“Um—poodle patrol,” Alan replied.
“You got it. Poodles, giraffes, monkeys, hookers, whatever makes ’em happy.”
“You’ll have to teach me how to do that last one, Cracky,” Alan snickered as he took the bag.
“Oh, Boogy, you don’t know dat one?” Cracky asked. “Dat’s da best one of ’em all. It’s da only one you can charge money for.”
“I’m starting to see why they call you Cracky. You’re a funny guy.”
“I wish!” Cracky blurted out with a chuckle. “They call me Cracky ’cause before dis gig, I worked as a plumber’s assistant.”
Alan laughed as he moved away, allowing Cracky to get back to work.
Why didn’t I tell him? I just took these balloons and laughed at his joke before walking away. What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe Peepers was right. Maybe I do need help. I don’t even have the guts to quit a job I haven’t even started.
“Hey, Boogy,” Cracky yelled with his hand on the doorknob. “Remember, work da crowd near da Labyrinth.” The door closed and Cracky went back to selling tickets.
Alan gave him the thumbs-up and started a slow walk back in the direction of the Labyrinth.
The Labyrinth, of course. It was too late to turn back and tell Cracky he couldn’t work there. That opportunity expired the second he accepted the balloons. Now he had no choice but to return to the Labyrinth, where minutes before, he was face-to-face with Peepers.
He did say “near” the Labyrinth. He didn’t say anything about going inside. Maybe I can do this, he thought to himself as the Labyrinth came into sight. I just won’t go inside again. If they ask me to deliver another package to Geno, I’ll refuse. What will they do, fire me? I was going to quit anyway, so who cares? I’ll stay outside where all the people are. That should be fine. I can do this.
The area outside the Labyrinth was packed with people. The line extended far outside the gates, while others waited for friends and family to exit the building. Nobody looked particularly horrified. Groups of young kids celebrated their shared experiences as they exited the notorious attraction. It was clear that none had witnessed the same haunting as his own. Nobody would come out laughing after a face-to-face with Peepers.
Alan got to work as Boogy the Clown. He pulled a long red balloon from his pocket, gave it a couple of quick stretches, and started blowing into it.
*****
Inside the Labyrinth, four pre-teen girls entered the Rat Room with arms locked, their feet lost in the knee high fog. They were so tightly bonded; their legs didn’t appear to be moving as they glided toward the center of the six-foot-diameter space. The room had two openings, with the entry behind and the exit directly in front of them.
Geno observed from the catwalk structure above, hidden from view in the darkness behind the black mesh fabric ceiling, looking for his opportunity to provide human assistance to a host of automated effects. He started by pulling a lever, which closed the exit door in front of the girls. They screamed simultaneously. As the computer dimmed the lights, Geno pulled another lever, locking the opening behind them. The girls trembled, waiting to see what was in store. Suddenly, they heard the faint screeching of a single rat, then more rats as the sound amplified. Projections of rats began to jump out from the fog.
The girls’ high-pitched screaming was music to Geno’s ears. With the flick of a switch, he bypassed the preset volume control, allowing him to double the decibels. The girls became so frightened by the sounds and images that they faced each other screaming and cupping their ears to block out the terrifying rat screeches.
Geno was elated at his power to elicit panic from the unsuspecting gaggle below. He had them where he wanted. He flicked off the floor lights and the room went completely dark. Then he grabbed a long hand crank mounted to the catwalk and started churning the handle. This turned gears positioned every two feet around the room. The gears rotated spindles, which spanned to the floor of the Labyrinth. Attached to the spindles were long leather strips. The thin strips spun, slapping the legs of the girls and giving them the sensation of rat tails racing around their feet. Their screams and cries intensified. Geno soaked up their fright like a drug addict absorbing a fresh injection of heroin.
Within seconds, the computer turned off the projections and sounds. Geno restored the floor lighting and opened the exit door. The girls’ grip on each other broke as they made a mad dash for the exit. Their frantic shrieks cleared others from their path. Disorientation from the mirrors confused and frightened them to ever increasing depths of horror. Geno followed from above, redirecting them by turning wall panels in their path. He herded them to another part of the Labyrinth. The girls now became the rats, unable to find the exit to his maze.
Ignoring all other guests, he relentlessly tormented the fragile girls. He shouted at them through a bullhorn, telling them they would never escape. Finally, he had them cornered. The girls squeezed together, crying and pleading for their freedom. Geno backed off and turned up the lights. Mirrored panels reflected dozens of weeping girls. The voice from above said, “Do you want out?” Emotionally and physically drained, they nodded submissively as each mumbled, “Yes.”
Geno paused to suck in every satisfying second of his achievement before he opened a panel into another compartment. Through the room was an open door to the outside. Relieved, the girls cautiously walked toward the daylight. As the last one entered the room, they discovered the opening was actually a reflection in a mirror. The doors shut and through his bullhorn, Geno said, “Welcome back to the Rat Room.”
The lights went out and the girls screamed at the top of their lungs one last time before dropping to the floor in surrender. The lights come back on and a door opened to the outside. The girls remained clumped together on the floor, afraid to move. Unable to discern illusion from reality, they didn’t trust their eyes. It took them a full two minutes before they discovered this to be an actual exit. Geno sapped as much nectar of sweet terror as he could from them. He was already on the prowl for his next rush.
*****
Tying off a long green balloon, Boogy asked a four-year-old boy if he liked monkeys. The boy nodded and smiled wide. Alan proceeded to bend and twist the balloon. The boy stared in amazement as the balloon started to take shape. Taking advantage of his trance, his mother slipped the stuffed dinosaur out from under his arm to free up his hands for the green monkey. She handed the dinosaur off to the father for safekeeping.
The father turned, alerted by the sounds of sobbing girls approaching from behind.
“Daddy,” cried one of the girls; her arms reached out for the security of his embrace.
The father reached out to greet her hug. “What’s this about? What happened? Is everything okay?”
The other three girls joined in. Two grabbed onto the mother and the last one wrapped her arms around the daughter and father. None were able to hold their composure long enough to explain what happened.
Alan finished the monkey and handed it to the anxious little boy, who was oblivious to the foursome’s whimpers.
Finally catching a breath, the daughter whimpered, “We want to go ho...home …Daddy. Please let’s go home.” Wailing moans followed her pleading.
“What happened? Was the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors too scary for you?” the father asked.
“Stop, Daddy,” she cried. “You don’t know how scary it was in there. Please take us home.”
“Ha! I told you girls it might be too scary for you. But no, you all insisted. What were the words you used? Oh yeah, you said it’s kid stuff,” he said, reveling in the moment.
“But you don’t understand, Mr. McNair. They tried to keep us there,” one of her friends added.
The father paid no attention their ramblings. He just enjoyed seeing the smug look washed from the four pre-teen girls’ faces. He agreed to take them home, and as they walked away, the four girls remained glued to the arms of the adults.
Alan watched the gr
oup, huddled close as they walked away. What happened to them? Did Peepers have anything to do with it, or were they just acting like typical teenage girls? He looked back at the Labyrinth, where more groups exited, laughing and joking around with each other. All appeared normal.
The remainder of the afternoon was mixed with three basic types of people: those who thoroughly enjoyed their experience in the Labyrinth, those who showed little or no emotion at all, and those who expressed great anxiety. The only odd thing that stood out was the fact that the groups who exited in fear were unified in their terror. There was never one or two who enjoyed their experience.
Alan found this to be very peculiar.
*****
At three-thirty, Alan had to leave his carnival job. It was time to trade his Boogy costume for his pizza delivery hat. Just before he made his way through the parking lot to his car, a curtain of thick clouds had quickly filled the sky. The sky grew dark as the ominous wall approached.
Most of the visitors to the carnival heeded Mother Nature’s warning and flooded into the parking lot with him. Everyone picked up the pace as the first heavy drops fell. By the time he got in his car, there was a full-on downpour. He looked in his rearview mirror and noticed his Boogy makeup melting down his face from the cleansing rain. He made things worse by wiping away the moisture along with samplings of color from all parts of his face.
The rain was heavy but he didn’t have time to wait for a break in the clouds. If he were late again, Joe would surely fire him. More importantly, he didn’t want to let his friend down.
Unfortunately, he didn’t anticipate the effect poor weather would have on the hundreds of visitors at the carnival. Vince’s was only ten minutes away, and he gave himself plenty of time—for a normal day. However, the field was jammed with cars all trying to exit at the same time. Alan’s buffer may not have been enough, but he took advantage of the parking lot delay by using the last of his cold cream to clear the colored makeup from his face.
Chapter 4
Bells jingled over the shop door. Alan knew he was late and tried making his way through without drawing attention to himself. Joe stood beside the oven; his piercing glare stopped Alan in mid-stride. Without saying a word, he glanced at the wall clock, and then returned his aim at Alan. He was eleven minutes late.
Alan knew Joe was left with no other choice. He raised his hands in surrender. Although he had a legitimate excuse, he also knew that he’d be stoking the fire if he tried offering it.
“I know, Joe. I’ll be in your office,” he said as he continued through the shop. In the office, he turned over the empty bucket, sat down, and waited.
Joe entered thirty seconds later. He closed the door and took his seat behind the desk.
“Why are you doing this to me, Alan?” he said. “I thought we were good. I thought you understood.”
“I’m sorry, Joe. You’re absolutely right. I did understand, and I gave myself plenty of
time—”
“Oh no, not again. What did I tell you about excuses, Alan? No more!”
“You’re right, Joe. I totally understand why you have to fire me.”
“Fire you?” Joe shot back. “Who said anything about firing you?”
“Well, I just assumed—”
“I just need to make an example of you, Alan. You’re my best employee. I don’t want to fire you.”
Alan exhaled, and his stiff posture relaxed. He had been sure that Joe would fire him to set an example to the others.
“Alan, relax. The thing is we are the only adults in this place. These kids are the future. They’re good kids, but they need discipline. The way I see it is each of them is a ball of dough. Their parents put all the right ingredients into the dough, but now it’s my job—our job—to form the dough. For most of them, this is their first job. I take that responsibility very seriously. I know they’ll all end up leaving here thinking it was just another stupid childhood job. And that’s okay. I just want to be sure that we help shape them properly so they do well in life.”
“Why don’t you have kids Joe?” Alan asked.
“Long story, but I consider all of them—and you—to be my kids. And you, are about to get a spanking.”
“Seriously?” Alan asked.
“Yes seriously, but not literally. I do need to punish you. It’s because of you that Jamie called in sick. My guess is he’s at that carnival of yours.”
“Jamie called in sick?”
“Yes! And now I’m short-handed and I need to suspend you for a few days. See what you’ve done, Alan?”
Alan didn’t completely follow Joe’s logic, but he was relieved that he wasn’t getting fired. He didn’t think this would be a good time to question Joe’s thought process, so he let it go.
“Do you have to suspend me right away?”
“Well, if I don’t, it will look like I’m going easy on you and I’ll look weak.”
“True, but this is my fault. I don’t want you and everyone else to be upset with me for being short-handed tonight. Why don’t you let me help through the rush, and then send me home?”
“Okay—that might work, but I need to yell at you in front of Nat and Alex. They’ll tell the others and everyone will know I’m serious.”
“Sure, sure, yell at me good. That should work,” Alan said.
“Okay, I’m gonna get up now and, uh, you walk out first, okay?” Joe nervously maneuvered to a position that allowed Alan to exit his office before him. Loosening up, he appeared to be an actor preparing to go on stage, shaking out the cobwebs and freeing his mind from the clutter in order to sell his audience.
“Yeah, no problem.” Alan stood and opened the door. Joe clenched his fists and rocked his head to indicate his readiness.
“Hold on, Joe. Let me see if any customers are in the store.”
“Oh, right. Good thinking.”
Alan peeked around the corner. It was clear so he turned back and gave Joe a nod.
Joe yelled out, “Now get out of my office! I don’t want to see your face until Wednesday.”
“Okay, Joe. I’m really sorry,” Alan said as he looked to be sure their act got the attention of Natalia and Alex. It was clear that they heard all of it.
“I don’t want to hear it! And you know what?” Joe said. “You just put us in a bad situation, Alan. Because of you we’re short-handed. Deliveries are piling up and I don’t have anyone to deliver them. Are you proud of yourself, Alan? Are you happy with the way this has affected the rest of us?”
Ouch! Alan thought to himself. Joe was really good at acting—a little too good.
“This is what you’re going to do,” Joe said. “Deliver those three pizzas before your suspension starts. And since everyone else will be working harder with you gone, I expect you to put your tips in the tip jar.”
Ouch again. “Okay, Joe. I guess I deserve it for being late. I’ll see you Wednesday night.”
“That’s right. Wednesday night. And if you’re running late, don’t bother showing up at all.”
Alan grabbed the stack of pizzas and headed for the door. With his back pushing the door open, he saw Alex and Natalia nervously working as they tried to stay far from the action. Out of their view, Joe stood at the back of the shop smiling at Alan with a two thumbs-up signal to indicate their act was a success. Alan smirked as his body twisted around the closing door.
*****
1116 Fisher Road. One large pepperoni pizza. The old Cape style home was warm with life. Soft lights glowed from every window. A scooter leaned against the perfectly trimmed boxwood beside the porch steps. Add a thatched roof and gently falling snowflakes and one might mistake the house for a living Thomas Kinkade painting.
He pressed the backlit doorbell. That simple action opened the starting gates for a small army of tiny socked feet, led by the family’s fearless guard dog, a fifteen-pound black and white shih tzu named Oreo. The door opened a quarter of the way, blocked from a full opening by the rumpl
ed area rug. Oreo and little Bobby managed to squeeze through. Oreo threatened the stranger with vicious growls and barking from the front end, and his happy to see you tail slapping the door from his rear. Bobby’s hands and face pressed into the glass storm door, adding to the smudge marks from other recently welcomed visitors.
“It’s here,” Bobby called out. The rug behind tugged away, revealing Bobby’s older siblings, Danielle and Mitchell. Trailing close behind was Paula, their mother.
She’s still as beautiful as ever, Alan thought as she herded the kids and Oreo away from the storm door.
“Move, Bobby. Mitchell, grab Oreo,” Paula commanded. “Hey, Alan, how are you?” she asked as she opened the screen door.
“Great, Paula. Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
“That’s why I ordered the pizza. Dave is on a business trip and I didn’t have time to go shopping today,” she said as her free hand instinctively found its way to the top of Bobby’s head, preventing him from slipping around her. Still oblivious to her own ability to multitask, she redirected the boy and with a nudge, artfully sent him back into the house.
Alan used one hand to transfer the pizza as she propped the glass door open with her elbow and held out a twenty.
Alan retrieved the cash. “Any plans to take the family to the carnival?”
“Oh, that’s right. I saw them setting up. I’m sure we’ll get there before it’s gone. Hey, Alan, are you still doing the clown thing?”
“Yup, still clowning around,” he said as he pulled crumpled bills from his pocket, found a five-dollar bill, and attempted to give her change.
She stopped him with an open hand indicating his tip, three dollars more than her usual.
“Wow! I remember in high school,” she said, “every Halloween you would get on the bus dressed as a clown. Who knew you would still be doing it in your thirties?”
“Yeah, who would have guessed?” Alan replied in a more somber tone.
“Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s great that you were able to find work doing something you enjoy. It’s just that you never hear about people becoming clowns.”