This Circus is Sure Gonna Be On Fire!
Part Four — Send in the Clowns.
Zara looked at Russell a couple of moments more, shook her head, turned on her soot-caked, booted heel, and left the meeting. The Clown and Gerald departed together very shortly after, but even so … Neither could get a beat on where Zara had gone. They went off in opposite directions, in search of her.
After all, they needed Zara.
Zara always knew what to do.
Because Zara? She could look at a frayed trapeze rope and know exactly how long it had before the aerialist became a cautionary tale. She could hear barely three sentences from a disgruntled juggler and understand which knives were missing, which knives were dull, which knives had been promised to another act, and which knives were currently in the hands of a clown who did not “believe” in gravity. She could even immediately suss out when The Clown Caucus were in need of a shoeshine for their big, big clown shoes.
Zara simply understood how things worked. This was her gift. These skills also proved rarer than one might hope, as did their natural counterpart — The deep, certain-enough-to-prove-correct-most-of-the-time, understanding of when things were not working, at all.
Having the particular — albeit complicated — genius of both, whenever the circus lurched toward catastrophe, Zara stepped in. When the lions had not been fed because everyone thought someone else had spoken with the lion feeder, Zara found their supper. When the ticket booth was double-booked with a puppet show and a knife-throwing demonstration, Zara rerouted one act while simultaneously making a schedule to prevent the error from happening again. When the costume wagon lost a wheel, Zara unearthed the wheel, the wrench, the person who had borrowed the wrench, and the invoice from the last time the wheel had been declared fixed.
Not surprisingly then, when The Ringmaster finally noted the need, a few years prior, to begin to address the feasibility of addressing the need for appropriate structures to perhaps address the need for smoke mitigation …These skillsets seemed to make Zara the clear and obvious choice for Fire Marshal. After all, Zara had proven herself so quick, so insightful, so strategic, time and again.
That was so useful!
And being useful?
Being useful can be dangerous.
The Clown found Zara first, having a conversation with Rufus, the venerated Circus Lion. She grabbed a crate, then a second and third, pulling them all closer as Gerald, having finally found the crew, walked slowly toward them.
“Here’s what I think.”
Rufus looked surprised, as he always was when The Clown spoke, given its relative infrequency.
“I think we just finally torch the place, once and for all.”
Gerald sat down heavily on one of the overturned crates. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Afraid? Gerald … Life is just too short for that. We have been doing our best to deal with this fire for years, now. YEARS. And what good has come of it? I’m done, and I’m not the only one, either. I’ve spoken — at length — with the TCC.”
Rufus’ eyes narrowed.
“What in the world have you and THOSE wild-eyed loons been talking about?!”
Gerald sighed deeply and rubbed his temples.
“I just knew it.”
“How did you know?”
“Oh … c’mon.
You disappear every Thursday.”
For those not in the circus-know, the TCC was, of course, The Clown Caucus. Every circus has one, or at the very least, every circus worth attending. The Clown reached into one of her oversized pockets and withdrew a folded piece of paper. Not a binder. Nary a report in sight. Not even a strategic framework. Just a piece of paper that appeared to have once been a circus flyer. The Clown unfolded it carefully, delicately even, before spreading it across the other, overturned crate.
Zara stared.
Rufus stared.
Gerald stared.
Then Zara spoke.
“That’s … That’s the whole … plan?”
“It’s a draft.”
“It’s a drawing.”
“Drawing is a form of drafting.”
“Not in this case.”
The Clown pointed.
“This is the circus.”
Zara sighed.
“It’s a circle.”
“The circus is also a circle.”
The Clown pointed again.
“This is the clown car.”
Then The Clown quickly tapped each crayon star. There were seven, one of which appeared to be wearing some sort of … Hat?
“These are the clowns.”
Gerald pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why does one of them have a hat?”
“That’s Steve.”
“Who’s Steve?”
“One of the clowns.”
“Why is Steve on the map with a top hat?”
“Steve insisted.”
Zara closed her eyes.
The Clown continued.
“Anyway, the point is that the TCC has spent considerable time discussing solutions.”
“Arson,” Gerald corrected.
“Alternative solutions.”
“Arson.”
“The identified best, alternative solution. Arson.”
“Look,” continued The Clown. “The important thing is that we’re finally asking the right question.”
“And what’s that?” Zara asked.
The Clown leaned forward. For the first time since joining them, she wasn’t smiling. “Why are we still trying to save this circus?”
Zara glanced at the piece of paper, again.
“OK. O …. Kay. How much gasoline have we got squirreled away so far?”
