Desdemona by Tag Cavello (read e books online free .txt) đ
- Author: Tag Cavello
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âBoo!â one of the patrons shouted.
âShut up!â yelled somebody else.
âDriftinâ along with the tumblinâ tumbleweeds!â
Dante looked at his mug of beer. It was full to the brimânothing like the little sips his dad would give him at parties from time to time.
âTime to earn your man card, Dante,â Brentonâs shadowy figure spoke. He raised his mug, Dawn hers, Sunny hers. âTo young love,â the father said in a thoughtful voice. âMay it be quick and keen as deathâs arrow spearing. May it burn hot as the inhumed sea. And may the two of you, Dante and Sunny, be ever toward it endearing.â
Dante picked up his mug. He clinked it with the others (Sunnyâs tiny arm trembled slightly with the weight of hers, making him wonder if she could really quaff such a large helping). Then he began to drink.
The first gulp refreshed him. The second was bitter. The third burned his throat.
Sunny couldnât finish. Her mug hit the table half empty. Brentonâs mugâcompletely drainedâfollowed. Then came Dawnâs, also empty.
âCome on, kiddo!â Brenton cheered. âYou can do it!â
Dante took two more swallows. His head had begun to swim. The entire saloon now felt as if it were floating gently on Lake Erie. Over the glass he could see Brentonâs eyes twinkling like stars upon full masts. He took two more swallows. Sunny put her hand on his shoulder. âDo it, baby,â she whispered.
Determined not to disappoint her, he tilted the mug back farther. Farther. The beer trickled away. Almost gone. Almost gone.
Ah!
Now there was only foam! Victorious, Dante drank that too, then slammed the mug down hard enough to make the candle jump.
âWhoo-hoo!â Sunny screamed, throwing her arms round his neck.
âWell done!â Brenton pronounced. âIâm very pleased!â
For a moment Dante felt he might pass out on the floor. Sunny rescued him with a kiss on the cheek, which boosted his vigor.
Dawn began to clap. âYouâve got a man all right,â she told her daughter. In his drunken state Dante tried hard to deduce the amount of sarcasm in her tone. Yet she seemed quite sincere, and her face, like the othersâ, was radiant with pride. âItâs about time!â
â
It was six oâclock by the time they reached the freak tents. Night had fallen, to which end the park became fully alive. Ghouls and ghosts capered in the streets. Some of them gave candy to the kids. Others tried to scare the teens and tweens. Sunny fell victim to this last, all but jumping into Danteâs arms when a green zombie lunged from behind the general store. Still feeling heroic, he pulled her close, shielding her body from the undead creatureâs terrible maw.
âARRRGHHH!â the zombie snarled.
âArrgh yourself!â Dante told it.
âWould you like me to eat your braiiinnns?â
âNo, thank you. I still use them from time to time.â
Cowering behind his shoulder, Sunny had gone from screaming to laughing. âAtta boy, Dante!â she said. âYou ainât afraid of no ghosts!â
The tents were not typically an attraction for Cedar Pointâor at least, Dante couldnât remember seeing them before. About ten stood at the edge of Frontier Town, each with a crier to tempt passers-by through their dark doors.
âSee the Amazing Bertha!â one yelled. âFattest woman in the history of humankind! Seven-hundred pounds of pure, sickening blubber! Youâll be shocked! Appalled! Disgusted!â
How politically correct, Dante thought dryly, his eyes on a picture of what looked to be a whale in a flower print dress.
âLadies and gentlemen!â came the scream of another from across the street. âLadies and gentlemen, inside this tent is an atrocity so stunning, so terrifying, you wonât believe your own eyes! Come and beholdâŠthe two-headed man!â
The crier stepped aside to reveal a cartoon drawing of a two-headed man. One of the heads wore an evil, twisted sneer, the other looked stupid enough to poop its own pants.
Brenton and Dawn paid it zero attention. They did, however, pause in front of another tent, where a giant picture of a snarling gorilla towered over the midway.
âHalo!â the crier sang, smelling fresh blood. He wore a checkered suit complete with cane and tweed top hat. To Dante, he looked perfectly ridiculous. âSo you want to see the gorilla? Of course you do!â
âOf course we do,â Brenton said, nudging at Dawnâs rib.
âAh!â the crier spieled on. âBut the gorilla can only manifest itself through the body of a beautiful young girl! A young girlâŠlike this one!â His white-gloved hand pointed directly at Sunny, who blinked but could not form a reply.
âYou mean Sunny?â Brenton asked.
âIs that her name? Lovely! Perhaps she would be willing to take the stage! And then undergo a truly fascinating transformation!â
It was Dawn who spoke next. âYou want to turn my daughter into a gorilla?â she said.
âOh it wonât be me, madam! Instead, why donât we make it her very own father!â
Brentonâs eyes grew wide. âNow see here, young man,â he blustered, âyou canât possibly think that I would everââ
âDo such a thing!â the crier finished. As he spoke he raised his voice even higher, so that passers-by on the street could take notice. âOh no! How could I ask a father to turn his sweet baby girl into a full grown gorilla? A beast! A monster! Well the answer is simple!â
âTell me,â Brenton demanded.
A crowd of people were now gathering around the entrance to the tent. Sunnyâs face wore an expression of one highly amused. She looked from one patron to the next, before finally settling her eyes on Dante. âGirl to gorilla,â she said.
âI doubt it,â he told her.
âWait and see.â
âBecause I see by your face that you think itâs impossible!â came the crierâs answer. The crowd was getting larger by the moment. Elbows bumped Danteâs ribs. Voices, most of them male, began to egg Brenton on. âWell, sir,â the crier said overtop them, âif itâs so impossible, then why not give it a try!â
âYeah!â somebody shouted. âGo on! Change her into a monkey!â
âGorilla!â corrected the man in the checkered suit.
âWhatever! Come on! Iâve got five bucks says it canât be done!â
âAnd Iâve got ten,â Brenton said, grinning at the crier. Then, to Sunny: âWhat do you think? Wanna try?â
âSure!â the girl replied.
Her answer didnât surprise Dante. She would of course love the attention. Devour it like Herculesâ Nemean lion would a finger.
To a round of delighted applause, Brenton and Sunny walked into the tent. Dante and Dawn went next (as friends of the act, they didnât need a ticket). Dim light welcomed them. Weak bulbs flickered on massive support posts. The floor consisted of odiferous yellow grass sprinkled with old popcorn. In front was a stage made of plywood. It smelled of spruce and glue. Sunny followed her father behind it, looking back at Dante once to blow him a kiss.
âFront row seats,â Dawn said to him. âThatâs nice.â
There were no seats, of course. Everyone wishing to see the show had to stand. This fact in no way deterred the curious. Within minutes a hundred people occupied the tent. Once more Dante felt elbows getting too close. Heard puffs of hot breath. They talked in low tonesâalmost whispersâin regard to some undocumented respect for darkened rooms. Dante did his best not to pay attention. It wasnât hard. A large purple curtain, the color of Sunnyâs dress, hung over the stage. Along its hem he could see movement. Shuffling feet. People were working on the other side. Trying to set up whatever it was that needed setting up.
âWhatâs taking so long?â somebody wanted to know, though it hadnât really been all that long. Five minutes at most. Yet the arrow of the complaint must have struck its target, for at that moment a jittery, creepy music piece began to play. High piano notes in staccato accompanied by guttural bass lines. Dawn informed him it was called The Witch by Tchaikovsky. When it was over the crier from outside took the stage. Smiling in the gloom, he raised his hands for silence. Everyone, including the complainer, obliged.
âThank you!â the crier spoke. âThank you all! The showâthe most horrific show ever in the history of midway spectaclesâis about to begin. Our subject is a sweet young girl, twelve years old, who will soon change, before your very eyes, into a savage gorilla!â
âYAYYY!â the crowd cheered.
âSAVAGE!â repeated the crier, to even more cheers. âHuge and bloodthirsty! Utterly insane! A monster to give you nightmares!â
âReally,â Dante heard Dawn say. âMy Sunny isnât a monster!â
âAre you ready?â the crierâs voice shrieked.
And the crowd: âYES!â
âAre you READY?â
âYES!â
Dante covered his ears. He didnât know how good the crierâs act would be, nor did it seem to matter either way. To judge by the noise his audience was already well pleased.
âOne more thing!â the crier sang out, raising his index finger. âOne more thing! It should be noted here that I have instructed the girlâs very own father in how to change her!â
âNO! NO WAY!â
âYes way! And to prove it, ladies and gentlemen let me introduce you to the kindly, the elegant, the distinguished, Mister Brenton Desdemona!â
Everyone applauded like lunatics as the curtain flew back to reveal Brenton, standing stage left, and Sunny, tiny and dainty, locked inside of an iron cage.
âHello, Mr. Desdemona, hello!â said the crier. âYou have a very lovely daughter!â He then held his microphone to Brentonâs lips.
âThank you,â Brenton replied. âItâs a pleasure to be here.â
âOh!â came the crierâs mock expression of surprise. âWe have a gentleman in our midst! And tell me, Mr. Desdemona, do you feel you can incant the proper words to transform this beautiful girl into the hideous beast we saw on the poster outside?â
Brenton smiled. To Dante he looked perfectly at ease with his position. âAbsolutely,â he told everyone. âIt will beâŠvery easy.â
At this the audience began to cheer again. A few of the men even threw their hats. It had no effect on Brenton. His face remained sober, his smile serene. He looked down at Dante and winked.
âCome on!â the crier said, all disbelief. âEasy?â
âMy daughter,â Brenton said, never once taking his eyes from Dante, âalways does whatever I tell her to do.â
âYAYYY!â erupted the crowd.
âYou heard him, everyone!â yelled the crier. âAnything he wants done, gets done! So without further ado, letâs have our show!â
The tent continued in the way of old Bedlam for another minute, until finally Brenton raised his arms. Instantly his canvassed audience fell silent. Thanking them for their subordination, he turned to Sunny, who had waited through everything with a smile more crooked than the Cuyahoga, and eyes shining green in the peaked light.
The crier handed him his mic. Brenton nodded, raised it to his lips. âHow are you feeling?â he asked Sunny.
âPretty good!â she spoke into the mic. âA bit cramped but good.â
Titters from the crowd. A few coughs.
âCramped?â Brenton said. âWell once youâre a gorilla itâs going to be a lot more cramped.â
âI know!â
âThink you can handle this?â
âOh yes! No problem!â
âThen letâs begin. Take a deep, deep breath.â
âAHHHHHH!â Sunny gasped, filling her small, thin chest to its utmost capacity.
âGood girl! Now let it out slow.â
âPhewwwww!â
âMarvelous. Now then. Close your eyes. Clear your mind. Relax your muscles.â
Dante watched her take another deep breath, wait five seconds, and release it. He tried to see behind her, to the back of the cage, where doubtless a double in a gorilla suit was waiting for his cue to step forth. But no. The showâs collaborators had everything locked down water tight. Dante could find nothing in the gloom save for the eagerness of his own imagination to conjure terror. This, of course, was precisely what the act intended. Its religion was a sham, its promises hollow. Its wrapping paper, however, could not have been more enticing were it moist with the waters of Tartarus which ebbed and flowed in that place far underfoot. Thus Dante watched, transfixed. He could not move or even think to move. The act had him in its clutches.
âGorilla,â Brenton said softly into the cage. âThink of a gorilla. Large. Muscular. Bestial.â
Submerged in darkness, Sunny stood, eyes closed, breathing
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