Monty's flying circus by wytchcroft

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Monty's flying circus
Friday, February 15, 2008

deleted scene from Uriah's Heap

“Welcome aboard!” Monty Reynolds roared jovially from the bulkhead as the dandified and ragged members of the Solar Circus trooped into the loading bay.
Various members of Monty’s crew watched with eager faces – noting the finery, the equipment, the strongmen, the tattooed women.

“Thank you Suh!” came back the reply in a broad theatrical voice. “It’s a fine ship you’re having – and we’re glad of it!”
The voice belonged to a stout figure in a patchwork frockcoat clashing noticeably with the wild red of his beard. “And you’d be?”
“Why Suh, I’m nuthin if not Jefferson Feng ”, and he bowed formally, “romantic, explorer, purveyor of fine remedies and medication and manager of this circus. And - speaking Suh, as a man as wears a hair suit himself - may I be bold enough to complement you on that fine beard of yours.”
Monty stuck his chin out proudly. “And mine to you”, he added politely.
“Hell, that aint but lambs wool on the fence!” A new and aggrieved sounding voice cut in – and Feng found himself bowled suddenly sideways by the burly form of Ligea the bearded lady who stood firm to stare at Reynolds.

Monty was taken aback – and – gorram it if a blush didn’t start to lustre up his cheeks.
“THIS is a real beard!” exclaimed the woman.
HHMMPH! “Mighty indeed”, Monty murmured hoarsely.
Ligea grinned, slapping the leathered trouser of her thigh “takes one to know one Mr Monty – and this…” she indicated Feng, “aint one to know much of anything.”
Feng looked peeved – and Monty was glad to get back to business.
“Ah,” he said. “So, not the owner then?”
Feng looked crestfallen. “Alas I cannot claim that honour.”
Monty nodded. “Because the owner would be…?”
“That’d be me!” Another strong voice called out – and this time proving to be from the disconcertingly tiny form of Max the Mighty Midget MC, held aloft by one of the strongmen.
“Welcome aboard the Madagascar.”
“Pleasure Sir!” Max jumped down from his perch and forward rolled, coming upright with a twirl of his top hat.

Lemuel Samms found himself clapping involuntarily and Monty could feel the eyes of his crew – and the desire therein. “Well, Max,” he bellowed, “this place big enough for a show?”
Max nodded “Of course Captain – we keep our promises – and we aint never been shy of working a passage.”
Monty smiled. “Well then, there’s more’n a few of my lads keen enough for that.”
“Aye Sir!” yelled one of his crew, lugging a heavy chest under the icy glare of a woman he took to be a fortune-teller of some sort.

Jefferson Feng decided to reassert himself and coughed with an elaborate discreetness heard by all.
“And a fine show it’ll be – especially seeing as us poor circus souls been seeking transport for, well, an age it certainly does seem, and if a poor circus can bring such resplendent folks pleasure? Well that’s all to the good and worth the price.”
He smiled up at Monty.
Monty smiled back. “Well we always like a good display – you ever seen gizzards hanging from a yard arm? That can be mighty entertaining!”
Feng stopped smiling then.

Monty guffawed and beckoned to Max. “Reckon I can provide you and the circus folk with more than passage – we got a secure base where you can take any rest you need, might even find space enough there to pitch up proper and for time.”
Legia flashed a look.
“Well, uh, little whiles anyway”, Monty corrected.
The M.C. looked impressed. “That’s an intriguing notion Captain Reynolds,” he bounded up the spiral stairwell three steps at once, to go talk up some trade.
“Captain, uh, y’say, uh, Reynolds?” queried Feng.
“That’d be me”, Monty affirmed, “That mean something to you?”
But Jefferson Feng had already vanished completely into the circus crowd.

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COMMENTS

Saturday, February 16, 2008 7:58 PM