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.A Traveling Show	By : keithcompany Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Gulliver's Travels Views: 1837 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on Gullivers Travels by Jonathan Swift.

Chapter List
- 1-A Traveling Show
- 2-two
- 3-three
- 4-Four
- 5-five
- 3
- 4
- 5
None of us smile when he put the pocket shirt back on. Fay really, really didn't want to go back on the damned two-wheeler. She staggered back from his hand when he went to pick her up.
"It's okay," I told her, walking up and waving my arms. I faced up to the giant but kept on talking to her. "If we're going shopping, I can guess your size."
"Mine?" Pat asked.
"Okay, sure." In the end, no one but me wanted to ride in the pocket. Bruce looked hurt. We tried to mime the discomfort but I wasn't sure he understood. Anyway, he realized that I was willing to go. He picked me up and wrapped me in a cloth, trying to insulate me.
It was still like a blacksmith convention in a galley hold, but it did help a bit. When the noise stopped, I wriggled out of the cloth and peeked out of the pocket.
To my surprise, we weren’t at the store, but in a dark place. It reminded me of an alley down by the docks. Lots of trash, no lights, doors designed for security rather than custom. I wondered what we were there for.
Bruce shushed me, though I wasn't saying anything. There was no one around and he let me stick out farther than before. I watched him adjust something in a box on the side of the building, then something on a door, then we went in.
Turned out, we WERE back at the store. We'd come in the back, while lights were out. The store was closed.
"We're robbing the place!" I realized. I had forgotten that Bruce was probably being a criminal when we met.
He made a beeline for the doll section. Then he lifted me out to stand on his palm as he passed a light across the goods. I made a few choices. I wasn't fond of theft, but it seemed like the only option besides nudity.
So, I tried to see what looked like a decent size, and a useful style. Like the dollhouses back home, the stuff wasn't terribly realistic. Lots of colors, though.
As we went along, I became more comfortable with the whole thing. Rationalized, sure, but I didn't go overboard. I made sure we had enough to clothe everyone, with a change for laundry day, of a few different scales to play it safe, then stopped.
I waved off all the rest and Bruce nodded. He bagged my 'purchases' and pocketed me and we went home.
It was odd to think of a giant's moving castle as home, but I was starting to.
The prospect of new clothes drove other needs. We smelled. "How do we ask for a chance at a bath?" I asked the group. We stood around the piled take
"Subtle hints," May suggested. She whistled and caught Bruce's attention. When he bent down, she lifted Fay's arm and sniffed her armpit. Staggering backwards across the surface, she sneezed a dozen times and fell in a faint. With a final spasm, she died. Fay stood there, staring; arm still up in the air.
"Subtle," Pat agreed.
Bruce laid a cloth over the corpse and went to the sink. He had a pot of hot water on the table in a matter of moments, a pitcher of cold held in his hand. We were pretty good at directing him by now. Jane was the most sensitive, so she tested the water, we directed pouring until she was satisfied.
Then Bruce saluted, put five gigantic towels down by the pot, a bar of soap in it, and withdrew.
"A gentleman," Fay observed, sinking into the water with a sigh.
"A thief," Pat countered.
"Well," May pointed out, "he was a criminal when we met him."
"We met him," I said, trying to work a lather up on the bar, "exactly because he was being a criminal. No telling who'd have found us if he wasn't there."
"Maybe he only does crime when he needs to," June said, sort of questioning. "I mean, he didn't immediately go to steal clothes, right? He tried to buy them, but it didn't work out."
"Maybe," Pat agreed. "But if he's only an as-needed thief, what does he do for a living?"
"Jewelry? Trust me, he's got a full set-up there."
"But we haven't seen him sell any," I said. June bit her lip, but didn't say anything else. We mostly lazed in the tub until it got cold.
----
The next day, Bruce drove into what I'd have called a park and stopped moving. He made sure we were all in the bedroom, then left. He was back in about half an hour, loaded with papers. We moved once, then the Personalspaceyouknow didn't move for a week.
The giant took a number of things out of storage, within and on top of the home. He was a long time outside, setting up a sort of booth. Wooden racks held displays of jewelry: necklaces, rings, and some unfamiliar works. On the other side of the booth, he had some odds and ends. In the middle, he set up a smaller version of his workbench.
When the ower arm was at the top of the clock, he collected some food from another booth and shared with us. Then he made sure we were all OUT of the bedroom and changed.
His new costume was...freaky. Lots of soft fabric, extra and pointless additions to the cut, bells and useless buckles all over the place, and cuffs you could hide the Royal Marching Drum Corp in. He seemed proud of it and posed for us. We tried to look more appreciative than confused. He smiled back and went outside.
The rest of the day was a people-watcher's dream. Giants went back and forth until well after darkness fell. Some were dressed as Bruce had been up to today, others were in costumes that made Court Dress look like fishing clothes.
"June! C'mere!" I yelled. "Some more people are looking at your ring." Bruce had put together a special display for the mermaid they'd both worked on. A shiny cloth that was the color of the harbor after a storm cleaned all the garbage out of it nested the ring under a sheet of glass.
Even behind the cover, the fine details were visible. And apparently, the giants appreciated it. They were staring at the thing and talking.
Bruce sat at his little bench, tapping or carving or polishing, and just kept shaking his head. I thought June would be proud to get such attention, but she was actually getting stressed. If we didn't force her away, she spent all her time at the bench.
She'd wedge something into place, then detail it, beg one of us to polish it, then start on another one. Bruce was outside too much of the day to notice just how obsessed she was getting.
"June? What's wrong, honey?"
"Nothing," she lied. "Can you hand me that punch?"
"No." I crossed my arms and stared at her. She walked around me to pick up the tool. I took both of her hands in mine. She fought for a second.
"I haven't got time for this!" she cried. "I have to make more STUFF!"
"The giant didn't make any demands that I could see," I said.
"But you saw. YOU SAW! He was so amazed at what I did to his ring. If he's amazed, they're amazed. And they'll pay. They'll pay for being amazed, you know they will."
"You want a piece of the action?" Pat asked. The others had drawn close to us on the bench top.
"No!" she cried. "Not like that. But if my work makes money, he won't have to steal! He won't get caught! WE won't end up in the hands of the city Watch!"
"Ah," I said. "All of our lives depend on you."
"Yes!" she said, and dropped like a puppet. I caught her in my arms and held her close, whispering in her ear. The rest of the family grouped around us.
"We're not burdens," I told her. "And he's a careful, careful thief. And while he appreciates your work, remember, we know he doesn't want you to burn out. He would never hurt you."
"Can you be sure?" she whispered.
"The curtain," May said. "His first thought was to take his home apart, rather than risk hurting you."
I thought it was a good point. So did June, but not the same way. She stood up straight, wiped her eyes and stared ahead. "Then I owe him," she said, walking back over to the piece she'd been working on. We stared at each other.
Bruce came back in just then. I swear, he was dancing on air. The display for the ring was empty and he had a huge stack of money in his other hand. The ring had sold, for an 'amazing' price, just as June had predicted. It wasn't the best timing.
He did notice that we weren't as thrilled as he thought we'd be. He asked...something.
Pat pointed to June, said "egg," and indicated breakage.
"What is that for?" May asked. "You're asking for breakfast?"
"No, egg means 'life.' I'm saying her life is messed up."
"He's going to think she wants 'em scrambled," May said.
"Or that she's infertile," Fay added.
Meanwhile, I'd walked up and drawn June into another hug. She fought her way free and attacked the jewelry again. Bruce nodded, understanding at least part of the problem.
He gently cupped his hands around our littlest sister and picked her up. Holding her in one hand, he stroked her hair and back with the other. His words, whatever they were, sounded soothing. She burst into tears and collapsed on his palm. He kept on stroking, glancing out the windows to keep an eye on his business.
Finally, when her cries slowed and softened, he eased her into a pocket. By design or chance, it was directly above his heart. I've been in that pocket since then. Between the heat and the percussion, the body is almost forced into sleep.
While he waited on customers for the rest of the day, June caught up on missed sleep. I think she made up for everything since the night of the storm.
When he brought her and dinner back inside that night, she was back to normal. Normal for a teenager in Giantland, anyway.
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