Chapter Fifteen

The night of Igor's debut performance came one week later, and in the intervening time the majestic blue and gold cannon, which had for all these years served merely as a prop, was checked and rechecked, dismantled where capable, studied, and every connection, seal and bolt was put under tremendous scrutiny as this was to be a return to the good old days of performance yesteryear with an admittedly dangerous act that hadn't been seen in decades.

As an additional means of welcoming Igor to the big top, Roger Frankenstein and his son pored over the endless texts of safety measures and protective equipment and came up with a patriotic red, white and blue sequined jumpsuit complete with polyester cape, gloves,  and the appropriate protective headwear.

The Master of Ceremonies, with a new found sense of dedication, took to the airwaves to promote their fresh blood and the performances he'd be undertaking. Roger himself had taken over Dr. Dipsy's role in choreographing the dancing bears, and taught them a few new routines and a new tumbling act as they fought a mock battle over picnic baskets and who would get the edible ambrosia contained within.

And after the promise was made of a brand new show and the ongoing media campaign by its Master of Ceremonies, the circus was beginning to find its audience again, and come Saturday evening the hopeful and the dreamers filed in, along with the parents of the big top's latest act.

Poppa Igor was followed by his wife, with her brick laden purse ever at the ready in case a tap dancing bear should happen to find her son to be a delectable morsel.

"Oh, I hope Igor will be okay."

"Put it down, Momma. Bears not eat Igor."

"They'd better not, or we'll have new grizzly carpeting in den tomorrow."

"Ssh, Momma, circus starting."

The lights went down, the pipe organ began playing a bouncy, cheerful tune, and the center spotlight shined down upon the Master of Ceremonies as he welcomed the crowds and promised them a show they wouldn't soon forget.

First up were the dancing bears, followed by fiery chainsaw juggling, and the standard clown dessert based battles. Victor dedicated a rendition of Perry Como's "Hot Diggity" to the memory of Bertha, which sent Dr. Flappy into paranoid hysterics due to the fact the show was being aired live on the local cable access channels. Bertha herself shed several joyous tears from up in the bleachers, but remained incognito for the sake of the show.

And then, as Flappy's screaming was subsiding due to large quantities of emergency pharmaceuticals, the lights came down again and the music stirred up the crowds with a rhythmic applause that resulted in an eruption of noise as two spotlights shined down - one upon the giant canon, the other on Igor as he strode towards the giant iron beast.

The Master of Ceremonies once again took up his microphone, and unseen in the darkness with only the dramatic rhythm of a drumbeat to fill the nervous hush, he proclaimed the return of show stopping grandeur and how the life of one brave young man hung in the balance.

It was all quite theatrical, but Igor never heard a word of it. His only sensations were one of dampness from the sweat and formaldehyde mixture that he was shedding with great vigor, almost as if such an act would increase his aerodynamic chances of landing safely in the net on the far side of the enclosed tent.

Sometime amongst his worrying, the Master of Ceremonies fell quiet and Igor, with the help of his new friend Victor, loaded himself into giant barrel. Victor offered a quick and enthusiastic "good luck," as the loading chamber was sealed. Victor was then handed a silly, oversized stick of dynamite which was lit that would serve as the means of firing off the hunchbacked cannonball.

And, in the darkness of the cannon chamber, a distant echoing sound reached Igor's ears.

"Ten!"   

Up in the seating, Momma Igor fussed with her purse, searching for something.

"Nine!"

On the opposite end of the cannon, Bertha wiped tears of unrequited love from her eyes.

"Eight!"

In his hospital bed, Flappy rested and his television was unplugged, for his own protection.

"Seven!"

The clowns, gathered about in various sections of the seating area, cheered the crowd on as the countdown continued.

"Six!"

Victor, caught up in the moment, was waving the oversized, cartoon inspired, stick of dynamite complete with lit fuse as theatrically as he could. It pulled even more energy from the gathered crowds.

"Five!"

In the barrel, Igor suddenly considered what he hadn't before -- being a human cannonball was essentially a giant game of catch, which was a byproduct of baseball. Both games, Igor realized, never ended well.

"Four!"

"Find it yet, Momma?" Poppa Igor asked of his wife.

"Three!"

"It must be in car," Momma Igor replied, as she continued rifling through her purse.

"Two!"

"No, wait, here it is..."

"One!"

And Victor spun around in place, and dropped the burning flame upon the fuse of the cannon. The earth shaking shudder of noise and chaos launched Igor up into the highest reaches of the big top, and he remained unseen as smoke filled the arena and everyone was distracted by the fact the net fashioned to catch any and all daredevils was completely devoid of said safe capture.

When the world inside the tent settled down and the confusion seemed to last the rest of the evening, until a scream from beyond the net up in the bleachers shocked the circus and its attendees into reality once again, as Igor had collided at high speed with Bertha and broke apart upon impact. Bertha herself was knocked unconscious and those surrounding her were removing dismembered limbs from their clothes and picking smaller body parts from their popcorn and cotton candy, and ultimately they ran screaming from the stadium.

Victor, still lost in the moment of excitement, was kicked back into reality when he saw the parting crowds and the carnage of body parts covering a third of the immediate area where he collided with the spectators.

"Oh god I killed him!"

Victor, caught in a swarm of escaping audience members, managed to fight his way to the
nearest steps leading to the impact zone, and did an unnatural dance hopping and twisting his way
as to not step on his friend's remains, and briefly forget about the carnage as he checked the
unconscious woman's vitals.

Bertha, completely unrecognizable to the graduate student Victor now was, stirred briefly,
looked up into the face of her one true love, and smiled.

"Ma'am, it's okay. Just hang on, I'm a doctor...almost a doctor, at least."

"Funny clown doctor now? My hero...." and Bertha slipped back into unconsciousness.

As Victor tried to piece together the meaning of this one statement, a second voice turned
Victor's attention to the carnage he'd been trying to avoid.

It was Igor's. His head was a few feet up from Bertha's sleeping form, and looked to be
suffering the exact text book definition of Woozy Squared.

"Victor have sewing kit?"

"Igor? You're alive?"

"Igor alive. Victor have sewing kit?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

"Igor need sewing kit. Put Igor back together."

"What?"

"Igor not dead. See?"

Igor's head motioned as best as it could to the left. An arm was slowly dragging itself
along the bleachers towards Igor's head, stopped for a moment, and waved to Victor.

"Igor just need quick patch up and Igor be fine."

There was a scurrying behind Victor that was barely recognizable. It sounded like some
mad woman crying about her son.

"My baby! He hurt my baby!" was the last thing, besides the darkening pain, Victor was
able to recollect that particular evening.