Tagged: contortionist

Animosity Between Lyudmila and Svetlana

  • by jenstill held some liquid
  • watching her all the time
  • not good enough to own such a fancy car
  • hot, reeking scent of their blood
  • Like a real gentleman.

Tune in next time part 389      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Animosity between Lyudmila and Svetlana boiled over from time to time, but however much froth and steam they created, the vessel of their joint hatred still held some liquid, and there was always the danger that it would erupt again. That animosity traced back to their circus days. Due to their extreme flexibility, the ringmaster treated them as a single unit. It was difficult for the sisters to always be in such close quarters: entwined together inside a single suitcase: limbs intertwined as they were made to share a single cot, a single shower cubicle, a single berth on the train. Each felt that her sister was watching her all the time, watching and judging. It all came to a head when Svetlana was awarded Employee of the Month, an honor that included a medal ceremony and the keys to a new Lada. Lyudmila was incensed. She felt that Svetlana on her own was not good enough to own such a fancy car, that the two of them were a package deal, and the only reason Svetlana won was because she’d lately been sleeping with both the ringmaster and the lion tamer. Lyudmila confronted Svetlana about her perceived duplicity, and the sisters began to fight. Being contortionists, their fight choreography was like nothing anyone had ever seen before, and they quickly drew a crowd. Before long they each had black eyes and nosebleeds. The hot, reeking scent of their blood enraged the performing animals. The lion tamer and his wife, the tiger tamer barely kept their cats under control long enough for the ringmaster to disperse the audience. In his fury, the ringmaster fired both sisters, and threw them out with only the costumes on their backs, and no severance pay. Like a real gentleman.

But if the sisters had been fired from the circus and never worked together again, then how could my French prisoner have eaten fish with them on the train? Unless he had been lying to me all along.

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The Acrobat/Spy’s Fevered Ramblings

  • by Kentsqueezing in your fingers
  • in order to become bosom friends
  • Aloysius, mouth full of bone needles
  • another mold for squirrels
  • a square black cap with a silver badge on it

Tune in next time part 386      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The acrobat/spy’s fevered ramblings had exhausted my patience.

“This information isn’t helping me, and therefore it isn’t helping you, either. I don’t need or want to hear about how it felt to have their thighs and breasts squeezing in your fingers or how you were willing to debase yourself in order to become bosom friends with bosom benefits. The only thing I want to hear from you is –”

“Excuse me, General?”

I rounded on the source of this interrupting voice. The six babies arranged along my outstretched, fatigued arms giggled happily at the ride. Behind me stood a small entourage of pale men wearing what appeared to be monks’ robes. “Sorry to bother you, General,” the one in the middle went on, “but we have been sternly ordered to perform our duties without delay.”

As he spoke, two of his companions stepped forward and relieved me of three children apiece.

“Where are they taking the royal brood?” I demanded.

“Nowhere. The children will be kept safe right here while Aloysius brings your uniform up to code.”

Aloysius, mouth full of bone needles, waved and scurried forward in a single movement, stooping to begin taking inseam measurements.

Twisting my head to look at the bound prisoner, I yelled, “I am not done with you!”

Contrarian military fashion is especially fickle, obliging the likes of Aloysius to carry around complex arrays of tools and materials. In addition to the needles, and fabrics of course, he also had a case loaded with more specialized instruments. There was a portable furnace and a crucible, and a mold for casting lions, and another mold for squirrels, and an anvil that I didn’t know the purpose of.

The alterations to my bellhop getup took some bit of time, but the results were exemplary if a bit ostentatious for my tastes. I felt like an impeccably tailored colorblind matador, and was sort of glad the room didn’t have a mirror. The best thing of all was that I got a new hat, a square black cap with a silver badge on it that said “General.”

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Jim Stood and Started Handing Me Babies

  • by jenhad gone… less swimmingly.
  • ate normally
  • precisely between her narrow shoulder blades
  • one day melted into the next
  • in the city of Volgograd

Tune in next time part 383      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Jim stood and started handing me babies, though he kept the harnesses, and I only had so many arms. Few things in Contrarian history, besides the Battle of Brouhaha, had gone… less swimmingly. With three babes balanced along each arm like a waiter in a restaurant where no one ate normally, I bent forward at the waist and kissed Fleur precisely between her narrow shoulder blades. That’s the ritual Contrarian farewell between spouses when one is leaving the other in the presence of only in-laws of the opposite gender.

I tottered down the stairs with my six infant children and found the French circus performer still strapped to his chair. He looked at me and my strange burden and said, “I could teach you how to juggle.”

“Tell me where you met your spy-mistress,” I said, ignoring his kind offer.

He loosed a long, wistfully Gallic sigh. “One day melted into the next when the circus was in the city of Volgograd. I was surrounded by aerialists, and bears on bicycles. And then one day, she appeared.” He met my eye, tears streaming down his cheeks. “She and her sister had a contortionist act that is beyond description. So beautiful. So haunting.”

Russian contortionist sisters! They could only be Svetlana and Lyudmila! But which one had sent this man to collect my “special sauce”? Probably not Svetlana, since she’d misunderstood the objective and had only just given birth to my quadruplet sons. Which meant it was probably Lyudmila, whom I hadn’t seen in months. Unless Svetlana was trying to redeem herself?

The two lithe and extremely flexible ladies went round and round in my head. I couldn’t decide which was the more likely agent behind this bizarre Frenchman’s quest.

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Svetlana Used Her Nimble Toes

  • by jencarried the corpse away with them
  • with an energy peculiar to excited females
  • “faddish” and “exaggerated”
  • Russia at its most bizarre
  • could not be locked from the inside

Tune in next time part 72                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Svetlana used her nimble toes to try to prevent me from bringing her along, but fortunately for me Jerry’s car could not be locked from the inside. While she writhed around and tried to hold all the doors closed with her feet, flailing and contorting her limbs like an acrobat from Russia at its most bizarre, I reached in through the open window and grabbed her by the ankle.

Some might call her struggles “faddish” and “exaggerated” but I knew that in her mind she was fighting for her freedom, if not her life, and doing so with an energy peculiar to excited females. I also think she had a crush on Jerry who stood nearby, still beating the ground with his stick.

I hauled Svetlana through the window by her ankle, narrowly avoiding being caught up in a headlock with her other leg. While she dangled from my fist, I said, “You can either walk, or I can carry you. If I carry you it won’t be fun. It’ll be like when John and Lyudmila killed that feral ninja and carried the corpse away with them, and you’ll be the corpse.”

She glared at me.

I gave a hard smile. “You won’t be dead, but you might wish you were.”

 

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The Pathetic Noises

  • by Kentbut you grab it between finger and thumb
  • struck the ground emphatically with his stick
  • asked Jerry for a gun
  • sell you a chainsaw in the desert
  • is biological in nature

Tune in next time part 71                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

The pathetic noises came from a dilapidated station wagon limping along the dirt road, chuffing and squeaking and dragging several of its body panels along the ground. The man at the wheel wore a moldy top hat and sunglasses made of gummi worms.

He rolled down his window as the car crept alongside us. “Name’s Jerry. Can I give you folks a ride?” Svetlana coyly allowed him to see that her wrists were bound with electrical wire. Jerry didn’t seem to mind.

“Sure,” I said. I put Svetlana in the back seat and went around to the front passenger door. Jerry didn’t ask us any more questions. As he drove he told us about his thrilling career as a race car driver, and how he spends his time in retirement inventing edible eyewear. “The design inspiration is biological in nature, i.e., worms. It’s just like normal glasses, but you grab it between finger and thumb and off comes a snack!” He demonstrated. He boasted about the many high-class boutiques that bought his designs, saying, “I’m the kind of guy who could sell you a chainsaw in the desert.” Like that was a thing. At one point Svetlana interrupted and asked Jerry for a gun. I thought I might need to take the pistol out of my pocket, but he ignored her.

Predictably, the station wagon wheezed to a halt and wouldn’t move despite all of Jerry’s swearing, even when he got out and kicked dust on it and threatened it with a stout tree limb that he brandished like a club. Even when he struck the ground emphatically with his stick.

“Thanks for the lift,” I said. “We’ll leave you to it.”

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Heinrich Began to Get Up

  • by Kentkeep hearing your name
  • “It’s an honour!”
  • Jeepers creepers!
  • all that glitters is gold
  • danced on the ceiling

Tune in next time part 65                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Heinrich began to get up off the floor, but in a flash Svetlana leapt on him, wrapping her legs around his neck. His face purpled instantly from the pressure. Meanwhile, Aphrodite still had a mouthful of toxic sea life keeping her from breathing.

I picked up the pistol from where Aphrodite had dropped it. My sense of fair play gave me conflicting impulses, dual ways of balancing the outcomes for these three villains. I could probably save both Heinrich and Aphrodite by subduing Svetlana, or I could wait another few minutes until the pirates expired and then polish off the contortionist.

I knew no one here deserved mercy or salvation, but I knew also that I’d be forever haunted by evil dreams, the kind where you keep hearing your name echoing from charnel vaults, if I took part in their deaths so callously.

Plucking the jellyfish from Aphrodite’s tongue, I aimed the gun at Svetlana’s head and said, “Off.” I had to cock the hammer to make my point, but she released Heinrich and took a step back. “Heinrich,” I said, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the classic jellyfish-sting antidote? She needs it quick, at the site of the injury.” He gulped, massaging his throat, and nodded. “Then she’ll probably need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” I added with a smirk.

“It’s an honour!” he said chokingly, with an unexpectedly British inflection. Sliding up alongside his wife’s head, he began undoing his belt.

“Jeepers creepers!” Svetlana cried. I held the gun on her and made her watch the lifesaving treatment for a few minutes before chivvying her out the warehouse’s enormous front door. I swung it shut again, then ordered Svetlana to shift some nearby oil drums to block it. Meanwhile I located some discarded electrical wiring, which I used to bind her wrists when she was done with her assignment. Her face was ashen, her eyes unfocused. Some things cannot be unseen.

“Steady now,” I said. “Like they say, all that glitters is gold. What you just learned is, not all that’s gold glitters. And some of it smells pretty rank.” She looked on the verge of fainting.

I surveyed our surroundings. All the nearby buildings were indistinguishable from the one we’d just left. Hot sun blazed down on us. I directed Svetlana across the alleyway to the next massive building and pulled its door open.

Guiding her inside, I heard music. The interior mostly lay in darkness, except for a rectangular area at the far end. A bizarre orchard of glowing crystal illuminated that area, with a grand piano suspended upside down far above. I nudged Svetlana with the gun and we slowly moved toward what I realized were inverted chandeliers, mesmerized by the sumptuous shimmering gowns worn by a trio of ladies as they danced on the ceiling that had been created for them.

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