The Still-Incredible Baby Man!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  No Houses
Read the title, what do YOU think it's about?

Submitted: August 10, 2015

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Submitted: August 10, 2015

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Shorty was a bundle of nerves as the hour of the grand opening of 'Shorty's 3-Ring Adventure Circus' was fast approaching. In actuality he was two rings short, but one ring was all that would fit in the dumpy little hall he had rented, but 'Barnum and Bailey' must have had to start somewhere. The place had started life as an X-rated movie theater, but the burgeoning home video craze had caused all the pervo's to wear their raincoats at home. It's next incarnation found it as a warehouse for produce, and the air still carried the scent of onions. Lately it had been vacant, and Shorty had made friends with lots of spiders. Apparently they weren't put off by the smell of onions. He had tried and tried scrubbing the walls, ceiling, and floor to get rid of the smell, and it had helped but the odor still lingered.

 

When he had met the guy who was renting the hall in person, he had only talked to him on the phone up until then, the guy had the same reaction that everyone else had--staring in disbelief and looking over his head in a vain attempt to find his parents. It still pissed him off but he was used to people's reaction.

"If you're looking for my parents, don't bother; I'm my own man," and just like everyone else, when he threw a stack of twenty's on the counter he quickly handed him the key and snatched up the money, after first inspecting it to make sure it was real.

******

It was time--the teenage kid he'd hired to take tickets slipped into the ticket booth and the dude he had recruited from the bus stop bench unlocked the door. Shorty watched discretely from behind the curtain of the stage, nervously puffing on and chewing on a cheap cigar. True, it didn't taste very good, but he didn't notice much--what if nobody came?  The end of his dream before even the first show--but when the dude staggered and somehow managed to get the door open the site that greeted his eyes quickly did away with his doubts, as a crowd of people swarmed the ticket office.

******

When the same teenager he'd hired to sell tickets had sold out all 74 tickets he ran inside and quickly picked up the microphone sitting in the chair under the glare of a spotlight. 

"Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, prepare to be amazed! In just a few seconds you'll see what looks like a small baby walking around and speaking directly to you! I guarantee you, you'll never have seen such an amaz---"

His spiel was rudely interrupted by a man who'd obviously been drinking, "What else you got? If I paid $25 just to see a little person in a suit, I'm going to be pissed!"

 

Backstage, Shorty heard the rude comment and got hacked and stormed for the curtain, until common sense grabbed him by the short hairs. What was he doing? He had to control his rage--he was the owner now. He had the image of the circus to think about. He wanted people to come back, not stay away because the star attraction was a dick-baby.  So he waited in a silent rage as teen MC finished his introduction,

 

"...ladies and gentleman, look to the center ring and behold Shorty, The Incredible Baby Man!" The curtain parted and there was an audible gasp as the audience caught sight of Shorty. 

 

"Hello, ladies and gentleman,' said Shorty, amid the blinding spotlights. "Shit, those fuckers are bright--err--I mean--my name is Shorty, Sho for short; eh, ha, ha! I'd like to welcome you to the show," I'd like to, but you're nothing but a collection of moronic ass-people! he thought to himself, "I'll give you good folks a demonstration of my unique abilities and then I'll open it up for questions." 

******

He had finished his demonstration and was nearing the end of the questions from the audience, which so far had consisted of the usual bullshit questions he was so used to--'Why are you like that?", blah, blah, blah! But even though he was sick of their asinine questions he politely answered them all, until the same drunk idiot who had flipped the teen-MC shit, stood up and asked,

"Sure, you're small, but I'll bet you're bank account isn't--what a rip this freak show circus is; $25 bucks for this? This is a rip-off show, Sho!" and he chuckled and looked around for other people laughing at his quick wit.

It took every ounce of Shorty's self-control not to rip the guy a new one. After a few seconds of giving a sex act look to him, he quietly said, "Sir, I'm sorry you feel that way," I'm sorry I can't pound your fricking head into next week!  "We aim to give everyone a good show and a fun time."

 

"Well, you've failed miserably!" the rude dude slurred into the microphone.

******

Finally, the last person-loser had left, and nothing but the sound of the air conditioner whirring could be heard by a livid Shorty. He was pissed still about the fact he just had to sit there and take it while Loser-Clown-Drunkard regurgitated his vile bullshit all over the hall. It conjured up a vision of Linda Blair in 'The Exorcist" blowing chunks every-fricking-where, except it was bullshit-ignorance, not vomit, this dude was ralphing. Oh well, he was kind of proud of himself for his verbal restraint. He just had to remember it was his show now, and he just had to eat any ranks he so longed to hurl in the moron's direction.

 

It was still warm out as Shorty locked the door and started to walk away. Over all, it had gone pretty well--it was a nice beginning anyway.  He was headed for the bus stop, a few blocks away, and had gone about two blocks when, as he was passing 'Guido's Tavern' and had just gone by the open door when he heard a familiar voice,

"...this place blows, and so do you apparently, or at least that's the way it looks to me!" It was the voice of the same dick who had flipped him shit about his circus. Shorty then watched an angry guy, apparently the bartender, and not saying a word, storm out of the doorway and angrily take a swing at the drunk guy, who side staggered the punch and threw a punch of his own, and a sound like splattering meat echoed up and down the street. The bartender fell where he stood and the rude guy gave him a triumphant look and staggered down a nearby alley.

 

Shorty, who had ducked behind a parked car, and with fresh anger flooding his brain, came out of hiding. He'd be damned if that drunk dickhead would just walk, or stagger, away this time. He waddled down the same alley and followed. Luckily for him, the guy had stopped and was pissing on a building, because with his short legs, it would have been impossible to keep up. When he saw the drunken idiot, who must have fancied himself quite a fighter after how he'd dispatched the bartender, he got pissed all over again and charged up to him, jumping up and knocking his hand from his dick. 

"What the hell?" the dude roared, piss spraying his legs. He lividly looked around until he looked low enough to see Shorty, who acidly announced,

"You're a dickhead!" and before the guy could prepare himself, launched a roundhouse right straight into his unprotected groin. Mr. Tough-Guy screamed an ungodly scream, in decibels only dogs can hear, and collapsed to the cement. Shorty gave a disgusted glance at the collapsed dude holding his nuts like a starving squirrel and spit,

"Not so tough now, are you? That's for fucking up my circus with your ignorant bloviating!" and then, as the now-soprano guy was screaming and roiling around on the ground, he launched a powerful punch to his face and all movement ceased--the dude was out cold--then Shorty simply waddled his way out of the alley and continued on his way to the bus stop.

 


© Copyright 2020 Mike Stevens. All rights reserved.

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