Free Coney by Amram Ducovny Page A

dazzled his eyes with a million light bulbs, illuminating The Creation, Pompeii, gondolas floating by The Doge’s Palace in Venice, and Captain Jack Bonavita, the bravest lion tamer ever, who lost two fingers and then his right arm, but always returned to the cage to stare down rogue beasts.
    Dismounting, he carried the bike up the wooden steps of number 39, pressed the black tit bell and, hearing no ring, tried the door, which scraped the floor as it gave way. He wheeled the bike toward a smell of cooked cabbage and the murmur of conversation.
    â€œ
Merde
,” a woman’s voice chastised, “you bring tires with ze shit of
chien
in ze house.”
    The speaker was Queen Fifi, the fat lady at a sideshow in Coney’s Bowery section. Her eyes, nose and lips were tiny islands in a rippling sea of flesh. Yet, rosy coloring on delicate white cheeks evoked Renaissance cherubs. A golden cardboard tiara indented her curly blond hair.
    The queen, overflowing a piano bench at the head of a long oblong table, presided over a court of freaks whom Harry recognized from the large posters that lined the Bowery:
    Jamie,
the boy with two mouths
, who, lacking makeup, presented a simple hole in his cheek. Olga,
the world’s ugliest woman
, whose thickened face and massive shoulders suggested a punch-drunk boxer. Lohu and Mohu, the Japanese Siamese twins, seated in one chair, eating with their outside hands. Jo-Jo,
the dog-faced boy
, a dispirited beagle.
    Blue Man, skin glowing as if phosphorescent. Albert-Alberta,
the half-man, half-woman
, bereft of sweater bulges, and Otto,
the strongman
, whose shaved bullet head, bull neck, pendulous purplish lips and filed teeth were, in this company, havens of human familiarity.
    Otto strode toward Harry, arms extended, fingers curled to strangle.
    â€œYou come see freaks?
Ach
, I show you.”
    Harry wheeled his bike between them.
    â€œWoody!” he shouted.
    Otto stopped.
    â€œVoody?”
    â€œThe slips.”
    â€œ Ach
, now a boy he sends. You hear Fifi, a boy.”
    â€œI like boys,” Fifi said, tilting her massive head at Harry. “I like them same like you, Otto.”
    The diners laughed. The Siamese twins turned toward each other. Harry wondered if they used each other as a mirror. Schnozz said that some Siamese twins were fakes: regular twins yoked together in a tight corset. He scanned Lohu and Mohu, searching for a clue in their identical brown suits, white shirts and green plaid ties.
    â€œNice’ boys not stare,” Fifi said. “How is your name?”
    â€œHarry.”
    â€œâ€™Arry is most pleasurable name. Sit wiz us, ’Arry. We like nice visitor.”
    Otto placed a chair next to his.
    â€œNo, Otto,” Fifi said, waggling her index finger, “no under-ze table
dalliance
. Between Albert-Alberta and me will be his place.”
    Seated, Harry fought a terrible urge to stare. He bowed his head as if partaking in a solemn ceremony.
    â€œYoung boy,” Olga bass voice boomed, “ven I vass ah beauty I vass ballerina. Nijinsky loffed me. All Moskva and St. Petersburg vass at my feets. Ven is vite nights, I dance in streets. Tsar and tsarina chav see me, invite me to Vinter Palace. Den”—she punched her shoulder—“den dis.”
    Fifi lip-farted.
    â€œNijinsky, tsar, hah. Ven you vass ah beauty,” Fifi mimicked, “you be a kootch dancer. You slide on ze
fesse
on ze stage and push out ping pong ball from ze
trou
, one after one. One is told zat at zat you ze best. Zoot! like from a cannon. Also lights in zere for ze shining
con
.”
    Olga wiped her lips delicately with a food-soiled paper napkin.
    â€œI not answer fot, degenerate peasant. Vonce I vass ah beauty. Vat vass you effer, but fot stink.”
    Blue Man stood up and crashed his fist onto the table, rattling plates.
    â€œI not understand,” he shouted. “In Prague circus we did not speak so terrible