clowns and lives to tell the tale. So he took the only course of action left
open to him. He jumped into the barrel, pulling the lid down after him.
He had come up with some pretty stupid plans in his time, but this had to
be top of the list. The clown had seen him jump into the barrel. All it had to
do was to pull open the lid, and he was history. He had hoped that maybe he
could hold the lid closed, but there was no handle inside, nothing to pull
upon to stop the lid from being opened from outside. All he could do was to
wait for the clown to uncork him and devour him. And Takina, too.
There was not a great deal of room in the barrel. He was sitting on her, with
his head pressed up against the lid. He could feel one bony Amazon elbow
sticking into his bottom. He had often dreamt of being in close proximity to
his partially-clad friend, but in his fantasies they had not been crammed
together in a wooden barrel with a man-eating clown outside. Fantasies such
as that catered for a very specialist market.
He jumped as the clown kicked the barrel. Then again. Then a furious
scratching sound as the creature tried to claw its way through the sides.
Could it be that the clown was so stupid that it had failed to realise what the
lid was for?
It howled; more wolf than human. Then more scratching, more insistent
than before. It kicked the barrel again. Takina groaned through her gag
beneath him, the sort of noise you make when having particularly distressing
nightmares, or perhaps when a bony wizard is shoving his arse in your face
when you’re trying to sleep. He hoped he wasn’t crushing her; stifling her.
She was a warrior, and had always longed for a warrior’s death; she would
be mortified if she knew that her life might come to an end here in a barrel,
suffocated beneath an elderly wizard’s bottom.
Another kick. The wood splintered. Another, with the same result. It was
only a matter of time. The clown was doing it the hard way, but another few
blows and the barrel would split open, leaving the pair of them at its mercy.
He felt the urge to pray, but couldn’t remember the names of any gods so
opted to curse instead.
“Is that the best you’ve got, you pasty little freak? My mother could do
better than that, and she’s been dead forty years! And she’s got rickets!”
Another kick. The barrel splintered, a large shard of wood bisecting his
legs, coming dangerously close to turning him into an instant eunuch. Just
when he thought his predicament couldn’t get any worse.
“Go and put some clothes on, you dirty bugger! Running around, with that
tiny little thing of yours flapping in the wind, frightening the ladies. You
should be ashamed of yourself.”
Yet another kick, and the barrel toppled on to its side. A yellow eye
appeared at a gap between the planks, leering in at him. It tried to jam its
grasping fingers through the opening. Long grubby nails raked his bearded
cheek as it tried to gain purchase on his face. The clown gave a frustrated
snort, and stepped back to give the barrel one final kick. The end was nigh.
Halfshaft closed his eyes. All he could hope was that by the time the
creature had finished eating him, it would be too full to munch on Takina. It
was not a particularly tubby clown. Maybe it had a dainty appetite.
No kick. He opened his eyes. He couldn’t see the clown any more. But then
the barrel started moving. Someone was rolling it. He closed his eyes again,
and thought furiously (which was very much his usual way of thinking).
Maybe the clown was taking him outside to share him with his colleagues?
A clown picnic on the grass by the river. In which case the chances of Takina
being left unscathed were virtually zero, especially when she looked an
awful lot more appetising than him.
There was only one thing to do. Wake her up. And when they got the barrel
open, he would have to distract them as best he could while she made a run
for it. It was a long shot, but it might just work.
“Takina!” he shouted. “Takina!”
The barrel stopped rolling. It was listening.
“Takina!” he whispered. No response.
The barrel was on the move again, faster this time. He rattled around
between the lid and the slumbering Amazon, trying to remember which way
was up.
He ground his spindly bottom into her face. She was not going to be
remotely comfortable with this if she woke up, but he figured she would
forgive him eventually if it saved her life. Still no response. What had they
done to her to make her sleep this deeply?
He braced his hands against the side of the barrel, and tried to thrust his
bottom downwards, hoping the impact against her head would wake her up.
It was difficult to carry out this manoeuvre while he was being rolled around,
and as he pumped his pelvis up and down in this foetal position it must have
looked very much like he was trying to copulate with his own knees, but he
carried on regardless, desperate to save her life whatever the cost to his
dignity.
The barrel stopped. Picnic time.
The lid came off. He would soon find out how many clowns it had taken to
open a barrel.
Time to jump out. Time to run around like a maniac, drawing them to him,
hoping against hope that Takina would regain consciousness and flee to
safety while they were eating him.
“What were you doing, just then?”
That voice. Familiar. Very familiar. Just a little jealous.
He looked out of the barrel.
Cherry.
“Were you trying to force that poor girl’s head up your bottom while she
was asleep? There’s laws against that sort of thing, you know, you dirty old
man.”
“No!” Halfshaft protested, not a little outraged. It was bad enough being
accused of foul and unnatural practices when he was guilty of them, but to
be accused when he was innocent was almost too much to bear. “I was just
trying to wake her up!”
“Interesting way of doing it. We use alarm clocks where I come from.”
#
It was the morning of the Games.
All the Candidates were assembled in the Big Top, together with a few
others besides. The cage had been dismantled; now that the wolves and the
clowns had jumped ship, there was no longer any need for it.
It transpired that Cherry and Selene had between them dispatched the other
clown, wrestling it to the ground and dashing its head against the bars of the
cage. Cherry had then gone in search of Halfshaft. She had decided upon the
stupidest place anyone would try to hide, and headed straight for it. Sure
enough, she had found the wizard cowering in a barrel, being set upon by an
angry clown. She had downed it with a punch to the temple, and rolled the
barrel outside. The wood had split, and she could see that he was pressed up
against some floozy inside. Takina had seemed the most likely floozy
judging from all the flesh and squirrel-fur on display, though she couldn’t
actually make out the woman’s face. The bottom had seemed about the right
size, though, being several sizes larger than her own. She had thought it a
bit much that her travelling companion had shacked up in a barrel with a
half-naked scrubber, leaving her to battle rabid clowns virtually single-
handed, and had decided to roll him around for a while before setting him
free. But he had then started grinding his arse into the poor girl’s scalp, and
she had decided that enough was enough. No-one deserved that, not even if
they were one or two dress sizes larger than her. She had uncorked him
before he tried anything more perverse still.
The Candidates had been grouped into pairs in the Big Top, each as spaced
out from one another as they had been the night before. There were less of
the originals now, though. The clowns had taken out the elf and the dwarf in
the cage, before turning on each other in their bloodlust. As a result, the
Ringmaster had had to call upon the reserves to replace the fallen. The new
Candidates were not nearly as fearsome as their predecessors, which was
very good news as far as the wizard was concerned. Better still, Takina was
back off the subs bench, and back into the Games. Halfshaft would rather
that she be almost anywhere else but here, but knew that if she had been left
in that barrel then it was only a matter of time before the Circus fed her to
some abomination or other in the cages. At least she had some sort of chance
in the Games, especially if he did everything possible to ensure that she won
at his expense.
He had still not had a chance to talk to her. She had remained stubbornly
unconscious after the clown attack, despite his best attempts to shake her
awake. Cherry had looked on, a pretty pout on her face, as he had attempted
to rouse the Amazon.
“Maybe if you tried humping her again?” she had suggested. “That might
perk her up a bit.”
Takina was now over the far side of the tent, still looking pretty groggy.
That was bad. She would be fighting for her life in an hour or two, and she
needed all her wits about her. He consoled himself with the fact that she was
on Selene’s team. He had been given to understand that the Amazons almost
always won. By his reckoning, only the one remaining troll stood in their
way.
The Ringmaster was acting very curiously. He stood facing a man with a
black box on his shoulder. The box had a circular piece of glass set into it,
only a couple of inches across at most, which he was pointing towards the
circus-man. The Ringmaster addressed the box as if it were a person, never
taking his eyes from it, even when he was gesturing towards the Candidates
ranged behind him.
“Ladies and gentleman,” he was saying, “after yesterday’s unscheduled
and spectacular events, this promises to be the best Games ever staged. The
wolves remain at large. The clowns remain at large. And we have some
brand new Candidates for you, to replace the ones who were torn to shreds
before your very eyes just twelve hours ago. So let’s meet them all, one team
at a time, and see what they have to say for themselves.”
Two hunchbacks ushered up the first pair of Candidates. Bastard and
Halfshaft’s younger self (who had replaced the absconded trolless). Young
Halfshaft tried to keep as far away from Bastard as possible, as the troll did
not appear to have taken to his new partner at all. They were directed to
stand in front of the strange black box, and the Ringmaster turned his
attention to them.
“Bastard and Halfshaft. Would you tell the viewers back at home what your
tactics are for the Games?”
“I’m gonna rip everyone’s head off, and eat them. That little wizard runt
over there, included. And then I’m gonna go and find my mate.”
“How can we lose with a cunning plan like that?” Young Halfshaft nodded.
“The man’s a military genius.”
“Shut your bastard face,” instructed Bastard, not being much of a team-
player. Young Halfshaft decided to acquiesce all the same.
They were ushered away, and the next contestants were directed to take
their places in front of the black box.
“Fat Dora and Muriel,” the Ringmaster remarked to the black box.
“My name is not Fat Dora!” objected the over-sized witch. “It’s not fat-
anything!”
“Huge Dora might be nearer the mark,” stated her rather bitchy companion.
“Obese Dora. Dora-the-Walking-Heart-attack. Dora-Who-Ate-All-The-
Pies. Take your pick, Sonny-boy.”
“You anorexic little twat!” Fat Dora objected. “Just cos you’re all
shrivelled up, like a flag-pole on a diet. You’ve always been jealous of my
curves, you nasty little bitch. You want force-feeding, you do.”
“Don’t you speak to me like that, you old slapper. I’d shove my broom-
stick up your big fat ass, but it would take a large search-party and a week
of pot-holing to get it back again.”
“I’m going to have to move you along, ladies,” the Ringmaster interjected.
“No bad language here on Channel Seventeen. This is good, wholesome
family entertainment. We have children tuning in for the Games.”
The next Candidates were introduced. “Takina and Selene.”
“Selene and Takina,” the Amazon Queen corrected. “Royalty is always
given precedence.”
Takina turned away from the box, giving Halfshaft an encouraging “hang-
on-in-there” smile. He smiled back. He was desperate to talk to her. He had
so much to ask. First of which, it had to be said, was why she had tried to
escape without him.
“You are a very lucky woman,” the Ringmaster told her. “Under normal
circumstances, you would have lost your place in the Games. But we seem
to be a few Candidates down after yesterday’s exciting events, so you’re
back off the sub’s bench and in with a chance of Glory.”
She shrugged, still disorientated. Selene decided to fill the conversational
void.
“We will win today. Amazons always win the Games. Women are superior
to men, and we are the only all-woman team here.”
“Thanks for that, you malicious tart,” Fat Dora shouted.
“I do not think of you as a woman,” Selene retorted. “More of a sack of
wrinkly flab.”
“This sack of wrinkly flab is going to smack you in the chops if you’re not
careful!”
“Go on,” Muriel egged her on. “Tug her tits off! That’ll wipe the smile off
her face!”
“Family entertainment, remember,” chided the Ringmaster. “You can’t say
“tits” on Channel Seventeen. I think we had better move on. Stub and Betty,
please.”
The two dwarfs scurried forwards, casting anxious glances around them at
the other Candidates, as if expecting them to leap into premature action and
annihilate them before the Games had even started.
“Another new recruit,” the Ringmaster advised the black box, gesturing
towards Stub. “Are you two getting to know each other.”
“He’s very handsome,” cooed Betty. “Look at that big bushy beard. I could
eat him all up, in more ways than one.”
“If there’s anyone who’s going to be eating him, it’s me!” shouted Bastard.
“Not that you two tiny little creatures would fill me up for long!”
“And do you find your new team-mate similarly attractive?” the
Ringmaster enquired. “Any chance of some love interest here?”
Stub shuddered. “Not likely. I like them tall and leggy. She’d do if I was
desperate, but I’ve got my eyes on the Amazons, to tell you the truth.”
It was the turn of Selene and Takina to shudder. Neither seemed to take the
compliment in the spirit it was intended. Short and beardy was not a recipe
for the perfect Amazon mate.
“Any tactics you’d like to share with us?” whispered the Ringmaster. “Our
little secret.” He winked at the black box.
“I’m gonna jump him while he’s asleep,” Betty drooled. “Get myself some
hot dwarf action, whether he likes it or not. Show him what he’s missing.”
“Maybe if I get you an Amazon wig,” Stub pondered. “And if you covered
your face with your hands. That might work. If I was asleep at the time.”
“Give us a kiss,” she begged. “Just one, and I promise not to jump you
when you’re snoozing.”
“No tongues,” the Ringmaster put in. “Family entertainment, don’t forget.”
“Leave me be, woman,” Stub retorted. “I’d rather snog that wizard over
there, than pucker up for you.”
“I think you’ve pulled,” Cherry told Halfshaft. “Mind you, he’s more
attractive than that Amazon you were dry-humping in the barrel.”
“I was trying to wake her up!” Halfshaft snapped. The black-box swung
towards him. He gave it an uncomfortable wave, and looked at his feet until
he was sure that it had lost interest in him and moved on.
“Roland and Cartwright.”
The elf. And Ditherer! Of all the people they could have found to substitute
for the deceased elfish Candidate, they had picked him! Quite where they
had got him from was anyone’s guess.
“Another late substitution,” the Ringmaster advised the black box. “How
do you rate your chances today?”
Cartwright shrugged. “I don’t rightly know why I’m here, Uncle, if the
truth be told. One minute they’re locking me up in a cell with that
masturbating wizard over there, and threatening to whack me in the testicles
with a pitchfork; next minute, they’re telling me I’m free to go; next minute
they’re telling me that that the wizard has disappeared on the way to the
Games and that I might be needed after all. And then you jab me with that
black stick of yours, and I wake up in a barrel. You ought to make your
minds up, you do!”
“And how about you, Roland? Confident of success?”
Roland shook his head. “We’re doomed.”
The Ringmaster frowned. “That’s hardly the spirit, is it? You have as much
chance as anyone.”
“I’m going through a bit of a bad patch. My wife’s left me. My children
hate me. My team-mate’s been eaten by a clown. I don’t really see the point
of all this, to be honest. Doomed.”
The Ringmaster looked as if he was considering prodding the depressed elf
with his cane to liven him up a little, but cast an uncomfortable glance
towards the black box and opted to move on to the next Candidates instead.
“Ladies and gentleman, I give you Halfshaft and Cherry.”
“Show-time,” beamed Cherry, as she ushered him into the limelight.
#
Halfshaft squinted into the lens of the black box, trying to work out
precisely to whom they were talking. It would be powerful magic indeed to
shrink people sufficiently to fit them inside, but what other explanation
could there be? Whatever else he might be, the Ringmaster was not stupid,
and he clearly thought he was talking to someone in there. However tiny
they might be.
The Ringmaster had just asked him a question. Unfortunately, he had no
idea what it was, having been too busy trying to unlock the secrets of the
black box. He stared at the Ringmaster, hoping that he would repeat it. The
Ringmaster stared back at him, resolutely refusing to bail him out.
He looked to Cherry for help. She gave him an encouraging smile. He
looked back to the Ringmaster.
“I’m sorry,” said the circus-man. “I didn’t think it was a difficult question.
What’s your answer, then?”
“No?” ventured Halfshaft, hoping that this might be an appropriate
response to whatever he had just been asked.
“Not at all?” asked the Ringmaster in surprise.
“Well maybe just a tiny bit,” the wizard back-tracked an inch or two.
“He’s lying,” said Cherry, with what sounded like a forced laugh. “Of
course he fancies me!”
Halfshaft panicked. So that was the question! He had just embarrassed his
team-mate in front of everyone in the tent, along with all the tiny little people
in the box (whose opinion seemed to matter to her very much). Actually,
humiliated her might be nearer the mark. She was very conscious of her
appearance; even someone as unperceptive as him had been able to work
that one out. And he had just declared to the world that she was unattractive.
It was bad enough that he was going to throw the Games so that the pair of
them would lose, but he had now quite literally added insult to injury.
The obvious thing to do was to admit that he had misheard the question,
and to assure everyone who would listen that he fancied her very much.
Which was, after all, very much the truth. Not in the same way as Takina of
course; it was different with her. He would have married Takina tomorrow
if she had miraculously expressed an interest in wedding a testy old wizard
with arthritic joints. But he would never have married Cherry even if she
had declared her undying love for him. The girl was way too high
maintenance for him. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have jumped her,
though, given half a chance.
But Halfshaft being Halfshaft, his first instinct was to save himself.
Admitting he had misheard would make him look stupid in front of all the
tiny box-people; best to just explain in a sentence or two why she was not to
his particular taste, and then move on to the next question. Everyone would
surely be happy that way.
“She’s quite pretty and all that, but she’s not my particular -”
“Quite pretty?” hissed Cherry. “Have you seen me? Look at this face!
You’re either mad or blind or both!”
“And a bit too busty for my liking,” he continued, determined to justify
himself. “I prefer my women to be a little more…..aerodynamic.”
Cherry stared at him in incredulous disgust. She couldn’t have looked more
outraged if he had just expressed a desire to nosh off her nan.
“Aerodynamic? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a little – top-heavy for me. All very nice and all that, but not my
particular cup of tea.”
“Anything else wrong with me?” she enquired icily. “I take it that my arse
meets with your approval? And I’d advise you to think very, very carefully
before you answer that.”
“Language,” cautioned the Ringmaster. “Why does no-one seem to be able
to keep it in mind that this is a family show? We’ve had over three thousand
complaints about the witches already.”
“Your bottom’s fine,” Halfshaft shrugged. “Very pleasant.”
“Pleasant!” she shrieked. It was the first time he had seen her so rattled,
and it took him by surprise. “You think my arse is “pleasant”? That’s not
what you said yesterday, was it?”
“I don’t recollect saying anything about your bottom yesterday, or any
other day,” he said defensively. But he knew what was coming.
“Yesterday,” she said through gritted teeth, “you told me that I had the most
incredible arse that womankind has ever been blessed with. That you wanted
to fall down on your knees and worship it. That you wanted to mould it into
a statue and put it on every street corner in the world. That you wanted to
give it it’s own name.”
The wizard shifted uncomfortably, deciding whether to deny everything.
She was making him look like a complete and utter pervert. Which he was,
of course, but he didn’t want the people in the black box knowing that.
“That’s enough,” said the Ringmaster. “She’s going to get us closed down
if she keeps on saying that word.” He beckoned to the hunchbacks. “Take
her away.”
Halfshaft sighed a giant sigh of relief. This particular ordeal appeared to be
over. But Cherry had other ideas.
“And then later on, in the Big Top, you said something else, didn’t you?
Can you remember what you said to me?”
Two hunchbacks grabbed her arms and started to frog-march her away.
Halfshaft cast an anxious look towards Takina, and then back to Cherry
again. “Let’s talk about this later,” he squirmed.
Cherry was very nearly out the tent now. She raised her voice, determined
to be heard whilst still on camera, to repair the damage her wizard friend had
done to her reputation before she was separated from her audience.
“You said that my arse was better than Takina’s,” she shouted.
“Incomparably better! So if you’re now disrespecting my bottom, Heaven
knows what you must think of hers!”
She disappeared through the exit. Halfshaft looked at the black box, and
gave it a weak smile.