Circus of the Dumb

Chapter 2

Jackson fit right in. With the left side of his head crudely taped and his face coated in the makeup of your classic hobo clown, he was the perfect, albeit temporary, addition to the crew of five who entertained their audience via creative skits. He was practically dragged into the ring time and time again, his legs wobbly and weak from the use of Papa Corn's cattle prod, the gauze against his head dirtied with dust and dried blood. The crowd was "blood-blind", as Pipette so playfully called it, ignorant to any signs of injury or distress from Jackson as he played the part of prisoner during the clowns' performances. There was no need to apply duct tape to his mouth, as the man had appeared to accept defeat early on, too discouraged and physically weakened to cry for help even in the midst of being beaten with inflatable batons. He would remain silent for the entirety of the act, curled into the fetal position upon the ground until Papa sedated him once more, ensuring his continued submission to the very end. It couldn't have gone more smoothly. 

 "I like him," Pipette had commented as she taped a photo of him to the wall, which was already moderately consumed by photographs of various victims and the clowns themselves, though primarily Mister Blister. "He's quiet. Better than the last one." 

 The others didn't seem to take any particular liking to him, though Papa was thoroughly pleased with his temperament. "Crying again, are we?" he'd mockingly question upon settling the man into his chair following a show, bringing his face eerily close as he spoke. "Don't be so sad, Jackson. This show can only go on so long." The statement was spoken honestly, as Papa had always proven to be a man of his word, even when twisting his promises with impressive methods of manipulation; he was technically not a liar, though intensely homicidal and intent on sexually assaulting just about every woman he came into contact with. A real charmer, that one.

Jackson spent his nights alone, shivering, tied uncomfortably to his little chair and interrupted only on occasion by a clown searching for a midnight snack (Noodledome) or a clown needing to use the toilet (often still Noodledome). His neck typically ached horribly in the mornings, the corners of his eyes crusted over from improper sleep and his mouth terribly dry. He would usually be greeted first by Mister Blister, who would violently yank him from his seat with a gruff "rise and shine, asswipe" before preparing him for the day's performances, touching up his makeup and practically swatting the dust from his face and clothing. Pipette seemed to enjoy observing this process, her eyes alight with amusement and accompanied by a strangely warm smile. 

 On one particularly surreal morning, the clowns were to engage in a skit without him, and he was left alone in the trailer with the sole female clown. Jackson was initially terrified; he was very infrequently forced to engage in one-on-one interactions with the clowns aside from Papa Corn and perhaps Mister Blister, and his primary knowledge of Pipette was the overly friendly, almost sadistic expressions she so casually displayed in his presence. He had no way of predicting how she would behave without the influence of her fellow clowns, or what her mindset and motives were—he couldn't help but assume every individual residing within this trailer was a full-fledged psychopath.

"What if I set you free?" she asked within minutes of her friends' departure, her voice low and soothing as she nonchalantly played with a lock of Jackson's hair. She didn't seem to harbor any intent to physically assault the poor man, though he was frightened out of his wits regardless. His wide eyes flickered upwards upon acknowledgment of her question, his breathing shallow and labored. "I've been considering it," she continued, offering him a familiarly warm smile as she knelt down before him. "I sometimes set the cute ones free. And you are, in fact, pretty cute." She reached out with one gloved hand then, using her index finger to gently stroke his painted cheek. He flinched noticeably at the touch, prompting a soft giggle from the clown initiating it. "Pret-ty cute."

From that point forward, her behavior towards him took on a similar air, suspiciously affectionate and sympathetic even in the presence of the other clowns. She didn't seem bothered by any torment inflicted upon him, however, and, in fact, outwardly enjoyed it all the same, making it further difficult to decipher her intentions and the level of truth behind her previous offer. Jackson himself simply kept it in the back of his mind, not wanting to bank on it in the face of the extreme discouragement he felt overall—he was almost positive he wouldn't be making it out of this unscathed. If anything, he would be utilized as a prop for a group of sadistic circus performers for the remainder of his worthless existence, knowing little other than Papa Corn's disturbing monologues, Mister Blister's simplistically harsh greetings and Pipette's empty promises. 

 The life of a king.