Sideshow Girl

I stood on the stage, looking out over the audience. "My lords and ladies," I shouted, "you are about to witness feats of great danger! I have in my posession three swords and eight knives, all of which are very sharp. My throat has not been prepped with a protective metal sheath. Under no circumstances should you ever attempt anything I'm about to do. Now you will see why, for the past eight years, I have been called Sharp Louie!" I boldly brandished one of my swords and smiled at the applause. I scanned the expectant crowd and spotted Scott and Jamie in the third row, and Bik and Asbestos in the row behind them. "I will begin," I said, "by asking for a volunteer. I need someone to come here and verify my blades. Come be the eyes and hands of the audience and tell them just how real these blades are." Several hands went up. I selected an older gentleman with graying hair that stuck out from under a Minnesota Twins baseball cap. "What is your name, my lord?" I asked, leading him to the stage.

"Greg," the man replied.

"Excellent," I said. "Greg, will you inspect these three swords for me?" He nodded and checked my swords, confirming their authenticity for the rest of the audience. I brought over my velvet-lined tray of knives. "Now the knives, please." Again, Greg agreed that the blades were real and sharp. "Thank you very much, Greg," I said. "You may return to your seat, my lord. How about a hand for Greg for being so brave?" The audience clapped as Greg returned to his place. "Now for the fun part," I said, my words dripping mischief. "I wish I had a drumroll for this part," I added, earning a few laughs. I tilted my head back as far as I could and properly positioned my shortest sword to slide down my throat without problems. I carefully guided it down my esophagus, successfully bypassing my gag reflex. There were audible gasps from the audience. I smiled again, inwardly this time so my muscle movements wouldn't interfere with the careful, delicate work I was doing with the rest of my mouth. When the crossguard nearly touched my lips, I stopped guiding the sword down and held it in place for a few seconds before carefully pulling it back out. I waited for my applause. "Oh," I said, "yeah, a girl sticks a sword down her throat for you and you guys are just like, 'whatever,'" I said, shrugging my shoulders. Finally, the audience clapped.

The rest of my show consisted of me swallowing the medium length and long length swords (not at the same time, though), juggling three knives, and doing a few knife-throwing tricks with the other five knives. For example, I successfully split a playing card in half from ten feet away. My finale? I swallowed the long sword, then juggled three knives with the sword still in my throat.

As I replaced my materials I said, "I'm just a lowly sideshow girl. Support the arts by tipping me on your way out. Tens and twenties are good, but be as generous as you feel. Thank you so much for coming to watch me. My next show is at 2:30, and it's basically the same stuff. I do have an adults-only show at 5:00. The main differences there are the jokes and my outfit. Once again, thank you, and don't forget to tip!" I hopped off of the stage and went to the back of the crowd to collect tips as people were leaving.

On my way back to the stage to tidy up and put my things away, I passed Asbestos and Bik as I was stuffing my tips into my corset. "Oh, my eyes!" Bik exclaimed. "My virgin eyes!"

"You don't have virgin eyes," Asbestos said, playfully knocking Bik on the back of the head. "Idiot."

I started putting all of my things backstage when Bik hopped up and stood near me. "Can I help you?" I asked.

"Uh-huh," he said, nodding. "You were wrong yesterday." I gave him a quizzical expression. "Look." Bik pulled his map out of the leather pouch attatched to his belt. He unfolded it and pointed to a little circle with the masks of Comedy and Tragedy in it. Next to the symbol, I made out the words "Gypsie Robin Hood Stage." "See?" Bik said. "You were wrong. It is marked on the map!"

"Well... suck my balls," I mumbled.

"You have balls?" Bik asked. I retrieved my juggling balls from backstage and threw a couple of them at him. "Sweet!" he said, catching them. "Toss me another one." I did. Bik started juggling and doing tricky little maneuvers. "I'd pass them under my knees, but I'm wearing a skirt."

"Do you ever concentrate on anything you're supposed to?" Asbestos asked.

"Sometimes," Bik replied. "Why?"

I laughed, shaking my head as I finished putting my stuff away. "I'm off," I said. "I think it's time to bust my Renaissance cherry."

"I wanna come!" Bik said, nearly flying off the stage. "I wanna come," he repeated. He started walking beside me. "I still think it's very important that you see Puke & Snot at some point, but I'm looking at the schedule and I see that the Danger Committee are performing right now, so let's go see them." I just nodded and followed my hyperactive comrad to the large Bakery Stage.

On the way, I surveyed my surroundings. Quaint little Renaissance-style buildings filled my peripheral vision, some of them partially hidden by trees. The people around were an odd sight. Some were dressed in the traditional clothing of the period; women in long dresses were accompanied by men in poofy shirts and tights with boots. Others were our modern-day friends and neighbors in decorated tee shirts and Converse shoes. They looked like they had just stepped out of a time machine into the sixteenth century.

"Hello?" Bik said, waving a hand in front of my face. "Are you listening to me? Spacey little girl."

"What were you saying?" I asked.

"I was saying that we should get together sometime this week and work on your fire trick. I'm free on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Pick one."

"I can't get together this week," I said.

"Well, should we do it next week then?" I started to stray a bit and Bik gently put a hand on my back to guide me in the right direction. "I'm open next week."

"No," I said. "I can't get together because I go home during the week."

"So does everyone else. So what day should we-"

"I don't live up here, Bik," I interrupted. "I live in Mankato."

"Ah, Key City," Bik said, smiling. "I've been there. Nice little place. It's not as big as, say, Minneapolis. Why can't we get together this week?"

"I would say we could do it on Friday, because that's the day I always get here so that I don't have to wake up too terribly early on Saturday, but it sounds like you're busy."

"I am," he said. "Fridays I rehearse with Asbestos. It doesn't take all day, so maybe I can fit you in sometime."

"I'll give you my cell number before I leave today," I told him. "You can call me, and then we can set it up."

"Sounds good," Bik said, giving me a smirk and a little nod. "This is it." He waved a hand at the massive stage in front of us. "You'll love these guys."

From where we stood at the back of the crowd, I could clearly make out the figures of three men in red and black costumes. One of the men bellowed, "Thank you to those of you who are sitting down to watch us, instead of the ones in the back standing up. You Americans like to do that. You stand in the back and decide if we suck." He had an interesting European accent, but I couldn't quite place where he was from.

Bik was right, I loved their show. I think my favorite part was when one of the guys threw a knife, effectively slicing a cucumber (held by one of his mates) in half.

We stayed at the back for a while after the show, but Bik wouldn't tell me why. "Hey," said the man with the funny accent, "I could see you back here, Bik. Why didn't you sit down?" He approached and affectionately patted Bik's shoulder. "Hi. I don't believe we've met." He thrust a hand out toward me. "Ronaldo."

"Louie," I said, shaking his hand. "Bik brought me over here to bust my Renaissance cherry."

"You have a Renaissance cherry?" Ronaldo asked. "Where?"

I laughed, probably turning eight shades of red. "This is the first year I've ever been to the Renaissance Festival," I explained.

"Oh," Ronaldo said, nodding slowly. "Are you enjoying it?"

"Very much, thanks," I said.

"How do you know Bik?" Ronaldo asked me, jerking a thumb in Bik's general direction.

"I'm performing on the same stage as he and his partner are," I said. "How do you know Bik?"

"Everybody knows Bik," he explained. "He's so obnoxious it's impossible not to know him."

"I heard that!" Bik said, feigning insult. "I have ears, at least one of which is working properly."

"And you have working legs, too," I pointed out. "Let's keep walking. I want to see more of the festival!"