Lars Circus of Love

It had been twelve years, eight months and two days since I had been a part of Leery & Lamboni’s Flying Circus. According to the elderly acrobatic duo, I joined the circus before I was even potty trained. The elephant man discovered me, playing in the dirt, near the cotton candy machine–I had already pulled up all the grass and was now throwing handfuls of dirt high up into the air, the way one might launch festive confetti.

In the beginning, I was too young for it to be determined with any certainty what my talents might someday be. Surely, at the time–although none of the members will admit it or point fingers today, there were some who would intuit that I didn’t have any talents at all. Even among the hated, there be haters.

Someone–I won’t say who, told me it was Marius… but more on that later.

Sometime after I’d lost count of the summers and falls, life for me in the circus began to change. I had started training with the elephants. Though it wasn’t my task, I  began to memorize the elephant and handler routine. I watched them closely. And they did as they were bidden by the handler, though in every moment, I was certain that the elephants were closely watching me.

Marius, in late July, after a particularly nasty exchange with the contortionist–one of a set of identical twins, who was also his wife–was launched high into the air by the female elephant. He landed in the uppermost branches of a nearby pine tree. It was so tall that one could scarcely see the top branches. Not desiring to uphold the law with regard to the penalty that may be enforced upon the beloved elephant and unwilling to pay any fines or attend any court hearings that may arise from proper notification to local authorities, the entire circus voted to leave him right there. We all fled. Immediately.

Juniper was offered her own show, in addition to the duo performance she shared with her twin. She was also permitted to requisition the largest and most decadent circus wagon.

Eleven years later, as I had yet to give evidence of any acrobatic skill or sensational talent, I was made apprentice to the ring master. When Alvin Lamboni died- another mishap with the elephants, it was unanimously agreed that I would take over as ring master. It was a no brainer–Leery had long since died and Mrs. Lamboni was in no emotional state to do anything outside of her absinth cocktails and percoset refills, which suited me fine since her interest in the business of the circus was negligible and I had other ideas.

Within the fall season following Lamboni’s death, I’d commissioned the most luxurious circus wagon the world had ever seen, made the twin contortionists my consiglieri and transformed Leery & Lamboni’s Flying Circus into Lars’ Circus of Love. It’s grossed three billion dollars to date. It’s a traveling whorehouse.