The Adventures of Simon - 1. Chapter 1 - Encounter of a Loony Kind

The Adventures of Simon

Encounter of a Loony Kind

Story by BC and Bondwriter

Text by Bondwriter

This story is a work of fiction, all characters and plot lines are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Encounter of a Loony Kind remains the property of the author. The story or characters may not be reproduced or republished elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the author.
WARNING: This story doesn't have any sexual content or even a hint at romance. It's meant to revive old comics boy-heroes who face peril all the time.

Simon O'Malley had been walking for three days now, and he was starting to feel very weary. It was close to sunset, on this day of June, 1932. He must have walked at least fifty miles since he had left his parents' home, a very small farm in Kansas. They were no longer able to support him, he had eventually understood, so he had decided it was high time he would hit the road and try his luck somewhere else. After all, he had turned twelve five months previous, so he was old enough to take care of himself.

His parents had not chased him, but he knew they would be better off without him. He had not cried as they had parted, but his mother had when he had told her he would come back a rich man, and that he would see to it that they would never lack anything anymore. He was heading west; he thought about going to California, which he had read about in the numerous dime novels his father had collected when he was a kid himself. For the last three years, buying books had been out of the question, but he had learned all these stories by heart.

He had been very hot that afternoon, and he had drunk the last drop out of his leather flask one hour ago. Thanks to the straw hat covering his red hair and fair skin, he was not completely burned. Still, he was very thirsty, but he had not passed a single house or farm to get some water. The little food he had was long gone, and he was feeling hungry as well. Then, as he turned around a small hill, he saw a camp in the distance.

Six or seven wagons, from what he could see. As he came nearer, he made out it was seven, and there was some big top behind: this had to be a circus, like the one his father had taken him to for his seventh birthday. He stepped into the circle formed by the horse-drawn wagons; there was a camp fire in the middle, with about ten people gathered around, sitting on logs.

They all turned to him; he smiled: "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Simon O'Malley, and I would like to know if you have some water and maybe a crumb of bread to spare."
"Good evening, Simon O'Malley!" a woman said. She had long black hair and a long colored dress. "About the water, there is no problem, but for the crumb of bread, well…"
The other people laughed.
"We're not making fun of you, boy," an older woman said, "but what Irma means, is that we don't have much to give you. Here, food is earned; and earned the hard way."
"I could work, you know. Back at the farm, I worked!" Simon said in a serious, determined tone.

"I guess I could do with an assistant." The man who had spoken was some rather old guy, with graying hair at the temples. He was dressed in loose overalls and a whitish shirt.
"What do you need an assistant for, Sir?" Simon asked modestly.
"I'm a magician, and I need someone to hand me props, to get in the box to be sawed in half and to help out in escape acts…"

They all clapped their hands and cheered, and Simon got introduced to all of them: Irma the contortionist, Dave and Brett, the clowns whose stage names were Pippo and Zekko, Maria the rope dancer, Igor, Boris and Marishka the acrobats, and Billy and Liz, who were also known as Sabu the Bengali Knife Thrower and Princess Deridjah. Simon was quite pleased to have been able to find a position so fast, and in show business on top of that!

So Simon's life as a circus artist began on that day. He quickly found out it really was hard work. There was not only the artistic part, that was long hours of practice every day, but also all the day-to-day running of the circus: fetching water and wood for the fire, cooking, pitching the big top, taking care of the horses, the bunnies and the doves, cleaning… But it was all done in good fun, and he soon felt also part of "the family". It was very different from the farm, but he felt really good with everybody.

It was also fun living in a wagon, and moving out every week or two. He was quick and skillful, and soon he was able to perform basic card tricks, and to have small objects disappear. He was not one hundred percent successful, though, and for public performances, he had to limit himself to handing out the props to Stilo. But as the two of them got along quite well, the act got better and better, Simon drawing a lot of attention and doing most of the talk so it was easier for the Great Magician to fool the audience. Simon had also developed a taste for thus being in the limelight, and he was quite a nice sidekick to Stilo the Great.

Stilo was getting a bit too old for escape art. He was drawing close to fifty, and he could no longer do any of the most impressive stunts; but as Simon was very interested in the late Harry Houdini, his magician friend had started teaching him the basics of escape art. "Your mind is the key that will get you out of any restraints," Stilo had told him quoting his role model. And he added: "That, a little flexibility, and some skill…" But Simon had real talent; after a few weeks, he had acquired the ability to get out of handcuffs, or to get free with hands tied behind him with ropes. That's how it became part of the act at its end. There were some good reactions from the audience, but Simon felt it was a bit half-hearted.

Stilo's traditional magician costume made him look smart, all dressed in black, and with his cape lined in red, and he took particular care in waxing his moustache and coloring his hair in black for the shows. But Simon's Oriental costume, even though it worked wonders for the magic tricks, did not look that good for the escape art.

The next day, as they were about to start practicing, after having put away the bunnies and the doves, Simon went inside the wagon to put his performance costume on. He had had a blue satiny costume made for him, consisting in a blue shirt, and matching pants. A cape in a slightly darker shade of blue and a top hat completed his magician assistant's attire. But as he got out from the wagon, he was wearing way less! He was just clad in tight blue briefs, obviously cut in the same material as his shirt was, and nothing else… "What does this mean, Simon?" Stilo asked, puzzled by the boy's outfit.
"I've seen female magician assistants in your magazine. They're always scantily clad. And Houdini often was wearing just briefs. It shows the audience we do not conceal anything to cut out the ropes or a key to unlock the cuffs."

Simon's ideas were good ones. It seemed they got much more response from the audience, which was much more impressed than before when Simon got out of his handcuffs. He ended his act by removing the ball and thanked everybody loudly as he and Stilo bowed to the crowd. But one day, as they were rehearsing, something turned out completely different…

There had been a rather copious lunch on that day, as the circus had performed the previous week in a rural town in which the city council had paid them in kind for the show they had performed for the city schools. It meant they even had a little meat on top of the usual boiled potatoes.

As they had cooked the meal, Dave had found two small boxes at the bottom of the big bags they had been given. One was candy, and the other was cigars, so there were treats for everyone. But as soon as they had been done eating, Simon had insisted on practicing right away. He was an eager student! And he and Stilo had left the others enjoying a quiet after-meal time, as they had gone behind their wagon for their dress rehearsal. They first started rehearsing the handcuffs escape trick, and Stilo had just put them around Simon's wrists, behind his back, when it happened.

Stilo began breathing heavily, he rolled his eyes and started looking funny at Simon. The escape artist got concerned, for it was quite unusual, and he hoped Stilo was not having a heart attack or something: "Urrgh gnya oh ay?", he asked. He meant "Are you OK?", but of course, with the red ball in his mouth, his words did not come out very clearly.

Stilo came closer and spoke in a very unusual voice, which really frightened Simon: "You're not allowed to insult me, boy, I'm gonna have to punish you for what you just said." With that, he rushed into the wagon. Something was wrong, and Simon had to use his skills to get himself free and sort things out. He regretted to have lashed a piece of rope around his ankles; otherwise he could have run to the other people for protection.

Still, he felt his wrists were slowly getting out of the handcuffs. Too late, though, Stilo had jumped back out. He was holding chains in his hands. Simon had managed to get his right wrist out of the cuff but it was immediately seized by Stilo, who snapped a manacle linked to the chain on it. The other end was quickly attached to a steel ring on the wagon, so Simon's arm was pulled up behind his head.

Stilo did the same to his left hand, and Simon now stood in an unusual position, on tiptoe, his arms pulled up in a Y. Stilo leered at him: "Much less obnoxious that way, hey?" Simon mumbled pleas to stop the silly game, as Stilo was now adding shackles to his knees and ankles. "You still have the nerve to insult me! Wait!"

Stilo stood up and grabbed the silk pocket handkerchief puffing out of his breast pocket. He packed it in a wad. The leather strap and was unfastened behind Simon's neck, then the ball removed, but, alas, only very temporarily. The silk wad was crammed into his mouth, and the ball replaced to prevent him from spitting it out. This time, he was truly gagged!

He could not even mumble some half understandable words, and, even worse, no one would hear him shouting for help. They usually practiced without seeing anybody for the whole afternoon, so how long was Simon going to hang in chains? He twisted, and felt for a way to get out from his restraints, but it was not something they had studied yet. Stilo contemplated him squirming, snarling quietly for a couple minutes, and then he disappeared into the wagon.

Simon did not stop trying, and his mind was working really fast, trying to figure out if it was a game, a new lesson, a trial, or yet something else. He heard a few voices coming close at some point, but his faint grunts were so well smothered by the vicious gag that he was not heard. The sun was moving in the sky, darting his ray on the boy's skin, and shadows were getting longer as the hours were going by. He was just starting to feel really desperate, when Stilo got out of the wagon.

Simon heard him yawn, as he had just gotten out of a nap, and he jumped on the ground. Simon grunted a little, which caught the man's attention: "Simon! What are you doing here? What happened?"
Stilo dashed to release the boy from his restraints. He first removed his gag, but Simon could barely speak anyway. Once his wrists were released, Simon limply felt on the ground. He was exhausted. Stilo fetched water, which revived Simon a little. After a few minutes, he had recovered, and they talked about what had happened.

Stilo had no memory of what had happened after they had gotten dressed to rehearse. He had blacked out, only to wake up in the wagon. He was genuinely concerned, especially when Simon told him how he had behaved. He was also very impressed that Simon was not mad at him after such a nasty thing. But Simon said that had he been a better escape artist, he would have gotten out in no time. Still, they decided to practice with people from the circus around next time.

(to be continued in Birthday Party Gone Awry)