say, You get between a dog and his bone, you know what happens?
    Then what he does is whip out his gun, points it mostly at Mot. Mot doesn’t give a damn, probably didn’t know what it was. Then Jack starts backing away, going to the phone was my guess, but had to do it on his own terms.
    I felt pretty sure that what just happened, happened in my favor, so I guide Mot to the parking lot. And sure