Pages Torn From a Travel Journal by Edward Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

be–”
    “Shhh! It’s my husband. He’ll thrash me if he thinks I’m lollygagging!”
    “Thrash–”
    “Howard, put your arm around me. If he thinks you’re a john then he won’t beat me.”
    I hardly had time to decipher her meaning, but did as asked. “This is crude,” she said next, “but . . . you’ll understand . . . ,” & as we slowly made the turn, in full view of this wretched overseer O’Slaughnassey, Bliss stopped on her crutches a moment, kissed me quite lewdly, & also caressed my crotch for the briefest moment.
    I tensed, my member reared like a teased beast. I could’ve fallen over at the sweet shock.
    “Let’s keep going now, quick!”
    Dazed, I did as instructed. In the corner of my eye, I saw O’Slaughnassey disappear back into his trailer.
    “I’m sorry, Howard,” Bliss explained, strangely winded. “You don’t understand the situation with my husband, but I had to do that because–”
    “To project to your husband the pretense of going about the business that he forces you to engage in, yes–I understand.” To the Pit of the Shoggoths, I wished O’Slaughnassy. To be sodomized by para-dimensional monstrosities forever would suit him just fine.
    She sighed, but in relief this time. “I’m so happy you understand, Howard. I would never do such things if I wasn’t stuck in this awful carnival.”
    “Of course, you wouldn’t.”
    “If only I could hide enough of my earnings to get away, or . . . ”
    Get away, her words rolled in my head. A dream was already forming: that she get away . . . with me . . .
    It was short work I made of the ambrosial candied apple, & lascivious thoughts indeed that occupied a recess in my mind, namely the image of myself giving oral ministrations to a panting & arch-backed Bliss while her strange compacted feet held the back of my head. Certainly, her climax would be all-encompassing, & just as certainly her delectable sex would taste sweeter than the apple. Ah, but what a ludicrous if not wholly uncharacteristic phantasy, eh? Following the throng’s clockwise current, Bliss pointed out more of the show’s prominent features; we hadn’t yet traversed this side of the midway, & I found the pickings here more interesting &, I dare say, more outre. Better still, with Bliss as my escort, I was admitted to each specialty tent for free!
    A small queue gathered about an elevated stage for one Hawberk, the Sword-Swallowing Man! First, objects less substantial disappeared down the artist’s throat: a candle, glass shards, even a summer squash. Hawberk himself seemed older even than the wretch O’Slaughnassey but corded with cable-like muscles. Meager applause followed each demonstration, until one young heckler piped, “Aw, this ain’t nothin’! I want my money back!” At this, Hawberk smiled & hefted finally a sword of extraordinary length, then dropped it into his mouth where it easily disappeared to the hand-guard. When he extracted it, the summer squash came with it–quite a trick–and the crowd applauded more heavily; but the brazen heckler’s harassment did not abate. “Aw, I seen that trick a hunnert times at shows better’n this, old man!”
    “Oh, have ye now?” Hawberk retorted. “So jest ye tell me, whippersnapper! Have ye seen better than this? ” & in a sudden lurch, the oldster buckled over, & from his mouth shot a shimmering, 6-foot-long black snake which slapped hard on the floor, & the appearance of which sent half the crowd running for the exit & the other half jumping back several yards. The snake side-wound itself beneath the stage as applause rose like surf. It was quite a formidable spectacle, but outside Bliss chucklingly explained that 1) the brash heckler was actually a “shim,” i.e., a low-order carnival employee whose insertion into the crowd was deliberate, & 2) the “snake” was really just a rubber prop whose exit was effected by invisible fishing line–visually believable thanks to the power of