The three bodyguard clowns searched Earl’s medical case and then patted him down. It showed the boss was thorough. Even with an ordinary guy like Earl, he couldn’t be too careful.
“Let’s go,” said Captain Spotty, leading Earl into the back. The three guards followed.
Earl tried to keep his hand from shaking as he carried his case down the hall. He had no idea how he was going to give a lethal injection to the boss clown with these goons surrounding him.
“Be on your best behavior,” Spotty said. “The boss is in a foul mood today.”
Earl nodded.
Spotty saw his lips trembling. “And stop being so antsy. You look like a rat wearing a wire. Relax. You’ll do fine.”
But Earl couldn’t help it. By the time he entered the boss’s office and saw the big man in person, the vet’s neck was dripping with sweat. One look at him and the boss was immediately displeased.
“This is the guy who’s supposed to heal my darling Happytooth? This sorry excuse for a prick?”
Don Bozo was an intimidating figure with his keg-sized belly, bushy fire-red eyebrows, and a Dominican cigar hanging out of his bulldoglike jowls. He sat behind his desk, eating sausages with a serving fork. He didn’t bother to remove his cigar as he ate.
“You wanted the best doc at the zoo,” Spotty said. “They said he’s the best.”
“He ain’t even a clown,” said the boss. “How’s a vanilla vet going to save a clown’s lion?”
“There ain’t no clown vets at the Bronx Zoo,” Spotty said. “There ain’t no clown vets anywhere for that matter.”
“Well, I don’t trust him.” Don Bozo shoved the rest of the plate of sausages down his gullet. “The man makes me nervous.”
Spotty saw that Earl Berryman was shaking in his boots, even worse than before. He whispered into his ear, “I told you to relax. Be a man for cryin’ out loud.”
Earl wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to suck it up.
Bozo rolled his eyes. “Christ, the putz can’t even stand up straight. How’s he going to hold a scalpel while he’s shaking like that?”
“He says he’s coulrophobic,” Spotty said.
“Callya what?”
“Coulrophobic. You know, he’s scared of clowns.”
The boss’s bushy eyebrows shot up to the top of his thick white forehead. “Then what the hell is he doing in Little Bigtop? Get rid of him. Come back with a doctor who’s got some balls.”
Captain Spotty looked at Earl, then back at the boss. He shrugged and grabbed the vet by the elbow. “If you say so. Come on, Doc. You blew it.”
As Spotty escorted him toward the door, Earl panicked.
“Wait,” Earl yelled, shoving away from the shabby clown. “You’ve got to let me do it.”
The boss nearly choked on his sausages when the vet charged toward his desk. The large clowns grabbed him. “Is this guy for real? Who’s he think he is coming at me like that?”
“I’m sorry, but I need this job,” Earl said, putting his finger in the boss’s face. “And you’re not going to find anyone in the whole state with half as much surgical experience as I have with large felines. You’d have to fly in somebody from Florida. And by then, it might be too late.”
Bozo spit his cigar at the vet. “Get your finger out of my face before you lose it, shrimp.”
Earl lowered his hand but didn’t stand down.
Spotty came forward. “He’s already here, boss. You might as well have him take a look at Happytooth. See how long she has.”
Bozo leaned back, staring the vet in the eyes. “Well, I guess the vanilla’s got more balls than I thought.”
“So can I do my job or what?” Earl asked.
The boss stood up from his seat. His massive belly flipped over the empty plate and spilled gravy all over the desk. “Fine, we’ll give him a shot.”
Earl let out a sigh and nearly fell to his knees. He couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with that.
Bozo wobbled toward the door. “Come with me.”