After the first run-in with the Carnies, Bingo woke in the Little Bigtop hospital. He didn’t remember what had happened. Once he finally passed out after the beating he took, he didn’t expect to ever wake up again.
“You’re one tough son of a bitch, you know that?” asked a voice from within the room.
Bingo looked around to see a clown sitting next to him. The stranger wore a nice blue suit and had neatly combed short blue hair. His blue nose was so slick and shiny that Bingo wondered if the guy polished it on a daily basis.
The blue-nosed clown continued, “Even with you being unconscious, those Carnie pricks still couldn’t kill you. They stabbed you almost twenty times before they gave up and left you lying there.”
“Who are you?” Bingo asked.
“My name’s Vinnie,” said the blue-nosed clown. “But the more important question is, who are you? You didn’t have any identification on you. The hospital called my people assuming you worked for us.”
“And who is us?”
“You must be new in Little Bigtop,” Vinnie said. “Nobody around here wouldn’t recognize a member of the Bozo Family when they’ve seen one.”
Bingo had heard of the Bozo Family, long before he moved to Little Bigtop. He couldn’t believe that the guy sitting next to him was in the clown mafia. He looked around the same age as Bingo, maybe even younger. It was hard to believe that a guy so young would be working with the mob.
“There’s not many of us big enough to match your description,” Vinnie said, “nor any of us stupid enough to pick a fight in Carnie territory, so we assumed you couldn’t have been with the Bozos. But still, my capo asked me to come by and check on you anyway. Maybe see if you needed a job.”
Bingo couldn’t believe what the blue-nosed clown was saying. “A job? Are you serious?”
“Any clown who can pick a fight with the Carnies in their own territory and come out of there alive, even on a stretcher, would do pretty well for himself in our line of work.”
“But you don’t even know me,” Bingo said. “I could even be a cop.”
“You’re no cop.” Vinnie laughed. “Judging by your clothes, I’d bet you’re some suburban kid who probably didn’t get along with his parents and wanted to move to the city where you’d be around more of your own kind. But since you got here, you probably haven’t been able to find a job. And I hate to break it to you, but you’re not likely to find one, either. A lot of clowns like you come here every month, and this place eats them right up. They usually end up hooked on laughy-gas and living out of a cardboard box by the end of the first year.”
It only took Bingo a minute to think about it.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” Bingo said. “I’m a violinist. I plan to join the symphony.”
Vinnie shrugged. “If that’s what you want to do, then you should do it. I wouldn’t stand in the way of anyone’s dreams. But if the only violin gig you find yourself is playing on a street corner for pocket change, give me a call.”
Vinnie gave him his card. It said he worked for someplace called THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH. Obviously, it wasn’t the real company he worked for.
Bingo tossed the card on the table next to his bed. “Thanks, but I’ll do fine playing violin. They say I’m pretty good at it.”
“By the looks of your fingers, I’m sure you’re great,” Vinnie said. “But being great doesn’t always equal success.”
Vinnie placed his blue hat on his head and took his leave. Before he left the room, he said, “Just think about it. This town’s been waiting for you, Bingo. You could really go far here.”
At first, Bingo had no intention of ever calling Vinnie Blue Nose, but for some reason he kept his card. When he couldn’t find work playing his violin anywhere, or work of any kind for that matter, and his parents cut off his allowance and told him to either come back home or sell his violin, he decided to give Vinnie a call. He didn’t care what kind of work the Bozo Family wanted him to do, as long as he got to keep his violin and stay in Little Bigtop. It wasn’t the line of work he ever saw himself getting into, but he was pretty sure that he’d get the hang of it.