Archive | May, 2010

Skippin’ Along With My Wooden Leg

25 May

As a small child, Mavis’ wooden leg was funny. Pirates have peg-legs, not small adorable children. Imagine our sweet Miss Sinclair as a curly-haired cherub faced little girl, hobbling around on a limb made of wood. The kids would yell at her, “Mavis looks like an old pirate!” Today, Miss Mave wears her leg with pride. It’s her trademark and an integral part of her act. Without it, she could not beat Gertrude into oblivion and the audience would surely be bored out of their gourds. Although the leg is a benefit to her career, it is a hinderence to her life. This hunk of tree prevents her from participating in many activities that normal folk take for granted. Mavis does not climb trees, ride bicycles, jump rope, skip, hop, drive, can-can, high-kick, swim, take bubble baths, run, break dance, hula-hoop, do the splits, step aerobics, kung fu, karate and the list goes on. However, the leg has been a part of the recipe that has made our heroine Mavis Rose who she is today. If we asked her if she would grow her leg back, I wonder what she would say?


Old Man Gedansk Part II, By Tom Wilson

25 May

Old Man Gedansk into the kitchen walked, pulled out a kitchen chair sat down and began to talk, and as he talked mutt came in, and after failing to find anything good in the bin, curled up on Old Gedansks feet, yawned a big yawn and went to sleep. no i was interupted by a group of loud swedes who wanted to watch ice hockey so couldnt think about old man gedansk, who is about to tell Mr Badger beard all about his moose fur pants…or some such tale, and then i must continue with Mutt and maybe a little chapter on Mr Badgerbeard :)…..and as Mutt took his knap, And badgerbeard changed a leaky tap, Old Man Gedansk told of how, he climb up a mountain that rose up through clouds. For days he sturggled up the icey rock, and kept his bits warm with the clever use of socks……

Topsy Turvy Skirts

25 May

You know that intrinsic feeling you get when you meet someone for the first time?  Sometimes, you think to yourself,”this person is a real asswipe!”  Other times you might think, “well, I might get used to this nimwit.”  There is the rare occasion where you immediately take a liking to a person.  They are the types we dub charisma, charm, personality etcetera.  At the circus, we get A LOT of that.  There are many new people coming and going at any given moment.  So, I have learned, over the years, to keep my guard up.  And when necessary, I am on the lookout for the “newbies”.  Today, was such a day.  (As you may have guessed by the intro)  The wind was glorious!  The flags sailed at their fullest and the tents made a caucophony of bass drum sounds.  It sounded like when my mom would beat the dirt out of the rugs from our wagons.  It was a lovely day.  All of the patrons wearing skirts were squawking each time her dress would flounce up with the breeze.  I saw a lot of cute panties today!!!  Nonetheless, the story is about a newcomer you see?  We have a new act!  This one is quite unique.  It involves an incredible amount of skill, bravery and technique.  This lady comes to us from Switzerland.  She has been in the circus ever since she was three years old.  Her name is Giula and she is a unicyclist/contortionist/fire breather.  And she does not do these things separately;  Giula Giula!!  does these three tricks in unison.  Her technique is of grace and elegance.  We didn’t believe her at first.  (of course)  Even I have been in the circus for almost 100 years and have never seen a person mount a unicycle, contort and proceed to breath fire.  She’s a multi-tasker alright!  Giula is like a one woman band!  It’s pretty incredible.  You’ll have to come out to see for yourself.  First, she mounts her unicycle (which is on a tight rope mind you).  As she gains her balance, her flexible body molds itself into a statuesque shape on the cycle.  All the while, she is contorted using both hands and feet to cycle.  Halfway down the rope at one point, she pulls something from her costume.  Like magic, Guila blows fire from her pursed lips!!!  It’s truly an amazing act!  The crowd was perplexed.  We are glad to have her!!!  -Mavis Rose

Crass Old Matriarch

20 May

I am a hippo trainer. I am an old lady in a young lady’s body. I have a wooden leg. We all have labels and identities. It’s how we distinguish ourselves from other people. If I were standing next to the Siamese Twins, for instance, I would obviously say,”I do not have another person attached to my ass”. It is important that we describe ourselves honestly. Lay it all out on the table! That’s my philosophy! Many people have accused me of being crass. Well, I will tell you, this is because I tell it like it is. I don’t feel the need to filter information when I’m in certain company. I just say what’s on my mind. It’s important that we express what is pertinent to the current topic or situation. To boot, honesty is the best policy. And you all know that I am the matriarch of that! -Mavis

Periwinkle Chomski

19 May

It was a long night. Each and every performer agreed that the message from the audience was that of expectancy. They needed something from us. I think it was that they lusted for our energy and sucked us dry by the end of the night. Elgina mentioned that during her entire act, she was snoozing. And Gertrude and I were beat like whipped cream after our intense pounding session. Now, I’m not saying that this is unusual. We often have nights where we are sucked dry. However, tonight was extreme. As I hobbled to my wagon, I had to use my friendly pachyderm for support. Her sweaty skin left a salty residue on my new sequined tutu. But at that point, I was lackadasical. It was not important. My main goal was crawling into my fluffy bed and nodding off into deep slumber. As my wagon came closer into view, it seemed as if something was placed on the front steps. It was a freshly potted plant. “How odd”, I thought. I looked in all directions to no avail. Who would have placed this pretty pot on my porch? I took a closer gander to survey the plant. It was a magnificent Periwinkle. Hmmmm. How rare indeed. A very timid voice whispered out of the shadows behind my wagon. “Ma’m, I’m traveling around these parts and I’m lookin’ for a place to stay.” As he stepped out of the shadows he rolled a bicycle along his side. With hair disguising his face his head hung low. It was if he were trying to humbly ask for permission with his gestures. There was an immediate sense of trust between me and that man. I told I could most likely get him some lodging with Al the Mechanic. With this, he meandered over to the Periwinkle, and with grace, picked it up and strapped it to the top of his head like a fancy hat! It was a sight to see indeed! A potted Periwinkle on a man’s head with a strap snugly tied under his chin. He wore it as if it were part of his body. I walked him over to Al’s wagon. And just as I figured, Al was fine with the new guest. His name was Periwinkle Chomski. I told him that the next morning, he could ask the circus manager for a job. But, he was gone as soon as he showed up. What an interesting fellow. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again?

Old Man Gedansk…. The Beginning By: Tom Wilson

16 May

The wind is whipping its way from the north east, bringing nought but cold and sleet, the biteing bitter cold is enough to make a grown man weep, but not Old Man Gedansk.
He sits there out on his front porch, oblivious to the weather due to his moose fur pants, moving his knife with unmatched skilll, tis a weapon of creation not to kill, because though his bones may be brittle, Old Man Gedansk cant half wittle, turnng out the most intricate pieces of art that were just lumps of wood when he did start, and as he eyes his latest creation, his dog called Mutt sighs at his station, curled upon his masters feet, he glances up in hope of a treat. Old Man gedansk looks down at Mutt, he cant belive a dog could have such luck, and as he passes Mutt a little snack he leans over to scratch Mutt’s back. He remembers how he found Mutt left for dead, in a ditch with one eye and missing a leg. He took Mutt home and on finest steak he was fed, and by the fire was placed his bed, And while at Old Man Gedansks feet he lays, only love for his master can been seen in his gaze, and while Old Man Gedansk Whittles away, Mutt looks out through the drizzley haze, ready to leap to his masters defence, when ever the post man trys to pass the fence.
Poor old mutt he had such rotten luck, this why he is the state he’s in today, was born in a bin and boy life was grim as his brother and sisters were taken away, by kind hearted people who passed on there way, past the bin where mutt felt he was doomed to stay. Then on a sunny wednesday afternoon, mutt felt his time had come, to have his earesed tugged by kids, and told off for eating dads slippers by mum, because all at oce he felt his world move and so poked his head out for a better view where a big burly man was carrying bin and all to words a big truck with hi side walls, and into this truck the bin was tossed and into a mountain of rubbish mutt was nearly lost, but for mutt he thought he was in doggy paradise, all those smelly smells that only to dogs smell nice. A then the trucks engine gave a mighty roar as it it set of towards the dump and to mutt’s new home mutt felt for sure, that a loving family at the end did wait but he wouldnt find out until it was too late…..”Bad luck mutt when he was a pup”
The truck tipped mutt out at the dump, the massive stinking festering lump, of all the rubbish thrown away, tin cans, old nappies and strange sludge that is grey. But Mutt was content in his new home, the rubbish dump is kingdom which he was free to roam, rummaging about all day in the junk, he would always find something interesting to eat for lunch, A green moldy sandwich one day, a pork bone the next and even some bits of stinky fish left in a broken net, and at night he would curl up and feel content on an old stained mattress in which all the springs had bent. Now at first glance it looks like Mutt has good luck, but when ever any one saw him they would all say ‘yuk! – look at that manky smelly Mutt!’ and at this would feel a little sad so one day he thought he’d try and have a bath, but poor Mutt got it all wrong, bathed in a smelly puddle that didnt half make him pong.
and now his fur was sticky like a treacle tart and you couldnt go near him as he smelt worse than the smelliest of farts……(to be continued)

Rub a Dub Dub… There’s Saw Dust in My Tub!!!

11 May

New town today.  We set up shop and I went exploring as usual.  I always check out the scenery. Both the nature on the outskirts and the more metropolitan areas.  A lot of the time, there isn’t much in the way of city scape where we perform.  Anyway, today I decided to explore the curious section of woods near camp.  I love the peaceful sounds and earthy smells one encounters inside the tall trees.  I had been hiking around for hours.  There were amazing plants everywhere!  And my favorite… moss!  I saw something out of the ordinary off in the distance.  I decided it would be my last adventure before I headed back to camp.  As I wandered closer, I realized it was a small house.  Hmmm…. Who would live out there?  They surely would have to hike for miles to get to civilization.  I assumed no one lived there.  As I reached the front stoop, I did notice a large amount of cob webs and bird’s nests.  I just helped my self to the door.  It was opened.  There was not much in the way of furniture.  But, I was beginning to suspect that it was, in fact, being lived in.  There were dishes on the table and a hint of cooked food in the air.  However, the most prominent aroma was the lovely lingering fragrance of freshly cut saw dust.  As I continued toward the back of the house, there was a trail of dusty footprints.  I felt, at this point, that maybe I should turn around.  But I figured that if I had come this far, I might as well continue.  I followed the saw dust prints for a bit.  As I did, the sound of harmonica music began to fill the air.  The further I walked, the louder it got.  The prints stopped at a door that was slightly ajar, but the music continued.  I was so curious!  The smell, the sound!  I was utterly enticed by it all!  I peeked through the door… You won’t believe the sight I saw!  It was a guy wailin’ on his juice harp in a huge tub full of bubbles!  There was a sixer of beer on the saw dust covered floor!  And guess who this guy was?  None other than my old friend Tindr Badger!  What a small world!  I’m not sure how he was gonna get all that saw dust off by sittin’ in it like that.  I think the bath was more for entertainment.  Nonetheless, it was a sight to see!!!   -Mavis Rose