She is abused and
he is deranged. I never did get that. I prefer to think I am the man in the
equation and that when I lash out it will be at more than a woman.
Barney
found me, sweet man really, he loved to get drunk, downing Baileys in a field.
Heard his rattling bottles before I saw the poor schmuck. He was surprised to
see me, he paused, then he wasn't. He offered me a bottle. I haven't been able
to drink Baileys since. He let me out of the cage I was in, only to put me in
another one. I had a tail see, and I was billed as the devil, I'd make these
real nasty sounds no youngster could, said I projected my voice louder and more
meaner than the devil himself. After six weeks of touring the shows, they all
called me the devil, affectionately I might add. I could appear taller than I
actually was. I knew what people were thinking and about to say. I could kinda
float, this one freaked people out so I didn't do it so much as I could have.
Barney
only fed me before a big show, he liked to keep me hungry and subservient he
said. But I become wise to his tricks and after two years he came stumbling in
an told me I was too old to be the devil and now I was like all the others that
I'd have to find my own way in life.
It
was the only life I had known so I pleaded with him, "Please I'll clean
the shit out of the stables. Trim the bearded ladies bearded lady, I'd man the
machines. I'd become the worlds strongest man, I'll do anything you need. Don't
let me be here all alone you're like a father to me..." he knew I'd have
to have the tail removed to fit into city or town life and I had become
attached to it so. He could crack open a beer and open the fridge all in a
whiplash second.
He
pondered on this for a brief moment, "Tell ya what kid. You keep doing
what you keep doing and I'll see's I can't pull a bigger crowd. It'll require a
bigger advertising budget so I's can't pay ya too much, but let's we can't make
this work."
"Oh
thank, oh thank you." I kissed his feet through my metal chains and lock
as he bumbled away shouting and laughing to himself drunk off his skull on
baileys.
How
foolish was I? I was only young. I should not be punished for earlier
transgressions. Should I?
I
started to steal the shows. The circus was billed as the devils goatee, me
standing an grinning picture and others, sometimes friends.
"Woah."
They screamed.
"He
is a handsome devil isn't he" is there any other?
Some
of the women or effeminate men(too many of those around these days) would throw
their underwear at me.
"He's
Elvis incarnate." They roared. I'd free-ball a few songs I'd heard from
the radio. I was blessed with an amazing singing ability. Just one of many
talents born out of dumb luck I guess.
"Nah
honey I just like to rock n' roll." I'd smoothly say back.
Besides
I was more of Jerry Lee fan but he was
alive and inimitable.
They
started to record my performance on these hand held camera things and before
long the shows were sold out and there was hardly any time for my friends, the
people I had grew up with to perform. Who wants to see a fire eater when they
are in the presence of a rock-god? Barney had me over the dining room table,
metaphorically. Got me drunk and made me sign a contract and when you make a
deal with the devil promises are kept. Of that I am sure. I did what I was told.
But
the crowd they cheered for me and I gave them what they wanted. The same cheap
parlour tricks with a couple of ounces of class from je-ne-sais-moi. And when I
let rip towards the end, my voice softer than honey, more toxic than a cobra,
they tore the seats from the venue. The way I moved my hips, the effortless
almost intoxicated delivery of some of my lines, they had me down for the new
Bond soundtrack, I didn't even know what Bond was. I had no parents but I was
proud for myself.
The
more frequent the performance and the bigger the venues became I started to
open my self up to them. Their numbers to me were incalculable. And an amazing
feat happened, they did not laugh at my childhood like the perennially drunken
Barney, no, instead they felt my pain, pain I did not know I had and when I
belted out the first few lines of hound dog or anything I had listened to on
the radio it meant so much to them. The sadder I told the story, the more tears
that formed in my crooked eyes, the bigger the reaction from the crowd. I
didn't have to try, it was all so easy. I cannot say the same for my amigos of
the circus.
My
compadre's started to snigger whenever they called me the devil and they
frowned when I tried to perform my old parlour tricks. It appears they had
disappeared with age.
All
of this left me upset. Barney could see this and he invited me out for a meal.
I thought it'd just be me and him. When we got there it was anything but.
Greedy, fat, affluent men who ordered too much food more than they could possibly
eat. Yet they did. It took them no time at all.
The
waitress came and she radioed in their orders. All the drinks on a constant
flow. They grinned at her and made advances but she batted them off with real
ease, evidently she was used to the
procedure.
And
the women, oh the women who sat next to these cruel faced dogs, legs up to
their hips, two eyes and a nose and everything. The hair covered and revealed
everything. When they moved, they used their legs...I could not move, yet it
came easy for me.
One
of the fat greasy guys, combover an all leaned over, "You want one? I can
get you anything you need. Just hollah."
I
was not familiar with a middle aged white guy using the term 'hollah'.
I
pointed to the one I craved. I could smell her sex from here.
"No
can do."
"You
said anything?"
"I
could maybe get yer a lookalike but that'd take a few days, y'know recover from
the surgery and whatnot."
"Who
is she?" I whispered.
Then
the food was whisked away and Barney who was quite sober, four or five drinks spread
across an hour, began to speak, "Right not-so-gentlemen..." they
giggled at this and it sent daggers down my spine. "Let's talk
business."
It
took me a while but I realised I was not needed. I got up and went to the
bathroom. Took a slash, played with myself a little bit, thought of what
freedom meant. Money enough to do what you want. But where does one get such an
opportunity and that kind if mula? I hummed to myself as I reached climax. The
door crashed open and my cubicle lost its hunger.
"HEY
GET OUT BUDDY CAN'T YA SEE I'M BUSY HERE?" I projected my best man voice.
When not singing, it is hard for me.
"Hey
don't get busy without me." It was a feminine voice so I left it unzipped.
If it was one of them women-men or she males, I'd plead confusion and hope it
never got out.
Her
leg, the way it bent, not one hair. Then the other, she announced herself by
jumping on me, "I WANT TO BE YOUR FIRST FUCK! YOU'RE GOING TO BE A STAR
AND I'M THE START OF THE JOURNEY."
I
lasted a good while.
"OH
YEAH BABY...OH YEAH, DO IT LIKE THAT."
I
just sat on the toilet and she did her thing.
"OH
WHAT YOU DO TO ME...IT'S ORGASMIC!"
I
think her venom and her willingness to fuck me was a turn off because I felt
she was trying to hurt me, not of the skin, but spiritually.
She
used the word orgasmic a lot. As if there could be no confusion as to what we
are doing.
"OH
BABY. BABY BABY BABY!" she cried in faux jubilant exultation.
She
was so loud they burst in on us. I had just finished and zipped up.
Barney
started hitting me and crying and kicked a tooth out of my head. I did not
fight back. I kind of loved the man.
"That's
it, the deals off. Nobody can have him. He has two more years to run and he'll
be bottom of the bill if I have anything to say bout it."
Their
mouths lowered and stayed vacant, dollar and pound and yen signs flashed behind
the lights in their eyeballs.
Most
nights I didn't get to see the stage. I was left to rot in a cage. Contract
limbo. By the time my contract was up and I was left free, nobody wanted me.
Not a soul remembered who I was. I was probably worth millions to the right man
and company and my voice had not diminished and I was no less talented. I had
no ego. My life had beaten the pretensions out of me.
Turns
out the wife was best friends and having a few liaisons with the bearded lady
(who was actually a man) and the strongest man (who was surprisingly a
hermaphrodite) you couldn't tell, although it would explain the croak in his
voice and his high vibrato when acting as my backing singer. It was she-he who
let me in on the whole fiasco. They were going through a rough time, saving for
the surgery and what not. He was having second thoughts she was fucking
whoever. He felt I should know.
In
my prime rock stars came to see me and some who were anything but. Ed Sheeran
(before he went by that name. Let me see he introduced himself as that annoying
ginger bloke...at least that's how I remember him) came to me for advice and a
little soul giving. I told him, "You
don't have any. Go away and play yer poxy shit." And he did, years later
he doesn't recognise the man at his door.
I
don't know if anything I remember is real. But there's this thing called
youtube and it's making anybody and nobody and cats famous. People talk about
what they brought shopping with daddy's money and people play games. Pornstars
have their own accounts where they talk about their experiences of everyday
life and the pressures of working the industry. People dress up like video game
characters and the comments don't insult them. They are very accommodating I do
not understand this. Talent is not a prerequisite for prosperity and
recognition, in fact, it seems it damn well nearly guarantees a life of
solitude and no money.
You
make a deal with the devil you're alway going to get fucked. And the devil is
not one man or a woman. They come in every avenue of life, postmen who want
christmas tips and stand at the door for a prolonged amount of time, cold
callers, insurance salesmen, Simon Cowell, anything that is a reality
television show, anything written in bold and caps lock in newspaper, anybody
who describes themselves as genuine and honest is anything but, the list is
endless and it is scary.
I
no longer go by the devil. If I am asked my name I start to sing and they think
I am crazy whizzing themselves away and bug some other simpleton. For a while I
performed the club circuit, my back to the audience but they had no
appreciation of fine music or the way it is performed.
Ask
me what I am doing now, my reply is, "Nothing." I don't think I could
be happier.