4

SOCKS AND JOCKS

MEANWHILE, AT BIGTOP HEADQUARTERS

The two clowns escape from the traffic jam and drive into Brisbane City. The orange van speeds down Elizabeth Street and turns in to a back alley, pulling up in front of a rusty old garage door. Pointy hat clown reaches out with a purple–gloved hand to press the keypad. The garage door creaks opens and he steers the van into a warehouse.

‘Hurry up, Jocks!’ snaps blue hair. ‘Ringmaster is waiting!’

‘Cool it, Socks,’ says the driver. ‘The boss can wait.’

A voice booms inside the van. ‘You idiots forget that I can see and hear everything!’ It’s Ringmaster.

Pointy hat jumps in fright and head-butts the roof of the van.

‘You stupid clowns!’ Ringmaster growls, watching them through a hidden camera planted inside the dashboard.

‘Sorry, boss! Coming now!’ says Jocks, fixing his hat. He drives the van onto a metal circle in the middle of the warehouse and flashes the headlights twice. The metal circle makes a clunking noise from below, and the van sinks through the floor, travelling deep underground where Ringmaster awaits.

Fifty metres below Elizabeth Street, Ringmaster paces in the BIGTOP Australian headquarters. BIGTOP circuses are in every country and are constantly on the lookout for people with ‘special’ abilities. Their ringmasters convince them to join the circus, and then steal their DNA and send it to BIGTOP International Headquarters for cloning. The BIGTOP scientists want to create a super-human army — designed to take over the world!

BIGTOP circuses are made up of mostly good people, who know nothing about what goes on behind the scenes, but make no mistake. Every BIGTOP has a Ringmaster and clowns that you do not want to mess with.

Today, two of his most trusted villains have let this Ringmaster down. The clowns get out of the van and waddle over to their boss. Perched on a red leather chair, he watches them as their long clown shoes slap on the concrete floor. Ringmaster’s top hat sits on his neatly brushed black hair. He strokes his thin moustache thoughtfully as Socks and Jocks stand before him. They can see their reflections in his black, shiny riding boots.

‘My jesters. Please remind me what BIGTOP stands for?’ says Ringmaster.

Jocks removes his pointy hat and clasps it to his chest, exposing a wispy green patch of hair on his head.

‘Biological Investigation Group to Organise Prototypes,’ says Jocks.

Ringmaster smiles as he straightens the collar of his red jacket. ‘Very good, Jocks. Now, Socks, remind me what BIGTOP does?’

Socks and Jocks know that something bad is about to happen, but they answer his questions — it’s the safest thing to do.

‘BIGTOP takes samples of people’s DNA and clones them. I wish we could clone Jocks,’ says Socks nervously.

Ringmaster lets out a sinister laugh. ‘And why would that be, my dear clown?’ he asks softly.

‘I’m tired of cleaning the elephant cage. Jocks’ clone could do it for me!’

The clowns laugh but Ringmaster is no longer laughing. ‘All you had to do was collect the DNA of a boy called Dylan Conlan!’ he screams. ‘Or should I say, Deadly D? Your incompetence means we will have to try again.’

Socks and Jocks are terrified. Their boss towers above them, a whip in his hands.

‘We’re sorry, boss!’ whimpers Jocks.

‘Please give us another chance!’ pleads Socks.

But it’s too late. Ringmaster cracks his whip. Socks and Jocks know the routine.

‘Flip you for it?’ Jocks says to Socks, spinning a twenty-cent coin in the air.

‘Heads!’ yells Socks, but it lands on tails.

Jocks laughs and runs to the corner of the room, wheeling out the human cannon, pointing it in the direction of Ringmaster’s indoor cactus garden. He throws a helmet to Socks and chuckles to himself. Things are about to get very prickly.