Bingo was only nineteen and wasn’t yet accustomed to life in the city. The suburban clown from Connecticut didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Even being the size that he was, Carnival Island just wasn’t the place anyone went to on their own. The old lady living in the apartment next door warned him of the frequent muggings and reports of stabbings, but Bingo wasn’t worried. He figured nobody would see the point in mugging him. Clowns weren’t known for having much money.
The lines were long, the food was terrible, and families kept asking to take pictures of him holding their kids because they thought he worked there, but other than that Bingo thought it was a marvelous place. He liked the energy in the air and the crowds of excited people running from the house of mirrors to the dunk-a-clown to the bumper cars to the knife-throwing booth.
He got to meet Petunia the Bearded Lady, who was strangely beautiful even with the massive amounts of fur growing from her face. He witnessed Gustav the Knife Thrower toss six-inch blades at a young screaming woman, missing only by inches, all with a blindfold covering his eyes. And he even got to go muscle-to-muscle against Orlando the Strong Man, who was somehow able to lift twice the weight that Bingo could. The clown wondered if it was some kind of trick or if the guy really was that much stronger than him. He’d never met anyone who could outlift him before, even as a child. The strong man patted Bingo on the back and shook his hand, wiggling his handlebar mustache at the large crowd that gathered to witness the match. The crowd couldn’t tell, but Orlando was obviously annoyed at the clown for challenging him. Bingo could see it in his eyes. Had the strong man lost to a clown it would’ve been a great insult to him. Bingo thought he had to have cheated.
Bingo’s favorite part of the carnival was the rides. He’d never been on carnival rides before. His parents never took him to any amusement parks as a kid, probably because they didn’t want him to be influenced by the clowns who worked at them. They were a proper suburban family, after all, and had a hard enough time dealing with his aggressive personality as it was; the last thing they needed was for him to start telling jokes, juggling bowling pins, and riding a unicycle around the neighborhood like some kind of hoodlum. But it wasn’t until that day that Bingo realized exactly what he’d been missing out on. The rides were an adrenaline rush. He went on the roller coaster twelve times and puked after every single time. But no matter how much he threw up, he still had to go back for more.
After one particularly dizzy ride—one that was so rickety Bingo thought it was going to collapse halfway through, not to mention the rumbling belly full of carnival chili he just gobbled down to make up for all the food he’d lost after the previous rides—Bingo ran around the side of a building to hack up the chunkiest, spiciest stew he’d ever coughed up. The pile was still hot and steaming on the sidewalk as he wiped the slime from his blue-and-red mouth. That’s when he heard the muffled screams coming from around the corner.
If Bingo were any other local he would’ve let it go, but he just didn’t know any better. He could tell somebody was in trouble. When he stepped around the corner, he saw three men dragging a woman behind a dumpster. She was some vanilla tourist who must’ve gotten separated from her boyfriend. Either that or the boyfriend was knocked out cold in a bathroom somewhere.
The men were carnival security. Bingo realized right then why so many crimes were committed on Carnival Island. The muggings, stabbings, rapes, and beatings were not done by some street punks who wandered into the carnival to prey on the tourists. The security guards and the men committing the crimes were one and the same.
“What’s the big idea?” Bingo said to them.
When they saw the clown standing there, the security guards laughed out loud. They weren’t intimidated by the clown in the slightest, not even by his size. When they stood up, the woman ran away, holding her torn clothes together.
“Just having a little fun,” said one of the men. He had big black muttonchops, three gold teeth, and tiny round glasses held up by a crooked nose. “But we can have fun with you instead if you insist, big boy.”
Bingo didn’t move, clenching his fists.
“I don’t like guys who disrespect women,” Bingo said.
The security guards laughed.
“You think we were disrespecting her?” asked Mutton Chops. “Nah, we were just showing her a good time. Carnie-style.”
The three men closed in on Bingo, but the clown didn’t move.
“You ought to know that clowns aren’t allowed on Carnival Island.” Mutton Chops pulled an empty whiskey bottle from the dumpster. “Not unless you work for us.”
Bingo had gone up against far more than three guys in the past, but those were all suburban frat boys who didn’t like clowns. These guys were bloodthirsty thugs. He’d never had to fight anyone like these guys before.
“Maybe I’m looking for a job,” Bingo said.
Mutton Chops giggled. “Yeah, well we aren’t hiring.” He raised the whiskey bottle. “I hear they’ve got some openings in the morgue. Why don’t you try there?”
Then the head security guard smashed the whiskey bottle over Bingo’s head. The glass shattered across his face and sprinkled to the ground, but the clown just stood there, completely unfazed.
“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that,” Bingo said.
“I intend to.”
Before Bingo could take his first swing, somebody grabbed the clown from behind and wrapped a wire around his throat. The guy was strong, stronger than Bingo. He didn’t realize it was Orlando the Strong Man until his face was driven into the asphalt and the other Carnies kicked him in the chest and stomach. The big guy with the wiggling handlebar mustache really was stronger than Bingo. It was no trick. The guy kept him pinned down as Mutton Chops and his friends beat him to a bloody, swollen mess of a clown.