The Adventures of Simon - 3. Chapter 3 - The Evil Clown

The Evil Clown

This story is a work of fiction, all characters and plot lines are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
The Evil Clownremains the property of BC & Bondwriter. The story or characters may not be reproduced or republished elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the author.

1/ Eavesdropping on the boys

"OK, now you twist your arm a little… Yes, just like that! Do you feel the noose getting a little looser?"

"Yes! Hey, it's fun! I didn't think it could be THAT much fun!"

Friedrich got his wrist out from the rope encircling it. Simon was really pleased with the last two hours he had spent with his new friend. It was the last day the circus was in Goodland, Kansas, and they would leave the next. Late August in the Midwest was still warm and pleasant, and they were next to Simon and Stilo's caravan, the usual practice location.

It was the third morning Friedrich came to visit; the ordeal both boys had been through certainly was cause for them having gotten along together. And Friedrich, despite being slightly older than Simon, looked up to him because he was a circus artist and he had escaped from his mean brother Wilhelm. And he was eager to learn a few escapology tricks; it could prove helpful if he got in the claws of some gangster some day.

"Wow, Simon, you're lucky to do this everyday!"

"Being a circus artist has its downsides also. The practice and training part is fun, that's for sure, but there's also a lot of jobs to do that are not as fun. Like cleaning up, or carrying buckets of water and stuff… Plus being with just grown-ups all the time is sometimes weird!"

"They seem nice. Princess Deridjah likes you!" Friedrich joked. Simon pretended not to hear. He liked "Deridjah," whom he called Liz, but she had this annoying manner to treat him like a little boy, which bugged him sometimes.

"It certainly is more entertaining living in this circus than back at the farm, but I'm glad you've come these last few days. It's nice practicing with someone your age. To Stilo, it's always like a job. With you, it's more like a game…"

"Yes, it is. Every time Wilhelm tied up either Joseph or me, it was always to be mean. And he didn't need to tie us up to be mean. He always found out new manners to make us miserable. And it got worse since he started reading these books."

"Things on how to be mean? Such books exist?" Simon asked half-jokingly.

"No, political things. My dad was mad about that; he said Wilhelm was a disgrace to our family and to all of the German people. Uh, Simon, before I have to go, could you tie me up as you were in the shed after I found you before I have to go?"

"Sure! But it's really tight, you know…"

"Just to see how it felt, if you don't mind, then you untie me…"

They kept on talking as Simon set to work, grabbing the ropes and getting Friedrich into a nice tight bundle….

On the other side of the caravan, sitting in the grass mending his stage costume was Brett, also known as Zekko the Clown. His name was actually neither Brett nor Zekko. It name was André le Goff. He was French, and he had been born in Brittany, or Bretagne in French, hence his alias. He had moved to America fourteen years before just after the end of the Great War.

He had been suspected of various unsavory activities during this troubled period, from embezzlement to fraud, and had boarded a liner in Le Havre the day before the police came to arrest him. Once he had landed in New York, he had decided to start again with a clean slate. He had had various occupations, as a warehouseman or as a meat packer before he decided to go into entertainment.

He had met Dave, his partner Pippo in a bar in Saint Louis. Dave's wife had just left him and they had become buddies on the very first evening. They shared the same dreams of fame and glory, and they thought of moving to Hollywood to become actors. But their dreams had taken them only as far as Chicago, where they joined a club at first. They had a comedy routine which worked rather fine in the club where they performed.

However, Dave had a gambling problem and after a year of relative success they had to flee from a local bookie who was acquainted with the mob. They had joined the circus in Wisconsin, and they had toured the Midwest for quite a number of years now, but things had not improved much ever since. André had grown bitter; he still got along OK with Dave but things were different.

Not to mention the other artists. He secretly blamed them for not having become rich and famous. But the truth was that deep down in his heart, he was bad. He had always lied, cheated and stolen. Yes, since he lived in America, he was showing a better face and had somehow acted better, but still…

As he listened to the two kids chirping a few feet away from him, his presence unknown from them, he could not help but having mean thoughts. The little ginger making friend with a jerry! How ridiculous! And all this escapology stuff! How stupid! Plus he'd get stuck someday with the loony loser Stilo!

André, as all the people from the circus, was well aware of this first incident when Simon had been left hanging by the wrists for a whole afternoon. Now there was always someone to monitor the escape artistry to Stilo's request. That's when André got more interested in the kids' tweets…

"One more piece of rope and you'll be a neat parcel, Friedrich! Are you sure it's OK?"

"Yes, I'm fine… So is there something special that makes Stilo go berserk before he ties you up so you can't escape?"

"I don't know… It kind of comes out of the blue."

"There was nothing special that you remember of these two times he did it?"

"Uh… Let me see. The rope is not too tight here?"

"No, it's OK. This is tight; I don't think I'll get out of this one… Did you say something special before it happened? Did you hear something particular?"

"Well, not really. But… but…. Wait! Yes I remember smelling something particular both times! Cigar smoke! The guys were smoking cigars we got as payment the first time and your brother was smoking a cigar as he watched us perform!"

"He did? He must have stolen them from Dad… Uh… Are you also going to gag me, so it's just like you in the tool shed?"

"Yeah, let me find something… Cigar smoke! This could be the thing! This scarf should do, here we go…"

While Simon and Friedrich were playing their little game, André was pondering what he had just heard. So Stilo lost it because of cigar smoke… It was an information that could prove handy should there be a need for playing a nasty trick on him and this brat Simon.

Would André have fulfilled his dreams of fame and glory, he would have certainly talked with juggler, vaudeville artist, and actor W.C. Fields about how animals and children get all the audience's attention and how it should be avoided to work with them. For this red-haired kid was good; in less than three months he had become an asset in the show. André walked away with his mended jacket, chewing his bitter thoughts over…

Simon had the bunnies hop over the balled up Friedrich for a few minutes, getting muffled giggles from his new friend through the scarf lightly tied over his mouth, and then he untied him.

"I'm glad this did not last too long! It was great, Simon! It's time to go home if I don't want to be late for lunch."

"Goodbye, Friedrich. I sure was glad meeting you. Here is for you."

Simon handed him a short piece of rope tied in a reef knot.

"This is so you remember me. The two ends of the rope are like our friendship."

"Thanks a lot. This means a lot to me."

And they parted, each of them having a different life to go on with.

Two weeks later, the circus was in Aurora, Colorado. It was still warm enough to practice outside, and Simon and Stilo were starting their session with magic tricks, with the bunnies and the doves leaping and flying around them. Brett/ André was the one monitoring their rehearsal, and he was casually sitting on the steps to Stilo's caravan.

Simon was particularly cheerful since he had had more and more excellent response from the audience wherever they performed. And today was a big day: there was a circus manager coming to see the performance. Maybe this would mean the end of money problems for all of them.

All of them? André didn't know for sure. Maybe he would get kicked out because of the increasing success of Simon and Stilo. But he had a plan to make sure this would not happen…

2. André goes into action

Simon and Stilo had done the handcuffs exercises, now they went into the chains ones. Powderpuff, Simon's favorite bunny was leaping around them joyfully. He stopped for a second, looking down curiously at a small hole in the grass.

Had he been a beetle, he could have gotten down inside the hole, fallen a foot and then he would have crawled for another thirty feet in a 1-inch wide lead pipe, or ten meters in a 2-centimeter tube in André's metric system, whose mouth he would have entered if he'd been able to climb up the pipe and then a hose pipe that André was putting against his lips. But Powderpuff was no beetle, and he kept hopping around the magician and his assistant.

André's nefarious plan had been carefully thought out. Burying the pipe underground had been quite a feat. There was no sign that the grass had been freshly dug, and the hole the rabbit had seen was so discreet it was impossible to notice without having your nose right on it. André knew it was the time. If he didn't want to be fired, he had to find a way to get this kid Simon, ce satané garnement, as he said in his weird language, out of the race.

He had the upper hand on Stilo and Simon, having the precious information about Stilo's fits of madness. It hadn't been too difficult either to be the one monitoring the practice session. They took turns but getting a change in the weekly schedule was no big deal. So here he was, inhaling the smoke that he expected would bring him the solution to his problem.

He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with what would eventually bring his demise years later (but this is yet another story). He then let out a big puff through the pipe. He repeated this operation several times. On the other end, through the hole, the smoke started to spread in the air.

It was a windless day, and coils of smoke whirled around, as Simon was now chained with his hands in front of him, held tightly against his chest. Classic Houdini trick… When he eventually detected the cursed smell, it was too late.

Stilo had started adding padlocks in various places, and his eyes had taken the mad look his fits caused. Simon knew he shouldn't panic. Brett was around, so he just had to wait for Stilo to be done restraining him and leave. It took about two minutes to a grumbling, shaky Stilo to be done with his task.

Then Simon had chains keeping his limbs immobile and Stilo dashed off; Simon hoped he would be back soon. He was getting concerned about Stilo's welfare.

"Hey Brett! Could you come over for a minute?"

As the bunny looked up to Simon with a puzzled look, the young escape artist reassured him.

"That's OK Powderpuff, it's gonna be fine…"

"Alors, Simon, what's ze problem?"

André had come from behind the caravan. He was dressed in his performing costume.

"Stilo has had one of his fits, could you help me out? We've got to find him quick, because the performance is in a few hours only…"

André came closer, and the thick clown makeup hid his snarl.

"Where are ze keys for ze padlocks, Simon? Did Stilo leave wizzem?"

"I'm not sure. He might have. There are duplicate keys in the caravan."

"Bien, bien… Let's go get zem. You'll show me."

Simon was a bit puzzled as to why André was picking him up and taking him towards the caravan. It would have been easier to fetch the keys.

Once they were in the caravan. André softly put him down on his feet.

"D'abord, let's first make sure you remain quiet…"

"What's going on Brett, wait, I don't wanna mmmph!"

The usual silk ball kept in place by his red gag quickly put an end to any attempt he'd have done at yelling.

"You see, mon jeune ami, I have ways to fight ze competition. I need to make a good impression zis afternoon, and I'm better off wiz you out of ze way…"

André laughed in such a manner that Simon wondered who was the most insane: Stilo or the clown? He groaned angrily, as the chains fell one by one, only to be replaced by ropes. André's sailing background came in handy, as he knew good knots that were almost more restraining than the chains. And his talking as he tied him up was getting really frightening.

"You're gonna stay in here, peaceful and quiet… Your friend Stilo is gone, so no show for you… Le spectacle est terminé! It's all over for you career! And tomorrow, we will be ze stars of ze circus! Ha! Ha!"

The knots were good, but the amount of rope was not overwhelming. But then André picked Simon up again and put him inside a props trunk that was open.

"Zis will be your prison for ze day! I'll come tonight to free you, when ze contract is signed and you've been fired!"

Another burst of evil laughter resounded in the caravan. Obviously insanity was running around these days, as Simon could not see how the circus could actually get a contract with Stilo and him not showing up. A circus without a magician would never attract anyone…

"Watch your head! I'm closing!"

Simon quickly ducked, as the lid was slammed shut and he heard the padlocks being used to lock him inside.

In the dark and cramped space, Simon started feeling the ropes. He had to get out of his bonds, and then out of this trunk, so the circus could hope to go on with the show…

3/ I'll get by with a little help from my friend

After a brief assessment of the situation, Simon calmly got to work. He was in the dark, which he didn't like very much, but by now he knew how not to panic. The ropes were tight and the knots were good, but there was a major flaw in André's job: the ropes had not been linked to each other, so a little squirming quickly got the rope wrapped around his chest to slide over his shoulders.

There was a little space now for Simon to calmly struggle against the ropes. Little by little he got the wrist cuffs off, and from there he soon was free of any bond, and he eventually removed the ball gag and the silk packed inside his mouth.

He was not saved yet, as the box was not a tricked one. He started pounding and calling for help, knowing there was little e chance he would be heard. But after a few minutes, he heard steps coming inside the caravan. The fact he didn't hear any voice calling out got him worried.

He had reasons to be, for as he got blinded by the light as the lid was opened, he quickly could figure out who was opening the trunk lid. And it was not a reassuring sight.

"Ze little brat is better at his trade zan I had thought! Sale gosse! I'm going to have to be better with ze knots myself…"

Simon tried to scream, but his yelling was smothered by a big, garlic-smelling hand.

Only a few yards away, but totally unaware of the dreadful treatment Simon was once again undergoing, Liz and Dave were discussing the important matinee performance they were supposed to have.

"Say, Dave, did you see Stilo dash out from the camp? Maybe we should go see where he went. He might've had another fit, you know…"

"Yup. We'd better hurry. We need to find him quickly before he has to perform. Should we go check on Simon?"

"Nah… He's with Brett, so he's OK. But we've gotta find Stilo. You're right, if he and Simon don't perform, it'd jeopardize the circus' chances to get better funding. And we'd sure be better off with more money… Let's go now, there's no time to waste…"

Back inside the caravan, despite his heavy struggling, Simon had been overpowered by the burly man, who had used a large amount of ropes to make sure the young escape artist would stay put this time. Not only coils of rope wrapped Simon's limbs at numerous places, above and below the joints, but he was now kept completely helpless.

André, aka Brett had first removed a mattress from one of the beds, underneath which he had slid the hogtied Simon, but he had the used more rope to link the trussed-up boy to the bed base's slats, preventing any motion. His ankles, wrists, elbows, and neck were attached to the wooden slats. Simon could not roll around or squirm in the least.

No less than seven silk scarves had been used to make sure Simon would not call for help. Two were inside his mouth, one was cleave gagging him and keeping the soggy ball trapped behind his lips, one covered the whole thing, one was knotted over his nicely groomed ginger hair tightly so it pulled his jaws together, and two more were used to cover his lower face and his eyes.

"Ze little Houdini is stuck zis time, n'est-ce pas? I'll come check on you Simon, don't worry…"

And he put the mattress back onto the bed, so Simon would be hidden from view.

Liz and Dave had soon spotted Stilo some 1,000 feet ahead of them, but he did not hear them calling his name. Was it because of the distance or because of his state of mind? They could not say. They sped up, but the ground was not flat, and he got out of sight. They reached a crossroad, and they had to decide if he had gone left or right. Dave looked closely at the ground, trying to find footprints to get on the right track.

Simon was desperate. No knots within reach, all the rope wrapping him up was getting painful and would not loosen in any way. Then he felt something soft and warm against his left thigh. It moved around, tickling him.

Fur and whiskers. If it was who he thought it was, he had a chance. He grunted into his tight gag. Would it work? Was the reassuring presence this of the animal he had carefully tamed over the last three months? Would all these hours of careful work eventually pay off?

Dave was good at identifying prints on the ground. His background as a country kid trailing animals as he had to hunt got to be useful this time; they chose to take the path on the right, and it paid off. After ten minutes walking, they saw a human shape lying down in the ditch.

It was Stilo indeed. He had passed out. Liz came down by his side, and talking gently at first, then louder, and finally resorting slapping him rather roughly, she revived the magician.

Simon now knew it was Powderpuff who had come to his sides. He had trained this smart and friendly bunny to react to finger snaps. And it proved handy. Obviously the phrase "clever as a rabbit" did not exist, but it could have been invented for Powderpuff, who understood that his young master being trussed up was not an ordinary situation. Plus he was trained to gnaw at ropes when fingers were snapped three times.

Simon had thought that it would be a good number to have him saved by bunnies, so he had gone into hours of work with this particular rabbit who seemed the fittest to learn tricks. He had also trained a dove to fetch keys for locks and handcuffs, but it would not prove too helpful this time…

Stilo opened his eyes.

"Where… where am I?"

"I knew you'd say that!" Liz replied cheerfully, glad to see he regained his senses so fast.

"You're two miles away from the circus… We've got to go back quickly so we're ready for performing with this circus manager coming to visit. Can you walk?"

"Yes, I'm a little dizzy, but… Simon… I've left him all chained up… I hope he's OK…"

"Not to worry, Brett will have taken care of him… Let's go now"

Alas! Brett/ André had taken care of Simon all right, but not in the benevolent manner he was supposed to. But he should also have taken care of the smart furry rodent, who went straight to the wrist ropes, and kept on eating into the rope binding his young master and friend. His sharp little teeth worked wonders to cut the hemp rope severely restraining Simon.

So much that when André came back half an hour after having left, he found Simon standing and stretching, spitting out the two scarves out from his mouth, with Powderpuff proudly standing also on his back legs, waiting for the reward he usually got when he performed well: a slice of carrot.

"Sacrebleu! Petit démon!" (Had Simon learned French in school, he would not have been too happy to hear André's cussing and calling him a "little devil"…)

"Tu vas voir! You're gonna see!"

Simon was cornered, with a threatening clown approaching him, chains in hand. He would fight this time, as he grabbed a stool to defend himself from the mad, jealous comedian.

"Cut it out, Brett!" a strong voice ordered.

It was Dave. "What are you doing?"

"Hey, Dave, nothing… I'm just practicing with Simon, as Stilo…"

"Who do you think you're fooling?" Simon cried angrily. "You're just insane and mean!"

Defeated, André sat down on the bed and put his head into his hands.

The next ten minutes were used by Simon, Stilo, Liz and Dave to explain what had been going on.

André had recovered from the power trip and craze that had overwhelmed him. Now a wave of shame overcame him.

"I don't know what went through your head, Brett," Dave said, "but you'll have to work something out. You can't go around hurting kids like this…"

"I… I don't know what to say…" André stood as if he were to apologize and try to make up for his unacceptable behavior. But quick as lightning, and despite his clown shoes, he jumped out from the caravan. This time, it was he who ran away.

This very evening, he had not yet come back.

"We won't see him again…" Dave said sadly as the whole circus crew had gathered around the fire to celebrate their success. They now had a serious manager who would see to getting them better locations and more generous deals.

The show had been one of the finest in weeks. Dave had managed to do a new act all by himself that was actually fresher and more entertaining than the old routines they pulled with Brett.

There were boisterous laughs and jokes all the way around, and Brett's disappearance was almost unnoticed. Like he had been a burden to the whole crew, even though it had gone unnoticed.

"I don't think I wanna see him again anyway…" Simon replied to Dave "He really scared me, I mean, it's not like Stilo going crazy, which I'm kinda getting used to… But it was like Brett was oozing hatred… I don't understand how he got so jealous and mean…"

"People don't always act rationally, Simon." Stilo explained. "And I guess we'll have to be extra careful not to have any cigar smoke around when we perform or we practice…"

"That's for sure…" Simon patted Powderpuff on his head and softly stroked him between his two long ears. "You know what, Powdy? We're not in Kansas anymore…"

The End.