by Tara Ellis
You are all about to endeavor into the reckless last days of Mr. Artemis Sebring. Life was a game and he played the game of life like he had a pair of dice. He was a total glutton for fun. Before his end, he was given the moniker “a proudly immature man”.
Thirty minutes to show time.
Mr. Sebring, an old and withered man walked into his set trailer that embroidered his name. He was already in full makeup and his usual showmen attire; lavish red jacket, white gloves, eye monocle, fancy boots, and it were topped off with a top hat.
“Okay, okay, okay I just have to do it this one more last time,” he said to himself.
He didn’t turn on the lights; he kept himself in the dark, he didn’t want anybody to know he was there. He tossed the top hat, heading straight for his wooden maple desk. He sits down. Pulls out the drawer….
“Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. How much more can your body take. Okay just do it this last time.”
…And takes out a little brown baggy. He scooped out its contents with the edge of a switchblade. He shook a little off; he just needed enough to come back to life. He held it under his nose, snorted, and became God.
He physically felt nothing, his body went numb, his pupils became large and his heartbeat went rapid; he heard it himself, sounding like the hoofs of a charging mustang. The old man was done away with and replaced by a chipper more exuberating fellow; reminiscent of a phoenix rising from the ashes. He owned the world for about fifteen minutes.
He had convinced himself that coke could be used like a performance enhancer. He would snort before going onstage and would perform a hell of a lot better. Coke, while high, kept him young; kept his pep up for years in the circus industry, hardly ever losing a step.
Twenty five minutes to show time.
He walked over to the blinds, pulled them up, and welcomed all the lights. Moon light, pole lights and lights from the big top pushed his shadow to the wall. His shadow stood about a foot taller than him. The shadow looked down upon Mr Sebring.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “It is no fair for you to be judging me, old man.” He pulled up a chair. “I am running at a hundred percent.” His shadow took a seat as well. “I am young again. I will blow them away like I always do.” Artemis rubbed his hand back through his hair and shadow did the same.
“I will go down in the history books as the greatest entertainer of all time. Do you know why?”
His shadow didn’t care to reply.
“Because of longevity. I am well over three decades in this business. And respected by all sorts of entertainers because I act, sing, dance, and do comedy all in a night. The children, back then, who grew up watching me on television and begging their parents to be taken to my show, now bring their children to see me.”
He leaned back in his chair feeling proud of that fact.
“And you think that is pathetic?”
He picked up his top hat from the floor; placed it on his head and traced his fingers along the brim. His fans thought it always completed him.
“All you ever do is follow me around.” He comes closer to the wall and the shadow went down to his level. “You’re here to just copy every single movement. It’s like the universe gave you to me to record everything I do. That is such an awful existence you have.” Mr. Sebring walked out of his trailer.
Fifteen minutes to show time.
He swaggered towards the direction of the big top. It was 360 feet long by 240 feet wide. It was 50 feet tall at its highest point. It took nearly fourteen hundred employees (majority of them non-performers) 6 dozen animals and a privately owned train to bring Artemis’s version of circus magic to life, each day in a new community.
The employees were scattered about, attending to assigned booths; offering oncoming patrons elephant ears, fried Twinkies, popcorn, hot dogs, etc…
Kids were getting their faces painted before they were to witness the spectacles that were about to unfold in the tent. People were buying Mr. Sebring memorabilia, shirts, hats, buttons, trading cards, posters and even bobble heads plastered with his face. Seeing all the happy faces filled him with a surge of vanity.
He opened a back flap to the tent known as the “back door”, that was the performer’s entrance to the big top.
Crew members and performers were getting things ready behind the scenes. He passed by his main jugglers, Jake and Andre, warming up, hoisting bowling pins in the air.
A trumpet blasted from the back; it was an excited Maggie. She was a 9 foot tall, 3,300 pound African elephant. Maggie flapped her massive ears back and forth creating gusts of wind that Mr. Sebring could feel across the room. She sounded off her loud trumpet; brimming with anticipation. Her handlers kept her preoccupied until she went on.
Ten minutes to show time.
He kept moving forward, passing others by. He went to the side arch where he could look out onto the crowd, behind a big curtain. Once again he saw a full tent, packed, not one empty seat in sight. He was ready to Knock em’ dead.
He comes off the arch. Deep breath, slow exhale.
Out came a voice that was silk and tender. “Hello, Mr. Sebring.” Britney approached him. She had a body that didn’t quit; curves for miles, a perfect tan complexion, and a Mega watt smile.
“We meet again, my Britney. How are things?”
“Things are going quite well Mister…..”
He hardly paid attention to a word she said, his attention was owned by her voluptuousness. She was decked out in a feathery get up, trimmed in lace, sparkles around her cleavage and her derrière; she left little to the imagination. Artemis’s imagination.
His eyes stayed at her lips, plump and bright, she redefined the color red she wore.
After yapping about herself she introduced him to this young girl, barely eighteen, skinny. Standing next to Britney she looked like a plank.
“This is Joyce our latest recruit. I was impressed with her audition and I decided to give her a shot”, Britney said.
“Welcome to our family,” said Artemis.
“Hi,” she replied; just as nervous as she was young.
“Have you ever done show business before?”
“No, but I am no stranger to crowds.” She shivered as she talked. “I was the first runner up in Michigan’s annual gymnastics competition.”
“That sounds remarkable. Are you nervous?”
“No sir.”
Artemis nodded his head toward Solomon as he was being let out of his cage. A rare African white lion, bought straight off the black market, it cost him a very large penny. She glanced over and quickly refocused her attention to Artemis. He saw her eyes widen and her stance stiffened.
“Are you sure?”
Britney spoke up “Quit hassling the newbie. I hired her because she is going to replace Corey as our new trapeze girl.” Britney put her arm around Joyce.
“Thank god, I couldn’t stand Corey, she was just miserable to be around,” Artemis said.
“I know, everyone hated her. She was the biggest pain to deal with on the job. Always complaining, always late for rehearsals, always asking stupid questions; she was never on my good side. So by the time I caught her and Rob having sex in the cabins, I fired her.”
“Rob the techie?! When did this happen?”
“About a week ago. I asked Rob why he would even bother with her. Yeah, Corey had a face on her but she was annoying. He tells me, just like this, ‘I don’t know’. I said what do you mean you don’t know, he says ‘after I did it, I don’t know why I did it for’. I asked then why did you pork her in the first place. He gave me no answer. And then he left to be with Corey.”
“Oh, I liked Rob, he was funny. So now I have to fill his position also.”
Britney chatted away, like she does, almost cut Joyce out of th
e discussion, but she caught herself “I’m sorry Joyce did you have a question for Mr. Sebring.”
She went “um.”
Think of something quick.
“After all the success you had, over the decades, where do you want to go from here?”
“That’s a very good question.” And it was, she now intrigued him. “I don't want to go anywhere with it. I just want to discover where I already am. I perform to make images, to exercise creativity, to express my vision, and to examine who I am. I like to sell tickets, and it makes me happy when others like my work, but what other people think of it has virtually nothing to do with my motivation and goals. Entertaining is not a destination or a journey for me. It's meditation, introspection, recreation.... It's richest for me when I'm going nowhere at all.”
Britney was warmed by that answer.
Showtime.
He hears the voice of his announcer over the drum roll. “Okay, that’s me,” he says. He offered Joyce a little bit of knowledge to ease her nerves “It’s show business, not brain surgery, have fun my little darling.” She stopped shivering. He offered a hand shake and she took it. His eyes traced from her delicate wrist, all the way up her arm, then to her face. Her skin was like Hershey’s chocolate kisses, dark and gorgeous.
He stepped back on the arch, the curtain came up and everything went white.
Help Wanted
