Free The Bear in a Muddy Tutu by Cole Alpaugh Page A

window , directly overlook ing the ruckus below , was nearly struck by one of the darting bottle rockets . Acapulco pushed the window open a few inches to allow sounds into the s ilent hallway . The smell was wonderful, like fresh hay and warm cotton candy. The man who had climbed into the mouth of the cannon would have made a fine Mexican wrestler, Acapulco thought.
    The last two bottle rock et s set off in the parking lot to the right of the cannon exploded over the heads of a flock of seagulls that had surrounded a n overflowing dumpster . Acapulco watched t he flock r i se in unison, squawking and complaining, heading east toward the ocean where they could safely circle over the water until the coast was clear.
    Not two second s into their escape attempt came another, much bigger explosion directly in their path . T he flock scattered as one of the humans suddenly took flight. This human was a flash of blue and red, with just one big red wing trailing behind. M uch of the flock was able to avoid the flying human, but several took a direct hit, themselves exploding into big white and gray puffs of feathers.
    The crowd seemed to marvel at this part of the show and began to clap and cheer even harder. H ow many of them had ever witnessed a human cannonball, let alone the part where the performer blasted his way through a flock of exploding birds ? It was certainly new to Acapulco, although he also sensed something might have gone wrong.
    The human cannonball was tumbling in midair over the parking lot , waving his arms wildly, getting them tangled in his cape. Pin-wheeling and tumbling were not terribly aerodynamic, Acapulco guessed, which probably contributed to the human cannonball’s failure to reach his net .
    T wo old men d ropped to the pavement just as the human cannonball passed over their heads. The man in the funny blue helmet bounced once and slammed into the tiger cage .
    Both old men looked relieved not to immediately find anything that seemed serious ly damaged, as they patted their bodies, each lifting to one elbow . Not as comforting , perhaps, was the angry roar that came from directly behind where they lay. The roar silenced the screaming crowd. T he onlookers wanted to believe it was all part of the show , that a brave tiger tamer was waiting in the wings, about to crack his long whip as he haughtily marched out over the exploded prop birds and cringing old men.
    This was a show!
    No whips or wood en chairs in its face, the tiger let out what might have been the greatest roar of its life , letting every beast within earshot know he was king of this paved jungle. The tiny gray hairs on the back of Acapulco’s neck stood at attention. He crossed himself with the hand holding the bottle of Windex .
    The tiger dropped to his haunches, zeroing in on the two feeble humans directly in front of him. His jaw slowly dropped open and s aliva seeped forth in the form of two thin strands glistening in the spotlight . The tiger’s ears turned forward and twitched ; o ne paw reached in slow motion, followed by the other. It prepared for the kill.
    The two old men cr aned wrinkled necks to look over their shoulders ; then both instantly looked away , as if bracing for impact. T he tiger leaped forward as if jolted by electricity, pounc ing on their bodies simultaneously , crushing them so fast that neither could muster one last pathetic scream.
    The tiger looked impossibly heavy, and bit and bit, and both men were surely dead before the single shot rang out and stopped all the biting. The sounds of tearing flesh and splintering bones were replaced by the screams and pounding steps of retreating circus goers as they r an away from the gory scene in the parking lot—the dead tiger, the two mangled corpses , and the crum p led human cannonball.
    T he fat man who had nearly tram p led Acapulco’s vacuum cleaner up on the fourteenth floor earlier was the only live person not running away . He was boldly stepping forward,