Carnival Chaos

by Ron Bates

  Djimmi the Great was a powerful genie with a turquoise turban and a magic carpet. He told fortunes. He ate fire. He turned himself into an elephant and then an alligator and then an elegator (which was an alligator with the head of an elephant) and finally a pop-up toaster.

  “And now, my friends, I shall perform my most remarkable feat,” Djimmi announced. “I shall charm the deadliest creature on the seven continents—the venomous cobra!”

  Then, from out of thin air, he conjured a long, slender pipe. It wasn’t the smoking kind of pipe, or the kind that attaches to sinks or toilets or radiators. This was a musical pipe, and Djimmi lifted it to his lips and began to play a strange, haunting tune. Well, that was impressive enough, but it was only the beginning. From the baskets on each side of him, two large snakes appeared. They rose slowly upward, moving rhythmically to the sound of the music. As far as Cuphead could tell, they were completely hypnotized, which he found absolutely astonishing (of all the things he’d ever seen done with a magical pipe, a basket, and a couple of snakes, this was by far the best). But what he didn’t know was that the snakes weren’t the only ones being charmed. Without realizing it, Cuphead had begun doing a kind of wiggly, wavy dance. Of course, he was completely unaware of what was happening, which was probably for the best. Because at that very moment, one of the enormous serpents wriggled down from the stage, wrapped itself around him, and slipped its tail into his pocket. Then, with the grace of a cat burglar (which isn’t easy for a snake burglar), it snatched Elder Kettle’s birthday gift money, and made a sinister, slithering retreat to the basket.

  Now, it would be one thing if this were the work of a single snake (who may have had an unhappy childhood or gotten in with the wrong crowd), but it was worse than that. You see, there were other snakes in the tent during that performance, picking the pockets of other wiggly, wavy dancers. Where they came from is anyone’s guess, but there’s no doubt who was behind it all. At Djimmi’s musical command, the slithery gang turned, brought their treacherous take to the stage, and deposited it into the decorative baskets of various shapes and sizes.

  Elder Kettle’s warning about the carnival was proving more and more correct.

  When the last snake had slinked away, Djimmi put down his pipe and took a low, grateful bow. The audience snapped out of its trance just in time to deliver a thunderous round of applause. As for Cuphead, he thought the show was spectacular. He couldn’t wait to tell Mugman.

  Mugman!

  “We’ve got to get going!” he cried.

  But they weren’t going anywhere. The tent was packed with spectators, and it would take forever to get through them. Cuphead looked around.

  “Follow me,” he told Ms. Chalice.

  The two of them climbed onto the stage, hoping to get out the back way. Instead, they were stopped dead in their tracks.

  Genies, it turns out, are touchy about having their performances interrupted, and Djimmi was no exception. No sooner had Cuphead and Ms. Chalice stepped onstage than the two giant, golden swords that towered above everything else swooped down and formed a barrier in front of them. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was when the blades moved forward, sharpening each other like carving knives before a turkey dinner.

  Cuphead gulped. He hadn’t expected magical swords, and sweat flowed from his cup like an overfilled bathtub. Still, he wasn’t one to run from a fight. Summoning his courage, he stepped in front of Ms. Chalice, reached behind his back, and pulled out a sign.

  FREE FENCING LESSONS! it said, and there was a big red arrow pointing to the exit.

  Instantly, the swords swooshed past them and over to the exhibit hall, where a man in overalls was giving a demonstration on how to build a picket fence. They were captivated.

  “Boy, swords sure are crazy about building fences,” said Ms. Chalice.

  And with that, they were off again.

  Fortunately, nothing else happened while they were taking the shortcut to the back of the tent.… Well, there was one little snag. It seems that as they were racing across the stage, Cuphead’s straw accidentally caught a loose end dangling from Djimmi’s turban. And since Cuphead kept running, the turban kept unrolling and unrolling and unrolling. By the end, Djimmi was twirling around like a magical tornado. He knocked over the rugs and the lamps and the silks and—for a grand finale—the baskets. As you can imagine, the sight of their personal belongings spilling out in a jumble of reptilian robbers caused quite a stir in the audience. Which is why Djimmi decided this would be the perfect time to go into his disappearing act. He bowed, turned himself into a puff of orange smoke, and fled to the safety of his lamp.

  Now, if you had wandered in off the street a minute or two later, you might have wondered why an angry mob was standing on the stage kicking an oil lamp around like a soccer ball. Suffice it to say this is what angry mobs do. By the time they finished, the lamp was dented and scratched and generally brutalized, and there’s no reason to believe Djimmi made out any better.

  Cuphead pulled loose an annoying strip of cloth that, for some reason, was hanging from his straw.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “There,” said Ms. Chalice.

  She pointed to something in the distance. Cuphead couldn’t make out exactly what it was, but it looked like a stretch of railroad track an angry giant had tied into a sailor’s knot.

  “Jeepers, what’s that?” he said.

  When he looked back at Ms. Chalice, she was grinning from ear to ear.

  “That, buddy boy, is the Dizzy Borden,” she said excitedly, “the swerviest, curviest, niftiest, swiftiest roller coaster in the whole wide world!”

  “Roller coaster?” Cuphead gulped.

  Oh dear. He knew there was something about the carnival he didn’t like, but it had gotten lost in all the wonderfulness. Before he could say another word, Ms. Chalice grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the midway.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  The midway was the heart of the carnival, the section with all the best rides, games, and cuisine-on-a-stick. In every direction, Cuphead saw something that looked like the most fun he’d ever had in his entire life—well, every direction but one.

  “There she is,” Ms. Chalice beamed. “Ain’t she a beaut?”

  Cuphead turned and looked up. And up. And up. From what he could tell, the Dizzy Borden was a twisting, looping torture device created by maniacs who hoped to bring a little more misery into the world. The sight of it made his stomach do somersaults.

  “You want to go on that?” he asked.

  A lump as big as an acorn jutted out of his throat.

  “Well, sure,” Ms. Chalice said. “Look at it. It’s the bee’s knees. The ant’s pants. The elephant’s adenoids! See how high it climbs? We’ll be able to see the whole park from up there! Pretty great way to find Mugman, don’t you think?”

  Just then, Cuphead heard a ferocious roar and terrified screams. When he turned around, he got his first up-close look at the Dizzy Borden in action. It appeared to be some kind of prison train made up of little carts, where you were strapped in and flung back and forth and upside down at speeds that would peel off your face. None of this sounded helpful.

  “Well…,” he said.

  “What’s the matter, Cuphead? You’re not scared, are you?”

  Scared? How dare she ask if he was scared! Cuphead crossed his arms and scrunched his face into a look of defiance. He’d never been so insulted.

  “Of that? Heck no,” he lied. “I’ve seen baby buggies that moved faster.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Oh, there’s no problem. It’s just that—” He stalled, trying to come up with an excuse. “Well, the track keeps flipping upside down. And if we’re upside down, we’ll, uh, only see people’s feet. You don’t expect us to recognize Mugman by his feet, do you?”

  Ms. Chalice thought this over. It didn’t sound quite right, but it made sense in a Cuphead kind of way
. She tried to hide her disappointment—but not very hard.

  “I guess not,” she muttered. “Oh well, it was just an idea.”

  “And a dilly of an idea,” Cuphead assured her. “We just need a different ride. Like that one.”

  He pointed to a big, very slow-moving wheel with nice, safe chairs. It looked a lot like sitting on a park bench, but without the thrills.

  “The Ferris wheel?” Ms. Chalice groaned.

  “Sure! Look how high it goes. It’s the perfect ride for looking around.”

  Ms. Chalice rolled her eyes. Now she’d be stuck on a dull ol’ Ferris wheel and never get to ride the roller coaster. But if they wanted to find Mugman, she supposed it would do.

  Cuphead gave a sigh of relief. He’d managed to avoid the Dizzy Borden and still keep his reputation as the most courageous boy on the Inkwell Isles. As far as he was concerned, things couldn’t have worked out better.

  “Two, please,” he told the Ferris wheel operator, and reached into his pocket.

  That was strange. It felt a lot emptier than it had earlier. But he figured with all the running they were doing, the money was bound to have settled a little. He was about to dig deeper (it was sure to be in there somewhere) when the ride runner cleared his throat the way rude people do when they’re tired of waiting. So he reached into his other pocket (Cuphead always kept a few things in his other pocket so he wouldn’t walk lopsided) and pulled out a couple of nickels. The next thing he knew, they were on the Ferris wheel, climbing high into the air.

  “Just look at this view,” he said, smiling. “Isn’t it swell?”

  “Whoopee,” grumbled Ms. Chalice. “Wait’ll I tell the kids at school.”

  She didn’t sound very sincere, but it didn’t matter since Cuphead wasn’t listening. There was too much to see. As they reached the top of the wheel, he realized he could look out over the whole carnival. It really was a sensation. He saw the Stilt-a-whirl (where you were spun around by a man on stilts), the Hat-a-pult (which catapulted you out of an enormous derby), the Yak-robats (possibly the bendiest yaks ever to put on leotards), and lots of other rides and shows and attractions—and something else.

  “Eureka!” he yelled.

  Ms. Chalice got very excited.

  “You found Mugman!” she cheered.

  But Cuphead hadn’t found Mugman. He had, however, found the next best thing.

  “It’s Cala Maria,” he said. “I’d know her anywhere.”

  Sure enough, the isles’ best-known mermaid was standing at the other end of the midway having a delicious-looking frozen vanilla phosphate on a stick. Cuphead didn’t see Mugman, but there was a good chance he’d be nearby.

  “Now all we have to do is get down from here,” he said.

  Only… that wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded.

  You see, the Ferris wheel operator who normally got riders up into the air and back down again was not at his usual post. Instead, there were three replacements: Beppi the Clown, Sally Stageplay, and Djimmi the Great.

  “Are those the ones?” asked Beppi.

  “That’s them. They’re the brats who ruined my show,” said Sally.

  “Show?” snapped Djimmi. “They nearly got me killed!”

  Typical villains, always blaming someone else for their problems. It’s true their encounters with Cuphead and Ms. Chalice hadn’t gone very well. Sally was a patchwork of bandages, Djimmi’s arm was in a sling, and Beppi wore an ice pack like a little French hat. Still, only a monster would try to take revenge on two helpless children.

  Which, of course, is exactly what they did.

  Beppi (who, as a clown, understood that timing is everything) waited until Cuphead’s chair reached the very top of the Ferris wheel before he calmly extended his hand and pulled a long, rusty lever. The ride stopped.

  “Hey!” yelled Cuphead. “What’s the big idea?”

  You couldn’t blame him for being annoyed. Just when it looked like they might actually track down Mugman, they ended up stuck on a gigantic wheel of misfortune.

  “Get us moving, will you?” he groaned.

  And in the gravity-deprived seconds that followed, he groaned even more. But then, like ice cracking on a frozen pond, that terrible, twisted smile returned to Beppi’s face.

  “You heard the boy,” he told Djimmi. “Get ’em moving.”

  Nothing could have pleased the genie more. He stood next to the Ferris wheel and said these words: “One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, now watch me grow!”

  And grow he did. He grew until he was every bit as tall as the ride, and maybe an inch or two taller. Grabbing hold of the spokes, he gave the wheel a good hard spin.

  It whirled like the blades on an electric fan.

  Cuphead screamed. His stomach was where his eyeballs should be, his eyeballs were where his brain should be, and his brain floated above him like a squishy little cloud. He grabbed the chair and held on for dear life, wondering how he’d ever make this up to Ms. Chalice.

  “Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” she squealed. “Now, this is more like it!”

  Sally, who never appreciated any performance that wasn’t her own, had seen enough. She raised her parasol and poked the giant genie in the ankle.

  “She’s enjoying it, you magical meathead! Do something!”

  Djimmi took a deep breath, the kind that made his eyes bulge and his chest puff out like a vacuum cleaner bag, and blew. It hit the ride with the force of a hurricane, whirling the wheel so fast you could barely see it. This time, there was no scream from Cuphead, and no squeal from Ms. Chalice—there was only the sight of them being flung out of their seat and sent streaking across the sky.

  Now, if you’ve never been thrown from a Ferris wheel and sent sailing halfway across a carnival, you probably think the worst place you could land would be on top of a bear. But you would be wrong. The worst place would be on top of a bear riding a unicycle across a tightrope during an aerial act, which Cuphead discovered completely by accident. On the bright side, the audience seemed to enjoy this new twist on an old standard, and they burst into wild applause. They grew even louder when, a moment later, Ms. Chalice landed on Cuphead’s shoulders, forming the rarely seen girl-boy-bear triple-decker sandwich on a unicycle.

  “Sorry to drop in on you,” she apologized.

  But the balancing bear had bigger problems. With Ms. Chalice’s arrival, the tightrope stretched downward, then sprung back up like an archer’s bowstring, sending the little one-wheeled contraption flying into the crowd. Carnival-goers leaped out of the way as the teetering trio blazed down the midway. They might have rolled right out the front gate and on to parts unknown had they not first run into the strongman, who was lifting a heavy-looking dumbbell, and then into an unfortunately placed cotton-candy cart. Even so, they continued for a good distance, but a pink, gooey ball of fluff containing a bear, two hitchhikers, and a strongman can roll only so far, and they crashed—with a splat and a thud and an oof—into the aisle.

  When Cuphead looked up, he saw a pair of sparkling eyes staring down at him. It was Cala Maria.

  All right, where’s Mugman?” Cuphead demanded.

  Cala Maria gave a bored sigh. “Same place he’s been the past half hour.”

  She pointed into the air.

  Cuphead looked up. There was Mugman, riding in a tiny airplane twirling round and round on a chain. He wore a smile that, if anything, was bigger than his face.

  “The kiddie planes?”

  “He won’t get off,” Cala Maria said.

  It was true. At first, Mugman had been completely under her power. He’d bought her candied crabapples, corny crunchies, butter kabobs, beans-on-a-biscuit, pickle sickles, and lots of other tomfoodery. But all that changed when he spotted the airplane ride.

  “It was like… I didn’t even exist anymore,” she said.

  Cuphead understood completely. Mugman had always been crazy about flying (he’d once spent a week in a nest of baby birds, hoping th
e family would adopt him). But this was taking it too far. It was bad enough he’d come to the carnival, but to end up spinning around on a ride meant for babies—well, that was just embarrassing.

  “Mugman!” he called out.

  Mugman looked down from the tiny aircraft.

  “Oh! Hi, Cuphead!” he sang. “Look at me! Look at me! I’m flying!”

  Cuphead rolled his eyes.

  “You come down from there right now!”

  Ms. Chalice, who had been pulling the last of the cotton candy from underneath her armpits, joined Cuphead and Cala Maria beside the ride. She shook her head.

  “Airplanes,” she said. “We should’ve known.”

  At last, the ride twirled slower and slower until the planes hung down like pom-poms on a lampshade. Mugman crawled out of the cockpit.

  “Hello, Ms. Chalice. Have you met Cala Maria?” he asked. “We’ve been seeing the carnival.”

  Seeing the carnival? Seeing the carnival? Cuphead’s face turned pink, then red, then purplish mulberry. Finally, a burst of steam blew out of his straw.

  “You’re unbelievable!” he snapped. “Do you realize we’ve been looking everywhere for you? We’ve only got an hour until Elder Kettle’s birthday party, we still don’t have a present, and here you were spending good money on kiddie rides!”

  “Oh, not just on rides Cuphead,” said Mugman. “Cala Maria won me this.”

  He held up a small tin monkey—the worst prize in the entire carnival. It looked like something that might come out of a gumball machine if you weren’t lucky enough to get something more valuable, such as a gumball.

  “I told him I’d win him a stuffed animal, but he wanted that instead,” said Cala Maria.

  Ms. Chalice looked confused.

  “What are you going to do with a tin monkey?” she asked.

  “Put it with these,” said Mugman, and he held up a long chain of little tin monkeys linked by their arms. “Look, they’re holding hands.”

  He couldn’t have been more pleased. Cala Maria had seen enough.

  “Well, it’s been fun, but I have to be going now,” she said. “Oh, I almost forgot. You said if I won you the monkey, you’d buy me a souvenir postcard, remember?”