After almost twenty four hours working the crowd at a sad little tiger show in the parking lot outside a Wal Mart in Davidson Illinois, a pair of clowns threw on their overcoats and set out into the snow.
- Andre Bones the Silent Clown
- Jesus Rinconsito the Sad Clown
The pair of ex-cons were only interested in one thing: the liquor store down the interstate, whose lights they could barely see through the blowing snow. They trudged forward across the field that separated the motel parking lot from their prize. Almost immediately their shoes got soaked. Andre toppled over and knocked Jesus down. The two fell to arguing and almost fought, but kept it together through the trek.
WHITE HORSE Spirits and Cigars was the last business in a strip mall of closed or empty properties. The guy behind the counter wore a polo shirt so small it looked like a wife beater on him. He wasn't happy to see a pair of clowns, whose greasepaint had frozen during the trip but was now melting off their faces. He tapped the WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE sign with a greasy finger.
Andre slammed his fistful of crumpled bills on the counter. While the pagliacci argued with the shopkeeper, the mime noticed a woman outside the shop. She watched the two clowns with a glove clasped in her teeth, using her bare hand to work the buttons on a battered Nokia. Every inch of visible skin was covered in tattoos. Andre went outside to discourse with her. He couldn't speak, but he could pantomime complex ideas his throat scar wouldn't let him say out loud. He asked if she could act as an intermediary in the purchase of intoxicating liquors, since the shopkeep didn't seem to like them very much. She happily agreed, purchasing two bottles of Kentucky Deluxe whiskey flavored neutral grain spirit product.
The clowns went outside, cracked their bottles and began sipping. They were experienced alcoholics and they rationed their fix carefully. The lady stood under the awning of the Vietnamese nail salon next door and sent another text message. She was still watching them, and Bones entertained her with a mime act. She laughed at Andre's suggestion that she come back with them to their hotel room, but offered them a ride - they didn't deserve to trudge through the snow and get their feet all frostbitten.
The gang climbed into the tattooed lady's seagreen Civic. The clowns got the feeling she was also part of the traveling circus trade, especially when they learned her workname: The Eyeball Kid. The group passed a blue DOUG FUCHS PLUMBING van parked on the highway shoulder. Jesus asked the Kid what the deal was with that. She claimed to have no idea, but looked at it in the rear view mirror for a lot longer than was necessary.
The motel parking lot was almost full, with circus trucks, trailers and the ringmaster's tour bus occupying most of the spaces. The Kid pulled over and the clowns got out. She told them they were good guys, and they needed to duck. They dropped prone as a supersonic whip struck above their heads, shattering the window behind them a second before they heard the rifle shot that did it - from the direction of the plumbing van. The clowns scrambled behind the front of the car, hoping the engine block would protect them from further sniping.
That's when they saw the tiger.
It was a Siberian beast, larger than the ones in the circus' tiger act, pelt marked with healed scars from whips and tiger goads and electric prods. It ran toward them with clear killing intent. It killed Andre to give up the bottle he had worked so hard for, but the mime tossed the half-finished vessel of KD at the charging monster. The bottle broke over the big cat's head. It swore in intelligible English and fell over mid-pounce. The clowns weren't fazed by the talking animal, but the Eyeball Kid got out of her car to render assistance to the beast. The tiger reflexively pawed at his face, making the glass injury worse in the process. The Kid got the monster calmed down with some help from Andre, and the tattooed woman told him the score: the clowns needed to unlock the trailer and let the rest of the tigers out, unless they wanted to be eaten or shot.
At this point the rest of the circus performers and associated roadies had woken up and were filtering out of the motel to investigate the commotion. They stopped filtering and took cover when the sniper by the plumbing van laid down suppressing fire, randomly shooting at the hotel balcony. Uninterested in dying for their shitty minimum wage clowning job, Andre and Jesus ran across the parking lot and undid the bolt holding the tiger trailer shut. Three beasts (Khan, Toni and Bernadette) ran out, ignoring the clowns' attempts to communicate with them.
The plumbing van pulled up, driven by a woman with a rifle and an enormous thermal sight. She skidded to a halt and resumed awkwardly shooting the rifle out the driver's side window as the free tigers ran into the van. Her gunfire didn't hit anyone but kept the circus performers pinned while the talking tiger and the Eyeball Kid got back into the civic and fled the scene. With all the tigers rescued, the lady with the rifle gunned the accelerator and followed her onto the highway.
By this point the ringmaster had woken up and was stomping around in his tour bus, tripping over things in the dark as he looked for the light switch. Andre and Jesus didn't care. They had survived the clown death march, and went back into the hotel to split the remaining bottle.
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