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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
- 4
- 5
The Wren-Faire, as Bruce called it, lasted a week. Each day, more and weirder people came by to look at his wares, buy some, or sell him something. Food came from other booths, usually a lot more in the style of Blefuscu cooking than the paper sack 'sandwiches' he found on the road.
A few times, someone looking out the window saw a juggler, acrobat, tumbler or other performer wander by while displaying their skills.
Fascinating as it was to watch, it did remind us that we were a traveling show that wasn't showing. No performances for the Argelethump Sisters Balance Dancing.
Somehow, rather than drive us to despair, it inspired us to practice. Soon, we had floss strung all over the moving castle, and were flipping, running and tossing ourselves back and forth with abandon.
After getting a twin in the eye, Fay in an ear, and nearly strangled by me (I was trying to loop from the stove to the ice box when he came out of the bedroom and caught my line around the throat), Bruce learned to knock before entering any room. Or sometimes, knock and then not enter the room.
The last day of the WrenFaire, he closed shop and took us around. He adjusted a sort of leather pouch on a bandolier and made a place for each of us to sit in it. He hung it near his shoulder. I thought it looked awkward, but we were close enough to get his attention if we needed to.
He walked and showed us what the other booths were. Some were understandable, some were foreign beyond description. They built, sewed, piled, destroyed, strung, polished, boxed, and a hundred other crafts, all sitting side by side.
Money changed hands and food was passed into the pouch. In another spot, we listened to music or watched the tumblers. The music was almost homelike, the balance dancing pitiful.
"Maybe it's all the meat," Fay mused.
"Their diet?" May asked.
"No, their mass. Look at them. It'd take a lot more than the usual amount of strength to get that great lump of a blonde into the air."
"Ah," I nodded. "So they don't jump over each other's heads because they can't."
"Right," Pat agreed. "It isn't a style, it's ability."
"It's disability," May corrected.
"Well, I think they're good," June said.
"Oh, sure, for someone the size of a church lookup, just jumping up into the air is skilled," Fay assured her. "It's just that they couldn't really compete in Wistenellenden."
"Too bad we can't compete here," I mused.
At one point, Bruce entered a tent that showed many styles and samples of clothing on display. He apparently knew the two women inside, as there was much smiling and hugging, unlike his greeting for anyone else that we'd seen.
They talked for a while, quite boringly. We didn’t understand the language, we weren't going to wear the dresses, and none of us found the relatively small and plump giantesses particularly compelling.
Then Bruce brought something out of a pocket. It was my suit. The clothes I'd been wearing when we met the man. They were more than a little ragged, but the cut, the style was easily apprehended.
The two women examined the clothing and talked rather a long time about it. One or another would point out a feature they found interesting, then they'd giggle and talk some more.
"What is he doing?" May asked softly. We all kept our voices down, this close to discovery.
"Selling our clothing?" Pat suggested.
"Selling MY clothing," I muttered. June was paying more attention to the exchange as another craftswoman, though.
"He's seeing if they can make it, or repair it, I think," she said. "They're not sure if they can stitch that small, or get cloth that fine, I think."
"Hmmm," Fay judged. "Seems likely. Now that you mention it. I wonder when it occurred to him?"
"When we got dressed after the bath," I said. "He watched us trying to find a comfortable way to wear something with a seam the size of a fazzit fruit." We all squirmed a bit in memory. The stuff needed some tailoring. We were going to try the clothes for bigger dolls, cutting away the seams and trimming it down to size. We just hadn't figured out how to ask for the right tools.
"Oh, look! My brooches!" June whispered. Bruce had only sold the one ring that June had worked on, but had shown appreciation for everything she'd worked on. These two matched pieces he offered to the seamstresses when they were about to turn him down.
They were about speechless when he slid them across the table. They looked at each other, whispered in conference, and finally nodded in the way the giants indicate agreement. Hands were shaken and we went on through the booths.
We crossed paths with many of his customers, there were greetings, but none as friendly as the two with my clothes. Finally, he returned home and got the place ready for travel.
After leaving the park, we were in a market place of some sort. He drew images of some of the meals we had. We voted for 'yeah, get more of this' by standing on the pics of our favorites.
He came back with foods we recognized and more than a few products we didn't. And more of the plays for the box in the bedroom. But instead of historical plays, these were instructional.
A number of strange beings and puppets helped teach us out to speak what the Englishman spoke. It was amazing. They taught the words, the numbers, simple relationships and grammar. Imagine using the Royal Parkemble Company to tutor an audience.
The next few days were carefully structured. On rising, we'd have breakfast, usually something Bruce put together. Then he'd start a play, we'd watch and learn for an ower or so while he drove. Then we'd practice, teaching June simple balancing acts, such as how to get from the bedroom to the steering seats without breaking her neck.
After that, she'd get two owers with the jewelry while we worked on more complicated routines or skills. Bruce learned another skill of his own, which was to drive without paying any attention to what was flying around behind his back.
Lunch was paper sack stuff, more often than not. We were learning the words to ask for specific things, usually expressed as 'one day ago' or 'two day back meal.'
We saved up one expression until we had it cold. He asked, as he did every day, what we wanted for lunch. We shouted, in unison, "GIMMEE COOKIE! GIMMEE COOKIE!" He was staggered by our new grasp of proper communication for nutritional selections.
And we found out what a cookie was.
We postponed our post-workout bath until after lunch. Mamma would have been scandalized, but we learned it was necessary.
At Mamma's table, no one stood a chance of tripping on the silverware and falling head first across a slice of pizza or other exotic giant food. More than one meal, part of the entree made it into the bathpan.
Bruce would carry the diners and the pot of water into the bedroom, to clean ourselves off while he did the dishes in the kitchen. We were usually done by the time he knocked on the door, then secured everything for more travel.
The afternoon was spent grouped around the driving seat, practicing speaking to the manmountain. It was slow going, but as a group, we were getting quite the vocabulary.
The twins, of course, concentrated on the vulgar. One day, on the way back to our bath, Pat started stripping off her clothes while we were still in his hands. "Bruce stay, looking naked Pat?" she asked.
Beneath us, his hands started to tremble.
"No," I said, in Fuscan and then in Englishman. "Whatever you want to do, to tease a man that can crush you in a fit of passion, you do NOT have permission to invite him to watch the rest of us bathe. Look at June!" The girl was blushing from head to toe, I think, and staring down at the ground. Well, down at the palm.
Bruce set us down and fled. It was quite a while before he came back, which we spent staring extra hard at Pat.
"Are you trying to make him think he picked up shipwrecked sluts?" May asked her.
"I don't know, I just, well, I, um... "
"Oh, good," Fay sneered. "I was afraid that it wasn't a thought-out plan." We shared a look that the twins missed. June didn't though.
The next time we were alone, which was after dinner, she asked about it.
"The girls are...competitive," I explained. "Always have been. Now that Pat's made a pass at Bruce, May's going to have to do something."
"Oh. Dangerous?" she asked.
"Probably."
Bed, by then, was a bit better than the box. Bruce had emptied out a drawer and lined it with soft clothes. A spring-loaded device kept it from sliding open while we traveled, but also allowed little girls to open and close it by activating the mechanism.
There was room to spread out, but we'd gotten in the habit of piling up. So I kind of noticed when someone slipped out of the pile during the night. Noticed, but not alarmed.
In the morning, we woke to the squeak of the drawer opening. I found Fay and June quickly, and saw May making her way inside.
I noticed she had the most smug look on her face and turned to Fay. Her eyebrow was up in a silent comment.
"What happened to you?" she asked May.
"Oh, I had a wonderful night," she replied. "I found this sort of ventilation space connecting the kitchen to the bathroom and the bedroom. I crawled through that last night and-" She was interrupted when Pat dropped down into the drawer, a similar smug look on her own face.
"What happened to you?" Fay asked Pat.
"Oh, nothing much," she drawled. "I just crawled under the door and seduced the giant last night."
"What!? But _I_ seduced the giant last night," May shouted in response.
"Huh? No WAY! I was in his bed all night."
"I was!"
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"No."
"Good because-"
"I mean, not without an adjective, like 'what an incredible liar!' or 'can you believe the bald-face lies that girl spreads.'"
"You bitch!" June was quite worried, not being used to this side of their mutual personality. Fay and I weren't all that worried, not about their fighting, and it wasn't even the first time they fought over a man. Problem was, this time they were both aiming for the one and only man in our lives. No one could shrug and say 'plenty of bees in the flowers,' at the end.
"Have you considered," I said, stepping between the two, "that he is a giant?"
"Ohhhh, yeah," they both smugged. "I am QUITE aware of his...size."
"I did NOT need the pregnant pause right then," I told them. "But the fact is, there's more than enough of him to go around. Is it possible that you were both making love to the same man and didn't see each other?"
Shocked, they turned to each other.
"I was at his..." May gestured vaguely.
"I was more at the...." Pat pointed imprecisely.
"So it's possible?" Fay giggled. "You two shared a man and didn’t know it?"
They sagged. I think it was the fact that they'd never know for sure who was first that depressed them.
"Well, that's over with," I said firmly. "Leave him alone unless he feels like starting something."
"Does he know who he can start with?" June asked. Fay and I turned to look the question at the twins.
"I think he knew it was me..." each said, but not firmly.
We climbed out to start the morning rituals. Bruce stepped out, remarkably happier than we'd seen him in a while. The twins spread apart on the table to see if he behaved any differently towards them.
He just smiled a very wide smile and reached out to stroke May and Pat's heads once. Then he giggled and went to fix breakfast. Two steps from the table, he turned to greet the rest of us a good morning.
"I don't believe it," Fay muttered, through a return smile and wave.
"Yep, men are men," I agreed, "no matter their species."
"What's wrong?" June asked. A place setting away, the twins flashed their own smiles and looked needles at each other.
"I guess even giant men like a good twin-fantasy."
- 4
- 5
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.A Traveling Show