Free The Lampo Circus by Alexandra Adornetto Page A

spilled over from their containers squelched underfoot and made the ground slippery and pungent.
    The children hardly had time to wonder at all this before Oslo leapt from Fiend’s back andmanned the catapult. At a signal from him, the pack of dogs that had accompanied the group formed a circle around them to prevent escape. The children soon learned that the globes were not Christmas decorations or equipment for the sport of shot put as they had secretly hoped, but in fact ammunition made up of compost. Oslo soon decided to discard the catapult altogether and, seizing armfuls of the smelly spheres, repeatedly pelted his stunned troops.
    Imagine being caught in a thunderstorm where hailstones have been substituted by mouldy tomatoes, decaying apple cores and scraps of last night’s pork belly meal. I know I’d take the hailstones every time.
    The children did their best to dodge the flying missiles and, being quick on their feet and familiar with ball games, initially did not do too badly. It was only when they accidentally tripped over one another and landed on their backsides that they found themselves in trouble. Oslo then rained the balls down on them so fast it was not easy to get back on their feet. Even Finn and Fennel with their acrobatic skills had trouble navigating their way around the slushy,slippery mess. If at any time a child strayed out of Oslo’s range, the dogs, mouths foaming, sprang up and forced them back into the fray.
    Some of the younger children ran to Milli. ‘Is this part of the game?’ they asked.
    Milli hastily assured them that it was while trying to dodge a ball heading straight for her head. Off they went, filled with renewed determination at the thought of prizes.
    It was Ernest who surprised everyone by his behaviour when a fishtail slipped down his tunic and he abandoned all dignity, leaping around and squealing at the top of his lungs. The little ones giggled with the satisfaction of having already eliminated one competitor.
    When the blitz ended, as Oslo was finally out of breath, no child had been spared. They removed sausage casings from their tunics, which were snaffled up by the dogs, and quietly picked eggshells from their hair. Oslo shook his head and made no attempt to conceal his scorn.
    ‘Welcome to rock-dodging class, weaklings, which, by the way, you have just failed. I can see we have work to do.’
    The rest of the morning passed with Oslo demonstrating how he could fight off an onslaught of compost balls by twisting his body, performing back flips and even catching some between his teeth. He explained that being struck by one in battle meant being reared [rendered] unconscious for a good twenty minutes due to the overpowering odour. For, he assured them, the ammunition employed in warfare would not be vegetable-based.
    After Oslo had completed his demonstration, it was the children’s turn to pair off and try it for themselves. They practised aiming between their partner’s eyes, as instructed by Oslo. He informed them that this was known as the ‘bull’s-eye’, made famous by a young man who had managed to defeat a giant armed only with a slingshot and a small rock. Oslo also boasted that he and this young man shared the same gene pool as he happened to be an ancestor on his mother’s side.
    During rock-dodging class, the gladiator trumpeted useless directions such as:’ somersault’, ‘duck’, ‘split’ and ‘dislocate shoulder’. His expectation was that they could learn somethingnew simply by being told once how to do it. Failure frustrated him and he became increasingly fractious.
    ‘We’re only beginners,’ Milli reminded him.
    ‘Beginners are winners!’ Oslo boomed. ‘Except you beginners are bunny rabbits and I will not tolerate rabbits in my school! Now pull yourselves together and be lions!’
    Eventually, the children learned to accept Oslo’s unconventional teaching methods and tried to aggravate him as little as possible. Relief was