Step right up

Between the Tom Waits references in the last set of comments, and the talk of side shows and freaks, I couldn't have titled this post any differently.

All this freak show talk reminds me of the little carnival barker act I used to perform, for the amusement of my parents and any adults who happened to be in the vicinity. FR-eak!

For some background, I should say that my dad's hobby was stage magic, and he had an elaborate carnival-themed stage setup at one point, complete with giant boards that Tardist painted up for him with carnival cliches like Jo Jo the Dog-Faced Boy and the Exotic Dancers (shame on you, Dad) and the Balloon Escapist. He would do a carnival barker act and perform sleight of hand during the course of the rap. He had the red-and-white vest and straw skimmer hat, he had a cane with which to point at the signs as he spoke, he had it all, as far as this five-year-old ham was concerned. It wasn't long before little Bucky had Dad's straw hat on, Dad's vest on, and Dad's pointing cane bein' waved wildly 'round the room. It was an outfit that said nothing so much as: You will not get laid until you are at least 30, and even then, it's iffy.

Obviously, they should have started my therapy then. But instead, they encouraged my freakishness, fully allowing me access to the carnival setup and paraphernalia. My dad even taught me the barker's rap. I don't remember it word for word, but here's what I can remember:

Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, step right up...one thin dime, the tenth part of a dollar!
See Jo Jo the Dog-Faced Boy - he walks, he talks, he crawls on his belly like a reptile!
and then something about These tantalizing terpsichorians!

I really wish I remembed it all, but come on - I was five years old at the time. That was an awful lot of beers ago. What I do remember is that my carnival barker's voice sounded just like I was the bastard child of Howard Cosell and Fran Drescher. This act was my contribution to the first-grade talent show at Ferry Elementary School. That's right - in Grand Haven, you must train carefully to be a Ferry. Sorry, folks, there are no photos of which I am aware.

Oh, but I didn't just get trotted out at school. Oh, no. One particular night, my folks had some company over for dinner and drinks (in retrospect, the "drinks" part of it makes a lot more sense now). After dinner, during drinks (aha!), I was asked to don my barker's vestments and entertain the semi-tipsy gathering.

A chance to perform? Oh, fuck yeah! Little Bucky was only too happy to make like a monkey in front of anyone who would pay attention (some things do not change).

So, I launched into my little spiel, barkin' and cane pointin', and about the time I got to the phrase "these tantalizing terpsichorians" the cute surreality of it all was just too much to bear, and the company began to laugh out loud in delight.

Oh, I didn't take that in the right spirit, not one bit. I stopped short in my act. Laughing? At me? When I was not trying to elicit laughs? That would not do at all. A child does not realize that this is fond laughter, laughter that says "I'm gonna DIE from the preciousness!" To a child, to little Bucky anyway, this was being laughed AT. Since I clearly was not laughing, they could not be laughing WITH me. 'Twas an affront to my utter seriousness about this carnival barker shit. I reacted like a high-strung, temperamental little diva.

I bellowed, not in my Howard Cosell voice, "If y'all are gonna laugh, I'm NOT GONNA DO IT!" Then I took off my straw hat, sailed it across the room like it was an angry straw frisbee, and stomped out of the room. I was outraged that, after a stunned second of silence, the entire room broke into laughter. The company thought it was part of the act. Mom and Dad knew better, but let's face it - petulant, pissed-off little Bucky was probably pretty fuckin' hilarious.

I believe that was the end of my career as a carnival barker. But at least now I'm used to unintended laughter.