| Short Story |
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Help Wanted
by Adam Lewis
Carrie knocked on the trailer door, which served as both a home and a
business office to J.P. Gilman, owner of Gilman’s Freaks, a traveling carnival
sideshow attraction. She came to the carnival last night and returned this
evening to answer an advertisement she saw stapled to a wooden lamppost
around the carnival grounds. The sign, which had drawings depicting the
freak show acts read, Freak Show Assistant Needed, No Experience
Necessary.
She was starting college in the fall and needed the extra money. The freak
show sounded like an interesting job. More interesting that scanning grocery
items at the local market.
Hearing the knock, Gilman hobbled to the window and puleed back the
curtain and peeked out. Upon seeing Carrie, he smiled, licked his palm and
tried to wet down the scraggly strands of hair that he combed over his
balding head. Her blond hair, stout frame and chubby body aroused him. He
felt a twitch in his pants and grabbed himself through his pants. He pushed it
to the side, trying to hide the small bump so she would not become
uncomfortable and leave if she noticed his tiny erection .
He opened the door and asked, while licking his dry, perverted and smirking
lips “What can I do for you my dear?
Instantly repulsed by the ammonia stech that swept by her as the trailer
door opened, Carrie choked and replied “I read your ad in the paper for an
assistant. It said you needed one for the rest of the summer.”
“I do, I do. Come on in!” he said excitedly, while standing to the side of the
door with a hand stretched out, welcoming her inside.
With caution, she stepped inside while timidly clutching her left forearm.
Gilman’s appearance repulsed her. He was about five foot tall and extremely
obese. His face was pockmarked and his neck hid under a mass of hanging
fat, which dangled like a necklace over his chest. Poking out from under a
yellow, sweat-stained, tight undershirt; his pimply stomach draped below his
waistline. Tattered, strectched out suspenders held up his oversized
trousers that bunched up over his bare and dirt-stained feet. His arms were
matted over thick black hair that also curled out from under the shirt collar.
“Sit down, please!” he said, pulling out a rickety wooden chair.
Upon seeing his hotdog like fingers and aclloused palms, the bitter taste of
bile came back up into her mouth. She sat down and swallowed hard while
scanning the dimly lit trailer. Piles of dirty clothes littered the floor along with
candy wrappers and Chinese take out cartons. Dishes with flies scurrying
across, which were spotted with furry mold, cluttered the counter tops.
Convexed ceiling tiles were sporadically spotted in yellowish circular water
stains from where rain leaked through the roof. The trailer walls were
decorated with old carnival posters from around the country advertising
Gilman’s Freaks with bold lettering on the bottom reading, ASSISTANT
NEEDED, APPLY TODAY!
Trying to hold her breath between short inhales in order to avoid smilling
the sweat and urine stench, she quickly asked “What does the job entail?”
“Well I need a girl to assist me during the show. I not only own the freak
show, I am one of the freaks.” he said with a wry smirk, while greedily rubbing
his hands together.
Trying to be polite and not show further disgust, she asked “What is so
freakish about you?” Even though by looking at his extemely obese body,
she had her own ideas what act in the show he was, The Human Blob.
He turned from her, waddled across the trailer and pulled out a large
butcher knife out of a closet. “I work with very sharp objects.” he said in a low
hissing voice while smiling at himself in the knife’s reflection.
Carrie faked a smile and tried to sound excited even though he made her
uncomfortable. “Oh, you swallow swords?”
Gilman chuckled while sharpening the butcher knife. “No, I already have a
girl who swallows everythng from swords to razorblades.” Without wincing, he
plucked a long strand of hair from his balding head. He pulled his thumb and
pointer finger apart and dropped the hair on the knife blade. The hair split in
two.
Carrie became nervous and trembled as she watched the hair float to the
trailer floor. She tried masking her jitters by asking him another question, but
her shaky voice hinted she was becoming scared. “What do you do then?”
He put down the butcher knife and picked up a rusty metal meat tenderizer.
“I eat raw meat. The bloodier, the better!” He turned and slowly hobbled to
her. His perverted smile turned demonic as he smelled and licked the meat
tenderizer. Disgusted, Carrie glanced away from him and glared over his
shoulder into the closet. There she saw women’s clothing; dresses, blouses
and pants hanging with splatters and stains of dark red.
Frightened, she said, “I think I should go now. I’m having second thoughts
about the job. I don’t need the money that badly. She quickly stood up from
the chair and kept eye contact with Gilman. In doing so, she accidentally
slipped on rotted pork fried rice and tripped into and over the chair. She fell
to the floor and landed on a pile of moist clothes that were soaked with
blood. Whimpering, she smeared her bloody hands across her pant legs
and timorously crawled over the trash littered floor towards the trailer exit.
Gilman wobbled toward her and before she could reach the door, he
bashed the meat tenderzier over her head. She collapsed to the floor and
slowly rolled onto her side trying to push herself up on her feet to escape.
But the blow and sudden gush of blood pouring from her temple made her
woozy. He raised the tenderizer to his mouth, licked off the blood, swished
and savored its salty taste. Smiling in delightful satisfaction, he put down the
tenderizer and picked up the butcher knife.
He stood over Carrie with reddish droll dripping off his chin and said in high
spirits, “Congratulations my dear, you’re hired!”
by Adam Lewis
Carrie knocked on the trailer door, which served as both a home and a
business office to J.P. Gilman, owner of Gilman’s Freaks, a traveling carnival
sideshow attraction. She came to the carnival last night and returned this
evening to answer an advertisement she saw stapled to a wooden lamppost
around the carnival grounds. The sign, which had drawings depicting the
freak show acts read, Freak Show Assistant Needed, No Experience
Necessary.
She was starting college in the fall and needed the extra money. The freak
show sounded like an interesting job. More interesting that scanning grocery
items at the local market.
Hearing the knock, Gilman hobbled to the window and puleed back the
curtain and peeked out. Upon seeing Carrie, he smiled, licked his palm and
tried to wet down the scraggly strands of hair that he combed over his
balding head. Her blond hair, stout frame and chubby body aroused him. He
felt a twitch in his pants and grabbed himself through his pants. He pushed it
to the side, trying to hide the small bump so she would not become
uncomfortable and leave if she noticed his tiny erection .
He opened the door and asked, while licking his dry, perverted and smirking
lips “What can I do for you my dear?
Instantly repulsed by the ammonia stech that swept by her as the trailer
door opened, Carrie choked and replied “I read your ad in the paper for an
assistant. It said you needed one for the rest of the summer.”
“I do, I do. Come on in!” he said excitedly, while standing to the side of the
door with a hand stretched out, welcoming her inside.
With caution, she stepped inside while timidly clutching her left forearm.
Gilman’s appearance repulsed her. He was about five foot tall and extremely
obese. His face was pockmarked and his neck hid under a mass of hanging
fat, which dangled like a necklace over his chest. Poking out from under a
yellow, sweat-stained, tight undershirt; his pimply stomach draped below his
waistline. Tattered, strectched out suspenders held up his oversized
trousers that bunched up over his bare and dirt-stained feet. His arms were
matted over thick black hair that also curled out from under the shirt collar.
“Sit down, please!” he said, pulling out a rickety wooden chair.
Upon seeing his hotdog like fingers and aclloused palms, the bitter taste of
bile came back up into her mouth. She sat down and swallowed hard while
scanning the dimly lit trailer. Piles of dirty clothes littered the floor along with
candy wrappers and Chinese take out cartons. Dishes with flies scurrying
across, which were spotted with furry mold, cluttered the counter tops.
Convexed ceiling tiles were sporadically spotted in yellowish circular water
stains from where rain leaked through the roof. The trailer walls were
decorated with old carnival posters from around the country advertising
Gilman’s Freaks with bold lettering on the bottom reading, ASSISTANT
NEEDED, APPLY TODAY!
Trying to hold her breath between short inhales in order to avoid smilling
the sweat and urine stench, she quickly asked “What does the job entail?”
“Well I need a girl to assist me during the show. I not only own the freak
show, I am one of the freaks.” he said with a wry smirk, while greedily rubbing
his hands together.
Trying to be polite and not show further disgust, she asked “What is so
freakish about you?” Even though by looking at his extemely obese body,
she had her own ideas what act in the show he was, The Human Blob.
He turned from her, waddled across the trailer and pulled out a large
butcher knife out of a closet. “I work with very sharp objects.” he said in a low
hissing voice while smiling at himself in the knife’s reflection.
Carrie faked a smile and tried to sound excited even though he made her
uncomfortable. “Oh, you swallow swords?”
Gilman chuckled while sharpening the butcher knife. “No, I already have a
girl who swallows everythng from swords to razorblades.” Without wincing, he
plucked a long strand of hair from his balding head. He pulled his thumb and
pointer finger apart and dropped the hair on the knife blade. The hair split in
two.
Carrie became nervous and trembled as she watched the hair float to the
trailer floor. She tried masking her jitters by asking him another question, but
her shaky voice hinted she was becoming scared. “What do you do then?”
He put down the butcher knife and picked up a rusty metal meat tenderizer.
“I eat raw meat. The bloodier, the better!” He turned and slowly hobbled to
her. His perverted smile turned demonic as he smelled and licked the meat
tenderizer. Disgusted, Carrie glanced away from him and glared over his
shoulder into the closet. There she saw women’s clothing; dresses, blouses
and pants hanging with splatters and stains of dark red.
Frightened, she said, “I think I should go now. I’m having second thoughts
about the job. I don’t need the money that badly. She quickly stood up from
the chair and kept eye contact with Gilman. In doing so, she accidentally
slipped on rotted pork fried rice and tripped into and over the chair. She fell
to the floor and landed on a pile of moist clothes that were soaked with
blood. Whimpering, she smeared her bloody hands across her pant legs
and timorously crawled over the trash littered floor towards the trailer exit.
Gilman wobbled toward her and before she could reach the door, he
bashed the meat tenderzier over her head. She collapsed to the floor and
slowly rolled onto her side trying to push herself up on her feet to escape.
But the blow and sudden gush of blood pouring from her temple made her
woozy. He raised the tenderizer to his mouth, licked off the blood, swished
and savored its salty taste. Smiling in delightful satisfaction, he put down the
tenderizer and picked up the butcher knife.
He stood over Carrie with reddish droll dripping off his chin and said in high
spirits, “Congratulations my dear, you’re hired!”
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