Sideshow Girl

On Friday I got to the address that Bik provided to me at exactly noon. I went to the front door of the little house and lifted my fist, ready to knock, when I saw the sign taped to it. The sign was orange with artistic hand-drawn black lettering and little doodles of flames. It said: Don't bother knocking; nobody will answer. We're in the backyard. At the bottom of the sign was an ornate arrow, also hand-drawn, pointing to my right. I followed the sign's directions around to the back of the house. I was greeted by a weathered wood fence with a gate, surrounding a small greenish lawn with a concrete patio. Bik and Asbestos were sitting on the patio, fiddling with their skewers. I leaned over the gate, resting my arms on it. "Hey, guys!" I hollered. They turned and I waved. Looks of recognition and fondness spread across their faces.

"Stay right there," Bik ordered, setting his skewer on the concrete and standing up. "I'll unlock the gate." He opened the gate and stepped to the side, beckoning me in. "Welcome to my backyard."

"Thanks," I said, smiling. "Nice sign on your door, by the way."

"You like it?" Bik asked. "I drew it a few months ago. Did you bring your fire staff?"

"It's in the trunk of my car," I explained. Bik rolled his eyes.

"Go get it, then!" he ordered. "We're wasting time. I have to finish making a new skewer. You, go to your car and get the staff. I'll sit and keep working on my skewer. And by Odin's hairy scrotum, please tell me you have fuel for the damn thing."

"Yeah," I nearly whispered, nodding slightly.

"Good. Now go. Go."

I left rather quickly to go to the trunk of my car and retrieve my staff and fuel. I was a bit taken aback by Bik's sudden mood change. I unlocked the trunk and pulled out the metal staff, coated in a thick layer of insulating material so that when it was lit the heated metal wouldn't burn me. On one end, it had a good sized wick made of... something. I made a mental note to ask Asbestos what the wick was, afraid that my ineptitude would set Bik off again if I asked him instead. I also heaved out the big red jug of kerosene. I went back to the yard, lugging my equipment with me, and found the gate open this time. The guys were sitting on the patio again. "C'mere," Bik said, glancing up at me from the intricate weaving he was doing on the wick of the skewer. I hesitated and refused to budge. "Come here," he repeated. I took a few small steps in his direction.

"See?" Asbestos said to Bik. "You scared the poor little thing." He turned to me. "Come on, Louie. We won't bite."

"That's not much consolation when you have fire at your disposal," I joked. Both men chuckled.

"How cute," Bik commented, "she made a silly! Seriously, though. Come closer." I stood right over near them, finally noticing a big dark spot on the concrete, as if it was wet with something. "Sit with us," Bik said, patting the ground next to him. I plopped down. "Asbestos thinks I owe you an apology, and I'm pretty sure he's right. I get a little bitchy when I'm busy working and somebody pops up unprepared. I have a short temper at times, and I'm sorry for having a mini tantrum."

"I forgive you," I said.

"But," he continued, "in all fairness, you did show up here without your things in hand."

"I thought I'd make sure you were home first," I said. "I didn't see a car out here or anything."

"You know, if I give you a date and time to meet me someplace, it's a good bet that I'll be there. Lemme see your staff." He held out an open hand. I gave him my staff. "Very nice," he said as he examined it. "Your wick's a little worse for wear, but we can fix that. It's just cotton, anyway. You need some Kevlar-based wicking. It absorbs better and it doesn't wear out as fast as cotton."

"Can I ask you guys a question?" I asked.

"Too late now," Asbestos said. "What's your question?"

"What's that spot?" I asked, pointing to the wet patch.

"Fuel drip," Bik answered. He had gotten back to tying up the wick on his new skewer. "We were practicing for a while. Why do you think I didn't immediately hug you to death when you got here? I'm soaked with fuel. I didn't think you'd appreciate getting wet." He tugged at his shirt, which I noticed was quite wet. "Speaking of fuel, what did you bring in that jug?"

"Kerosene," I replied.

"Okay," he said, finishing the skewer and setting it down next to him. "Let me tell you something about kerosene. I don't like kerosene. It's an oil, so it has a fairly high flash point, making it dangerous to work with. Having a high flash point means that the wick will get a lot hotter, a lot faster, because it takes a ton of heat to ignite the kerosene, understand?" I nodded. "Okay. Good. For today, we can use the kerosene. I want you to invest in some safe fuel called Fire Water, okay? Do that sometime before next Friday so you've got that on hand for practice. I'll write down the name of the store up here where you can get it."

"I hope you write better than you text," I teased.

"Not much," Bik laughed.

"There's so much I don't know," I said, blushing and shaking my head. "I'm so glad I met you guys last week. I'd probably burst into flames trying this stunt if it weren't for you."

"Probably," Asbestos said. He laughed.

"You should warm up before we do anything," Bik said. "Practice a little so your throat's all limbered up and whatever. I never swallow without warming up first. Of course, that's just me. If you don't need to warm up it's fine. Are you ready?"

I could feel those sharp blue eyes staring intensely at me. "No, I'll practice a bit first," I replied, picking up my staff.

"Stand right over here," Bik said, getting up and moving to a spot in the yard. He pointed down at his feet. "You'll be far enough away if you stay here. We're gonna blow some more fireballs."

"Kay," I said, moving to join him. After making sure I was at a sufficient distance from the patio, Bik returned to Asbestos and they dipped a couple of skewers in whatever toxic fuel they use.

I tilted my head back and swallowed a few times to warm up my throat. There really isn't any actual swallowing involved in sword swallowing, despite its name. Still, I believed my little swallowing exercise helped me bypass my gag reflex when I started to slide an object down my throat. I could hear the loud whoof sounds when the guys blew their fireballs, and I felt some of the heat from where I stood. Just as I was lifting the staff to my lips, I heard Bik yell from the patio. "Ow! Fuck!" he said. I looked over at them. Bik was holding his right forearm.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Asbestos said, cautiously approaching his partner. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Bik insisted. He moved his hand and looked at his arm. "I'm okay. I need the hose." He went and turned on the garden hose, holding the stream of cold water over the burn on his arm. "What are you looking at, Louie?" he asked, grinning at me. "Keep practicing. I'm okay."

"I want to ask you another question," I said to them.

"Shoot," Asbestos said.

"What does that taste like?" I pointed to the glass bottles of fuel that were on the patio.

"Fuel?" Bik asked, still running water over his burn. "It's awful. It's the worst tasting thing I've ever put in my mouth. Wanna try it?"

"No, thanks," I laughed.

"Wind's picking up," Asbestos said, watching the flame on the end of his skewer blow almost horizontally. "We should stop practicing. For safety's sake."

"Agreed," Bik said. "You still up for your trick, Lou?"

"Maybe," I said.

"When the staff is down your throat, about how close is the wick to your face?" he asked as he put the hose away.

"Oh, about half a foot," I said.

"Okay," he said, nodding. "You'll be fine, even in this wind. Can I wick that for you so we don't have burning cotton to deal with?"

"Sure," I said, walking over and passing him the staff.

"Since I happen to like you a bit, I'm not going to make you pay me back for this wicking," Bik said. He cut the cotton off of the end of the staff and wrapped the metal in Kevlar material. "That's the easy part," he said. "Pay attention, Louie. I'm trying to teach you how to wick this thing." I nodded. "Kay, now this is the tricky part." He pulled out a length of twine and started the weird weaving/knotting thing he was doing with a skewer when I arrived. Essentially, he made a loop at the top of the wick and wrapped the rest of the long piece of twine around it. Bik was wicking my staff too quickly for me to actually watch.

"You're doing it too fast," I complained. "I can't see what you're doing."

"Sorry," he said, slowing down. "I'm wrapping it really tightly so that it doesn't come undone. I didn't mean to do it so fast. I've been wicking things for myself for so many years that it's become second nature." He tied off the end and gave the staff back to me. He opened my jug of kerosene. "Will that fit into the jug, or do I have to pour some of this out?"

"It'll fit," I said. I dipped the staff into the oil and started to lift it virtically again, but Bik put his hand on it to stop me.

"Give it a shake first," he said. He took it and shook it a couple of times, splattering kerosene on the concrete. "That way, the excess fuel won't drip down to your mouth. If it did, the fire could easily follow it and burn you."

"Thanks," I said. Asbestos stepped over and reached for the staff.

"I want to teach her, too," he said. He took the staff from me and held it horizontally over the burning metal brazier on the patio, waiting for the kerosene to ignite. "Whatever you're lighting should be held over whatever you're lighting it off of," he explained. "That should be obvious." He put the lit staff in my hand. "Go ahead."

I looked between my two friends. "Let me give you a little hint," Bik finally said. "Keep your hands near your mouth when you put the staff down your throat. You won't get burned. I promise."

"Oh, this is really important!" Asbestos sputtered. "Don't breathe in sharply when the fire is near your face. You could collapse a lung. If you must breathe, do it very, very slowly."

I was trembling by that point. I mustered up the courage, took a deep breath, and started the staff's descent down my throat. I kept my hands near my mouth, staring up at the fire that crept closer to my face as I inched the staff down my esophagus. "That's it," Bik encouraged. "Careful." I could feel the heat on the tip of my nose. The staff was all the way in. "Good job." It occurred to me then, that I didn't know how I was going to kill the flame. "Can you blow it out with your nose?" Bik asked, reading my mind. I tried. "Breathe out through your mouth." I tried. The flame flickered, but stayed. "Try again." I breathed harder. The flame died and the wick smoked. I drew the staff out of my throat. "That was excellent, Louie," Bik said, clapping his hand on my back.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever done," I mumbled.

"But you did it," Asbestos said.

"I'm going to put on a different shirt," Bik said. "Then, I think we should go out for lunch. This calls for a celebration."