The Circus of Dr. Lao (3 page)

     On her way to the Cash and Carry, Mrs. Howard T. Cassan was momentarily held up by the parade.
     "My, what horrid animals," she thought. "I wonder which one is the fortuneteller — which one of the men, that is."
     From a window in an upper apartment over her head a female voice called down: "Excuse me, please, but can you tell from where you are whether that's a man or a bear in the second wagon?"
     "Why, it's a bear, I believe," Mrs. Cassan called back obligingly. "Though I don't know what kind of a bear."
     "The lady on the corner says it's a bear, Joe," said the voice.
     "Bear, hell," said Joe's voice. "Don't you think I know a Russian when I see one?"
     "Well, dear me!" said Mrs. Cassan.

     The lawyer who prided himself on his extra-legal knowledge watched the parade tolerantly from his kitchen door with his wife.
     "It's sort of pitiful, isn't it?" he said. "A goofy little road show like that hanging silly disguises on animals to make them look like things out of mythology. It isn't even well done. That horse rigged up like a sphinx, for instance. Look at the fool woman's face on the thing. You can tell from here it's paper mâché or something. And those absurd breasts hanging down in front of it."
     "Now, Frank," said his wife, "don't be vulgar, please. What's that man doing in that cage, do you suppose? Is he some sort of a freak?"
     "Why, that's not a man, honey; that's a bear. Looks like a big grizzly from here."
     His wife pretended to smell his breath. "What have you been drinking, Frank, dear? Don't you credit me with enough intelligence to distinguish a man from a bear?"
     Frank looked at her in mock alarm. "I told you last week you ought to get fitted for glasses, honey. I'm going to take you down myself right after lunch and have the doctor fix you up with a triple-strong pair of lenses. A man; haw, haw, haw!"
     His wife got sore. "You make me so damn mad when you sneer that way. I mean when you laugh that sneering way. You do it on purpose. You know good and well that's a man; you're just trying to be funny."
     The lawyer looked at his wife strangely. "All right, honey," he said quietly; "it's a man. Come on; let's go in and eat."
     The telephone rang as they were sitting down. Frank answered it:
     "Hello."
     "'Lo, Frank?"
     "Yeah."
     "This is Harvey. Did you folks see the parade go by just now?"
     "Yeah."
     "Well, so did Helen and I. We couldn't decide what that was in the middle cage. Did you notice? We been having quite an argument, and I thought I'd call you up to settle it. Helen claimed it was a bear in there, but I thought it was a Russian. What did you folks make it out to be?"
     "We're undecided, too," said Frank and hung up.

     Quarantine Inspector Number Two saw the parade as he leaned out of his coupé window to yell at Inspector Number One, who was ambling toward him down Main Street. Inspector Number One got in the coupé and watched with him.
     "Man, that sure is a big snake," he said. "Reminds me of that big sidewinder I killed down on the Beeswax road last spring. Thing had sixteen rattles."
     "Must've been sixteen years old then," said Inspector Number Two.
     "Oh, that's the way you tell, is it? I always figured it was something like that. What do you make of that bear there? Is he a Sonoran grizzly?"
     "I don't see no bear."
     "Well, it's right there in that second wagon, bigger'n hell."
     "You're still asleep, fellah; that's a man. Looks like a Russian."
     "Yeah? Who is it, Trotsky?"
     "I dunno who it is, but it ain't no bear. Say, look at that dog, will you! Ever see a green dog before?"
     "There's lots of things in that parade I ain't never seen before. Just how in hell do you figure that ain't a bear in the middle wagon?"
     "'Cause I seen bears and I seen men; and I can tell a man from a bear as far as I can see either of 'em; and that thing is a man and not a bear; and I'm tired of arguing about anything so damn foolish."
     "All right," said Inspector Number One. "Don't go getting hard about it. I ain't going to argue with you. What do you make of the dog?"
     "Well, it's jest about the biggest dog I ever seen, but I never seen one that color before. Look at its hide; the thing shore has rough hair. Good Lord, its teeth are green, too. Well, what kind of a dog is that, anyway?"
     "You got me. That's a nice little burro pulling the last cart."
     "That ain't no burro."
     "Well, what the hell is it, then; an elephant?"
     "Say, what's the matter with you today? You know that ain't no burro. You know burros've got hair on 'em. You know burros ain't slick like they was made of glass like that thing is. You know they don't shine that way."
     "Well, it looks like a burro."
     "Yeah. You thought that man looked like a bear, too. I don't know what's got into you today."
     "By God, that was a bear! You better pull yourself together, guy. They got a booby hatch in this state for people what gets funny notions." Inspector Number One got out of the coupé. "Don't go getting any funny notions when you're on shift tonight, or somebody's liable to get your job. I'm telling you straight, see?"
     Inspector Number Two lit a cigar. A policeman friend of his came up and jocularly cautioned him about parking too long in one spot.
     "Listen, Tom," said the inspector, "did you see that parade go by just now?"
     "Yeah, I saw the crazy thing. Hell of a big bear they had in one of the wagons."
     "Oh, Lord!" said the inspector and drove away.

     The railroad traffic officer's wife called him up at about eleven o'clock.
     "Ed," she said, "have you seen the circus parade? The children want to go over and watch it, but it's so far from the house I'm sort of afraid to let them. Is it really worth watching, do you know?"
     "Yes, I just now saw it," said Ed. "All they got is three wagons pulled by horses or something. I thought sure there'd be some trucks. I can't imagine how they got into town. I know those beasts didn't pull those wagons all the way from California or from wherever they came. No, the kids wouldn't like it, I don't believe. There's a big snake in one wagon and a wild man or something in the other and a funny-looking dog in the last. I don't think the kids would like it, really. No clowns or anything like that."
     One of his fellow-workers, listening in on the conversation, said: "Where was that wild man, Ed? I must have missed him."
     "In the middle wagon."
     "Ho, ho, ho! That wasn't no wild man; that was a big bear. Funny thing: a couple of guys out in front made the same mistake you did. Thought the bear was a man. Haw, haw, haw!"
     "Well, it surer'n hell looked like a man," said Ed.

     "You been worrying about that circus so much all morning," said the desk sergeant to the chief of police; "there goes the parade now — why don't you go out and look at it?"
     Its inertia broken by these pregnant words, practically the entire force left off lounging around the spittoons and went out on the curb by the parked Black Maria to watch the little procession go by. The old Chinaman driving the first wagon noted the uniforms and bowed to vested authority. The unicorn harnessed between the shafts noted the brass buttons, too, and flinging its icicle horn skyward, whinnied like a bugle and danced on its hind feet. The aged Chinaman flailed it with his lash, and its caperings subsided.
     "That's a high-stepping bronc he's got hooked on there," commented one of the lesser policemen. "How'd it get that horn, d'yuh reckon? Never heard of a horse having a horn before."
     "That ain't no horse," said another policeman; "that's a unicorn."
     "What's a unicorn?"
     "Why, it's something like a cross between a horse and a rhino, I guess. They come from Armenia, I believe, or some goddam place like that."
     "Oh, sure, I remember reading about them in school now when I was a kid. Ain't they awfully rare or something?"
     "Yep. Rarer than hell."
     "Man, that's a big snake in there. Wonder what it is."
     "Looks like a boa constrictor to me."
     "Nope," said one of the motorcycle patrolmen, "it ain't a boa constrictor. It's an anaconda from South America. Teddy Roosevelt caught one when he was hunting down there years ago."
     "Is it poisonous?"
     "Oh, sure. That thing's got enough poison to kill a whole regiment."
     "Jesus! Sure is some snake!"
     "I've seen 'em bigger'n that one when the liquor's in me," said a big fat cop.
     The other officers laughed and agreed. The desk sergeant, who had been watching from the window, called out: "Hey, chief, we ought to have a wagon like that middle one there to pen up drunks in like that feller's penned up."
     "Yeah," said the chief, "it's a good idea; only what feller you talking about?"
     "The one in the wagon."
     The chief chuckled. "Heh, heh. Old Baldy thinks that bear is a man. Guess his sight's failing."
     "I don't see no bear, chief," said the motorcycle patrolman.
     "Well, it's right in front of your goddam nose. Wipe off your goggles and you can see it."
     "I'll be damned if that's a bear," persisted the patrolman.
     "Well," said the chief in disgust, "there's two people I don't never argue with: one's a woman and the other's a damn fool. And you ain't no woman!"

     Mrs. Rogers asked her three children if they had enjoyed the parade.
     "Naw," said Willie. "There wasn't no clowns there, ner elephants, ner nuthin'."
     "Well, I liked it," said Alice. "There was the prettiest little mule. All shiny like it was gold or something."
     "I liked the big green dog," said little Edna.
     "A green dog?" said Mrs. Rogers. "Now, Edna, what are you saying?"
     "Well, it was green, mother. Just as green as grass. Only it didn't never bark or anything."
     "And then there was that thing like that statue on the table," said Willie.
     "What statue?" asked Mrs. Rogers.
     Willie brought the statue in. "This one. What's the name of it, mother?"
     "Well, it's called a sphinx, but I'm quite sure you didn't see a sphinx in a circus parade."
     "Yes we did, mother," said Alice, "a real live sphinx. It looked like a woman sticking her front out of a lion. It was pulling a wagon with a big bear in it."
     "It wasn't a bear," said Edna, "it was a man."
     "It was a bear," said Alice.
     "It was a man."
     "It was a bear."
     "It was a man."
     "Oh, heavens! Don't start that now," said Mrs. Rogers. "What was it, Willie, a bear or a man?"
     "I thought it was a Russian," said Willie.
     Mrs. Rogers sat down. "You children see the strangest things sometimes. What else was there, Alice?"
     "Well, there was a man with horns on his head like a goat; and there was a Chinaman; and there was a snake; and there was a man what looked like God."
     "Oh, Alice," said Mrs. Rogers, "how can you say such a thing?"
     "Well," said Alice, "he looked just like those pictures of Jesus in the Sunday-School book, didn't he, Edna?"
     "Just exactly," said Edna. "Long brown hair and beard and white robes and everything. He looked awfully old, though."
     "Well, was that all there was in the parade?" asked Mrs. Rogers.
     "That's all, mother. There weren't any clowns or elephants or bands or camels or anything."
     "Weren't there any horses?"
     "There was a horse with a horn on its head, but it had a funny tail," said Edna.
     "Well, it must have been a queer parade," said Mrs. Rogers. "I wish I had seen it."
     A little later Mr. Rogers came in with a funny look on his face.
     "What's the matter?" his wife asked.
     "I dunno," said the plumber; "it don't seem right. That parade I saw just now. Oh, yeah, before I forget; I got work, Sarah, nine months' work starting tomorrow."
     "Well, thank God!" said Mrs. Rogers. "Where? Tell me quick!"
     "Oh, maintenance stuff down at the hotel. But I wanted to tell you about that parade. Never saw such a thing. Got a snake there I bet's eighty feet long if he's an inch. And then there was a Chink. Funny old bird. Oh, yeah; but what I wanted to tell you about was a bear they had in a cage. There was a fellah standing beside me tried to tell me it was a man. Ever hear of such a thing? Couldn't tell a bear from a man! I thought he was joking at first, but he got hard as the devil, so I piped down and let him think it was a man. Ever hear of such a thing?"
     "Yes," said Mrs. Rogers, "I've heard considerable about it already this morning."
     "How's that?"
     "Oh, the children saw the parade, too."
     "Oh, they did, huh? That's good. They didn't think that bear was a man, did they?"
     "Willie thought it was a Russian," said Mrs. Rogers.

     At quarter to eleven Miss Agnes Birdsong, high-school English teacher, was down on Main Street waiting for the parade and feeling a little foolish. She felt even more foolish when she saw what a silly little parade it turned out to be. But she looked pretty standing in the shade in her flimsy summer dress; she looked pretty, and she knew it, and she kept on standing there and watching.
     She couldn't quite identify the animals at first. Then she said to herself: "Of course, that thing's a unicorn." Then she remembered that unicorns were figments of the imagination. "It's a fake," she corrected herself.
     She regarded the snake with a slight feeling of illness. She hated snakes anyway; this huge grey yellow-tongued worm with scarlet throat and jeweled eyes bothered her and frightened her. Suppose it should get loose. Of course, it was penned in there, but suppose it should get loose. How terrible. The grinning old Chinaman, noting her concern, reached around behind him with his whip handle and prodded the serpent. It hissed like a truck tire going flat and shifted its slimy coils.
     Miss Agnes shuddered.
     Then she saw the sphinx and the old bearded man driving it and the man in the cage on the wagon. The old bearded man was wool-gathering; the reins lay listless in his hands; his thoughts, far away from Abalone and the business of driving in the parade, played gently in some stray corner of the universe of his mind. The sphinx, noting its driver's inattention, took the bit in its teeth, gave a sluggish leap, and almost snapped the reins from the old fellow's grasp.
     "Pay attention to your business, Apollonius," snarled the sphinx.
     Miss Agnes Birdsong nearly sat down on the sidewalk in amazement. She looked at the people around her, but they seemed not to have heard a word. Miss Agnes touched her pulse and her brow. "I am a calm, intelligent girl," she said firmly. "I am a calm, intelligent girl."
     Then the last wagon came along drawn by the golden ass, driven by the clovenfooted satyr. A little gold ring was in the satyr's nose; beside him on the seat was his syrinx. To Miss Agnes he smelled like a goat. His torso was lean as a marathon runner's; his hoofs were stained grass-green. A grape leaf was caught in his hair. He leered at Miss Agnes; he shielded his eyes with his hand and leered at her. He turned in his seat and stared back at her, staring and staring as though out of his accumulation of years he could remember nothing to compare with her.
     "I am a calm, intelligent girl," Miss Agnes reassured herself. "I am a calm, intelligent girl, and I have not seen Pan on Main Street. Nevertheless, I will go to the circus and make sure."