Waiting for Bozzo

The audience roared with laughter. Backstage, Squeak sat at the makeup table, head bowed, hands clasped around the back of his neck so he didn't mess his white face paint. Applause rippled from behind the curtains. Pansy entered from the side with a small brown dachshund in a wheelchair, chuckling to himself and dabbing the sweat from his brow.

"They're warmed up. Just give me five minutes."

"I don't know if we can do it, Pansy," Squeak muttered. "I mean, just the two of us?"

Pansy started undressing. "What is it about 'more money' that you don't understand? Nobody will find out, trust me." He slipped on his multi-coloured, baggy costume, enormous black shoes, and tanned leather mask with its elongated nose.

Squeak had been ready for fifteen minutes. He stood up slowly. "Ready?"

"Born ready."

A laptop glowed on a chair next to the dressing table. Squeak pressed a button, and a carnivalesque interlude played. He lifted the prop boulder and placed it on stage left, then moved the tree into position on the right. He took a seat under it as the interlude ended and Pansy pulled the curtains, leaving him alone to face the glares of the lights and the audience.

Pansy entered from stage left, riding a tiny bicycle and stroking his nose to chuckles from the audience. "Howdy, Squeak!"

"Well, hello. I've not seen you in a while."

"No, but I do have more than one wile!"

What a shit line, Squeak thought, and not for the first time. Of course, the audience stared.

"Get it? A while? Wile?" Pansy said as he disembarked the bicycle. He winked at the audience, then yanked the nose on his mask so it made a goose-like honk. A few laughs rippled across the theatre.

"So," Squeak said, sticking to his lines. "What brings you here?"

"Well, I robbed a convenience store...with this!" He whipped out a black revolver, pointed it at the front row and pulled the trigger. The deafening bang led to cries from the crowd.

"Pansy!" Squeak groaned. He always winced at that part. Not Pansy. He loved the reactions when people realised the bang had been his enormous shoe on the stage and the revolver shot out a flag that said "Bang!" A few relieved murmurs and a few anxious, stilted laughs...

"Works every time!" Pansy said and threw the revolver behind him. "Anyways, what brings you to this place of disrepute?"

"I'm waiting for Bozzo," Squeak replied. A little deflated, but he was not sure if this was intentional or not.

"Oh, where are you two going?"

"There's work up north. A circus is looking for clowns. Bozzo said he would come and pick me up at the spot between a boulder and a tree."

"I once shot a man up north."

"Why?"

"Just to watch him die."

Silence. Pansy waited. Squeak waited, wondering. When Pansy felt he had waited long enough, he honked his nose. "Not!" A mixture of groans and laughs.

"You're so violent," Squeak said. "Violence is rife today."

Pansy made sobbing noises. "Fine, fine. I will return to the store and return what I stole."

"No, you idiot! The police will be there by now. What are you, stupid?" The last line, he said with more emphasis than he usually did.

"So, what must I do?"

"Maybe just sit here with me, and we'll wait for Bozzo. Bozzo will help you, I'm sure. You can lay low for a while."

From the side of the stage, there came a high-pitched screeching sound. The dachshund, sitting on a wheelchair with a broken back leg, inched across the stage, the wheels squealing. The audience laughed, and some of them cooed at the poor dog. As it had been trained to do for the last three years, the dog approached Squeak.

"Oh, hello Dog. Is that a note stuck to your collar?"

"A note stuck to the collar, how trite."

Squeak took the note and the dog continued on its path off-stage. There were hysterical giggles at the squeaking of the dog's wheel.

"What does the note say, Squeak?"

"It's from Bozzo. He said he's been delayed and he'll be coming tomorrow instead."

A pause and then Pansy wandered off-stage left. He pulled the curtains closed on Squeak. End of Act I.

"See? That wasn't so bad."

The two clowns sipped glasses of water during the five-minute break.

"Suppose it was," Squeak sighed. "Just a bit strange, just the two of us. The dog's been good." He tossed a treat to the dachshund, who lapped it up with glee.

"Well, suppose he is our dog now."

The interlude ended, and Act II began. Again, the audience applauded as the curtains parted, and they found the stage empty. Squeak wandered on, as per his cue, looking around, somewhat dazed, and then sat under the tree. They had removed more of the leaves off the tree during the break.

Pansy entered from stage left.

"Well, well, well. I thought I might find you here. How was your night?"

"Who are you?"

"Who am I? Who am I?" Pansy placed more emphasis on each successive word, then turned to the audience. "I am Pansy, the greatest clown in the world!" He honked his nose and did a little jig.

"Do I know you?" Squeak asked.

"We've been friends for a long time. We've been clowns for even longer. It's all we know."

"Yeah, sure."

Pansy glared at him. That wasn't the line.

"Is it?" Squeak corrected. "Is it?" He repeated it, for he had learned at clown school that it was best to lean into mistakes, as they can and do happen.

"Why, yes it is."

"But I don't know who I am?"

"You're Squeak, the world's second best clown." Honk. Jig. The audience laughed.

"Am I? I just have your word. Maybe I am the best, and you're lying to me."

"No, you are actually the worst." Honk. Jig. More laughter.

That wasn't the line, Squeak thought, growling at Pansy. Pansy winked at him, then jigged again at the audience.

"But you can be with the best, if you come with me!" he sang. He danced his merry little jig across the stage, then bounced off the walls and fell on his face. The audience burst out laughing. Squeak was supposed to laugh as well, but he just stared, fury rising. Pansy hadn't noticed.

Squeak stuck with his original line. "I can't go anywhere, I think I'm waiting for Bozzo."

"You don't remember who you are, but THAT you remember? What's so great about Bozzo anyway?"

"He's funnier than you."

Pansy gaped at him. "W-What?"

"I said he's funnier than you."

Pansy’s dark eyes burned through him. He looked at the audience, then honked his nose.

"Is he funnier than a guy who went back to the convenience store he robbed yesterday?" Admittedly, a nice save.

"What convenience store?" Squeak said.

"I told you yesterday. I robbed a convenience store. You told me not to go back. Well, I went back there. I saw someone who recognised me."

"And?"

"Oh, don't you worry? They won't be a problem anymore." Honk.

The dog arrived a second time to more laughter. Squeak read the note after the dog had wheeled off stage to more snickers.

"What does it say?"

"It says Bozzo is dead. His car exploded on the way here."

The two clowns stared at each other. Pansy walked off-stage, leaving Squeak alone for a minute. Then, the curtains closed.

"What the fuck was that?" Pansy snarled during the break. "You tried to fuck things up."

"I forgot my line. You did the same thing."

"That's not the point. I do it because I can and because it works."

No, you do it because you copied it from someone else, Squeak thought. "Whatever. I've decided this is the last show. I'm done."

"What do you mean you're done? This is all you've ever done, how you've ever made money. You need me."

"I don't need your terrible writing. Look, the third act doesn’t even make sense."

"I'm not having this argument now. You better get out there and finish the play…"

"Or else?"

"Or else you'll end up like him.”

Squeak shuddered. He had always been slightly wary of Pansy, ever since they first started performing with each other. Now that he had seen what he was capable of...

He just wanted to go. He looked to the exit, but he also couldn't leave the audience hanging. He was still a performer.

The interlude ended. He got into his position, the same position he had occupied for decades. The curtains opened, and Act III began, the same way it always began, with him sitting at the boulder, talking to himself.

"Just who am I? Do I have a father? A mother? A sister or brother, or a mixture of the two? Aunts, uncles, cousins…friends? Is there someone who calls me friend?"

He stood up and walked towards the edge of the stage. "I am waiting for Bozzo. That is all I know. I just don't know why."

A bicycle bell rung and, as he always did, Pansy rolled in on a tiny unicycle, squeezing the bicycle bell in his hand. He winked at the audience as he did so.

"Your saviour is here!" he said sing-song. The unicycle toppled, and he fell over. He tried to get up but then he had an evident limp.

"Oh, you again," Squeak sighed, off-script.

Pansy glared at him but then laughed. "I had a shootout with the police." So I guess we're improvising about real-life...

"Oh, you did?" Squeak said, again off-script.

"Yeah, after I robbed a convenience store."

"Did you kill anyone?"

"Nope, I've never killed anyone in my life."

"Really?"

Pansy stared at him. "Yes. Really." He honked his nose and winked. There were a few laughs.

"Do you know what happened to Bozzo, then?"

"Who's this Bozzo?" Pansy said, off-script.

"He's who I'm waiting for."

"Don't know him."

Squeak was silent for a moment, and then he roared his next line. "You killed him, didn’t you?!"

Pansy remained quiet. Then, he honked his nose. "Sure, I killed him." He did another jig, and the audience laughed, perhaps a bit uneasily.

"And please tell us all why you killed him," Squeak said, motioning to the audience.

"Because he couldn't do this!" Pansy began a tap dance, his feet clicking on the stage, the black shoes bouncing up and down. He did this for a minute straight and finished with a flourish. The audience applauded.

"You think you're funny," Squeak hissed at him. "I'm done,” he whispered, and started wiping his face paint.

"You're done when I say you're done," Pansy growled.

There were a few audible whispers as the silence between the two clowns grew. Suddenly, the back doors of the auditorium flung open with a bang. A hulking figure staggered in, his clown costume tattered, a huge red nose with a hole on his face, and hauling an enormous axe. Squeak whimpered.

"Bozzo?!" Pansy screamed.

"You little shit," Bozzo growled as he stalked down the aisle towards the stage. "You two thought you could kick me out of my own show, the show I created, the show I put together. And then you," he roared, pointing the axe at Pansy. "You tried to kill me!"

There were a few murmurs from the audience. They watched Bozzo intently.

"No, no," Pansy stammered as Bozzo walked up the stage steps. "No, everyone!" He cried out to the audience. "Everyone, this isn't real!" He took off the mask and dropped it onto the stage, but then he accidentally stepped on it and it made a honk. The audience laughed.

"No, Bozzo, stop!"

Bozzo lifted the axe high, brought it down with sickening force and plunged it into Pansy's shoulder. It made a thunk as if it were going into a slab of meat. Blood sprayed out. Squeak watched with gawping horror as Bozzo continued hacking pieces of flesh from his partner with the axe. When Bozzo had finished turning Pansy into a bloody, minced corpse, he whirled on Squeak with rage in his demonic eyes and raging clown face.

"You're next!"

Squeak bolted off-stage screaming to utter silence from the audience.