The Baby Man; Chapter 5

3, 4, 5; see how easy that was?

     As he sat in his 'crib' in the shadows just out of the beam of the arcing spotlight, Shorty thought, what's with this crib s**t; they're basically making fun of me!  It was demeaning and degrading and he was sick of this bullshit.  As he was thinking this the beams of a spotlight blinded him.  Showtime!

 

 

     As he started his memorized bullshit spiel, "Welcome everyone, so good of you to come; I'm Shorty---", suddenly he heard an amazed voice out of the crowd,

 

     "I've never seen the like; he looks like a baby but talks like an adult!"

 

     This enraged him, "Good for you, please don't let the fact I'm talking here! stop you!"  Polite social graces be damned!

 

     The guy stared down at him from the seats and returned, "Hey, you little rude freak-a*s, why don't you try picking on someone your own size?  Oh, that's right, anyone your size still s***s their pants!" and he looked around like he was a comic genius.  The audience chuckled.  Short did not however,

 

     "You think you're so witty, don't you?  Well, why don't you..." 

 

     Before Shorty finished ripping the guy a new one, the 'clang, clang, shatter!' of a liquor bottle bouncing down the stairs and then breaking rose to everyone's ears. 

 

     "Opps!  Now you'll have to sober up and return to being the limp-wristed puss you obviously are; alcohol makes you a brave a*****e doesn't it?"

 

     The guy turned beet-red and came charging down the stairs.  As he reached the stage, he hopped up and spit, "F**k you; I don't care if you're infant-sized, I'm going to cave in your he---"

 

     That's as far as he got because he had arrived within punching distance and Shorty had thrown an uppercut into the man's groin.  The man's eyes got huge an he let out an inhuman bellow as he collapsed and grabbed himself with both hands.  Shorty watched him roll around the floor like he was looking for a quarter he had dropped, except his eyes where tightly scrunched shut. 

 

 

     A good ball shot had never failed Shorty; to him, it was the great equalizer.  Sure, in a straight, normal fight where each man obeyed the accepted rules of engagement, he'd get his pint-sized a*s handed to him, but he'd found that guys weren't expecting a sucker-punch to the nether regions.  Besides, it was right there at eye level.  He'd just have to hope he never got into a fist fight with a woman because of their nerveless lower torso; well, not exactly nerveless but close enough, in which case his surprise attack probably wouldn't be effective.     

    

 

    Meanwhile, the crowd sat in shocked silence.  Shorty felt he had to say something.  "What, did you see the size of that b***h?  I was only defending myself.  Let's see what you would do if you were threatened by Der Golem!"  Nothing but silence greeted his comment.  "Oh, come on, haven't you heard of the clay and stone monster who comes to life?  Well, I'll guaranty you one thing, if it walks and talks and is a guy, he's got nuts, and that's where I'm aiming my punches."

 

     He watched as family after family got up and began filing out of Destructo's Circus, with almost all mumbling incredulities and shaking their heads in disgust.  He watched for awhile as they streamed out and then shouted, "Fine, screw ya'll!"  Soon, he could hear every noise echoing of the walls of the now-empty arena.  He saw Egbert Harbinger, the owner of the circus, striding towards him with an angry scowl etched upon his cadaverous features. 

 

     "What in the hell was that?"

 

     "What do you mean 'what'?"

 

     "I mean clearing out an entire arena full of people with your arrogant attitude and negative, condescending comments."

 

     Shorty was immediately angry and defensive, "S**t, if you think those comments were negative and condescending, you're going to love this one, why don't you take a flying f**k, you idiotic overlord son of a b***h?"  As soon as he'd said it he knew he'd made a horrible mistake, but as usual, his out-of-control temper harpooned his a*s.  It was already too late.  The time for thinking that was before he said it.

 

     Harbinger's face ran the gamut of different shades of red, and he sputtered, "You're so fired, peckerwood; clear out immediately!"

 

     "Please Mr. Harbinger, I misspoke."

 

     "Misspoke?  Son, you were talking out of your a*s!  Now, I mean it; you're fired!"

 

     Shorty felt the fresh rage run through him.  He replied, "Fine!" and he stomped back to his dressing room.  He was livid, even though he knew deep down he had only himself to blame.  He picked up a cardboard box and started throwing his stuff into it.  When he'd finished, he shook a cigarette loose from the pack on top, and grabbed the Zippo from his pocket and lit that fire torch up. 

 

 

     Then he angrily grabbed the box and stomped back out to where Harbinger was standing to hold the door open for him.  Shorty thought to himself the smug b*****d isn't being polite, he just wants to make sure I leave! and he felt a yet-another wave of anger course through his veins.  As he was walking out the door he stopped, set the box down, turned towards Harbinger, took one last drag on the cigarette, and said,

 

     "Thanks for everything, a*s wipe!" and flicked the lit cigarette at Harbinger's chest.  Then he picked up the box and strode out, to the sound of Harbinger's whiny voice, shouting words that even he didn't know existed. 

 

 

     ******

 

 

     As he walked towards the bus stop he felt the rage lift, leaving him wondering, what now?

 

 

 

Reviews

[Marie]

What now for Shorty? He doesn't have a lot of options, does he?

[Michael Stevens]

No, but he always manages to land right-side up!