Read Online Bedbugs by Rick Hautala - Free Book Online Page B

tent. Each . . . well, “specimen” was the only word she could think of to describe them; “human being” certainly didn’t fit—was increasingly disgusting. From TABOO—THE TATTOOED MAN and VINNY—THE PIG BOY they worked their way past TOM, DICK, AND HARRY—THE THREE-HEADED MAN and MATILDA—THE FAT LADY to LUCAN—THE WOLF BOY and TONY—THE SPIDER MAN, a pathetic individual with six—” COUNT ‘EM, BOYS ‘N GIRLS—SIX ”—vestigial arms dangling uselessly from his sides.
    “I think I’m gonna puke if I don’t get out of here soon,” Sally said. Her voice had that high-pitched, nasal whine she used whenever she wanted to get her way. She was vigorously rubbing the bulge of her stomach as though fearful that exposure to such horrors could somehow mark her unborn child.
    “Aww, com’on,?’ Dennis said frowning and shaking his head with disgust. “We paid our friggin’ money, so we might’s well see the rest of what they got.”
    “But this is . . . This is sick! These things should be . . . be put out of their misery, not paraded around in public like this.” Sally covered her mouth with the back of her hand, muffling her voice. “We certainly don’t have to stand here and gawk at them!”
    “What the hell did you expect? It’s a freak show,” Dennis said, his voice edged with frustration. “You had your chance to say no outside.” He was trying to keep his voice low as he eyed the people around them to make sure no one was listening to their argument.
    “I—I didn’t know they were going to be real people ,” Sally said. “I thought it’d be like—you know, two-headed cows in a bottle of formaldehyde or something. And I don’t think Denny should have to see things like this. God, it’ll give him nightmares. It’ll give me nightmares!”
    Dennis waved his hand at her in casual dismissal. “Look, babe—if you don’t like it, then you can drag your sorry ass right on out of here. There’s no reason you should ruin the fun for me.”
    “ Fun? You call this fun? ”
    Dennis stared coldly at his wife; then, unable to stop the words, he poked at her belly and added, “Maybe you saw a little too much of yourself in Matilda the Fat Woman. Is that it?”
    Sally’s eyes brimmed with tears. “That’s not fair,” she sputtered. Then, sniffing loudly, she spun the baby stroller around, not even bothering to apologize to the people she bumped into as she made her way back out the front door.
    “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Dennis muttered.
    Before moving on to the next exhibit, though, he quickly checked his watch. It was a quarter to one—fifteen minutes to go until they started selling tickets for the first show of LaBELLE—THE VOODOO QUEEN . He hurried through the rest of the FREAK SHOW, barely noticing the rest of the wonders as his mind filled with anticipation of LaBelle’s dance.
     
    I n the darkened tent, the music started out low with a slow, sensuous beat. The air was close, heavy with the smell of sweating men, sour beer, damp canvas, and old sawdust chips. Fifteen rows of low, wooden benches were crammed full of men, most of them wearing faded jeans and sweat-stained flannel work shirts. Only at the back of the tent did Dennis spot three or four women—probably college girls from Farmington, there to watch the show on a dare from their boyfriends. The rest of the audience, many of whom Dennis worked with at the mill—until yesterday, anyway—were watching the small stage as the tinny, pseudo-Egyptian music grew steadily louder. A man wearing a frayed tuxedo and top hat, and spinning a white-tipped cane in his right hand, strolled out onto center stage.
    “And now, gentlemen . . . di- rect from the burning sands of Egypt, to entertain you here today, I present to you—the bea- uti -ful . . . the ex- ot -ic . . . the e- rot -ic . . . LaBelle , the Voodoo Queen!”
    The audience exploded with wild applause, catcalls, and wolf whistles. No one, apparently, was