InsaneJournal

Current mood:	pensive
Current music:	Metal Gear Solid 3--Snake Eater
Entry tags:	snark

you're stiiiiiill in a dreaaaaam, snake eaaaater
I have recurring dream landscapes, including a shopping district. The other night, I noticed a Darren Shan-themed coffee shop/ice cream parlor run by fangirls had established itself in it. I'm starting to worry about the long-term effects of this project.

But, of course, the show must go on. And before any show, the performers must be fed. After Evra's snake has been well-milked, the two bring raw meat to the wolfman, who's kept permanently caged to keep him from eating babies and also peeing on the good rug.


"Isn't it cruel to keep him chained up?" I asked, throwing him another slice of meat.

"If we didn't, he'd run free and kill people. The mix of human and wolf blood has driven him mad. He
wouldn't just kill when he was hungry; if he was free, he'd murder all the time."

"Isn't there a cure?" I asked, feeling sorry for him.

"There isn't a cure because it isn't a disease," Evra explained. "This isn't something he caught, it's how he
was born. This is what he is."

"How did it happen?" I asked.

Evra looked at me seriously. "Do you really want to know?"


Darren: ...yes?
Evra: Look, it's not something we talk about. There was vodka and a rasher of bacon in a very unfortunate place and things kind of escalated from there.

Seriously, are they fucking over biology again or did they just handwave away a bestiality reference or both? How the hell did this get past the editors? Why do I get the uneasy feeling bistromath was involved? Unfortunately, Darren decides he doesn't really want the details, so I guess we'll never know.

They wander about the camp doing odd jobs, peeling freak potatoes, repairing freak cars, painting the roof of a van with freak paint, and walking a freak dog. Freakily. ...okay yeah they're just ordinary odd jobs, thrilling. They do bring Rhamus Twobellies a bag of broken glass for lunch, which makes me think of The Enigma and wish I was watching the freakshow episode of X-Files instead of reading this shit. In between jobs, they swap life stories.


Evra had been born to ordinary parents. They were horrified when they saw him. They abandoned him
at an orphanage, where he stayed until an evil circus owner bought him at the age of four.


Evil Circus Owner: Excuse me, I would like to buy a child, preferably of a freakish nature.
Orphanage Owner: We do not sell children here, sir. Adoption is a complex governmental process used to transfer legal guardianship to parents who have been thoroughly investigated and deemed suitable for the role. You, on the other hand, are visibly drunk and haven't stopped twirling your mustache and cackling once since you came in here.
Evil Circus Owner: Oh, come on, you must have a dumpster I can rummage through or something.
Orphanage Owner: Well, the Biological Impossibilities Box is getting a little crowded...
Evil Circus Owner: Five bucks and whatever's left in this bottle?
Orphanage Owner: Throw in half your mustache and we have a deal.

Evra was stuck in a glass cage being poked and laughed at for seven years before Mr. Tall showed up, killed off his owner, and rescued him. I had this exact same idea for a plot once...specifically, when I was thirteen. Considering it was an early H/C fantasy, I'm feeling uncomfortable about the fetish content...again.


"Do you want to see something amazing?" he finally said, snapping out of his thoughtful mood.

"Sure," I said.

He turned to face me, then stuck out his tongue and pushed it up over his lip and right up his nose!

"Ewww! Gross!" I yelled delightedly.

He pulled the tongue back and grinned. "I've got the longest tongue in the world," he said. "If my nose
were big enough, I could poke my tongue all the way to the top, down my throat, and back out my
mouth again."


...although not nearly as uncomfortable as I feel now.


"I don't have any snot," Evra said.

"What? No snot?"

"It's true," he said. "My nose is different from yours. There's no snot or dirt or hairs. My nostrils are the
cleanest part of my whole body."

"What does it taste like?" I asked.

"Lick my snake's belly and you'll find out," he replied. "It's the same taste as that."

I laughed and said I wasn't that interested!


Evra: Oh, you don't want to...that...that's cool, I just thought you...you know, since you don't have a problem milking it...
Darren: I have standards, honey. Take me out to dinner and then we can talk.
Evra: Okay, I still have to break up with my old boyfriend anyway.
Big Boss: Hey...this isn't a reticulated python at all!

A few days go by, and Darren's powers start dulling since he still hasn't had any human blood. Darren, didn't you almost rape devour your sister the last time you did this? Are you seriously that incapable of learning? ...right, right, who am I talking to...


I watched the boy in the bushes. He was trying hard not to be seen, but to someone with my powers —
fading though they were — he was as obvious as an elephant. I was curious to know what he was doing,
so I turned to Evra and said, "Let's have fun."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Lean in and I'll tell you."

I whispered my plan in his ear. He grinned and nodded, then stood and pretended to yawn.

"I'm leaving, Darren," he said. "See you later."

"See you, Evra," I replied loudly. I waited until he was gone, then stood and walked back to the camp
myself.

When I was out of sight of the boy in the bushes, I went back, using the vans and tents to hide my
movements. I walked about a hundred yards to the left, then crept forward until I could see the boy and
sneaked toward him.

I stopped ten yards away. I was a little behind him, so he couldn't see me. His eyes were still glued to
the camp. I looked over his head and saw Evra, who was even closer than I was. He made an "okay"
sign with his thumb and index finger.





"Ohh-ohh-ohh," I snorted, like a gorilla.

"I'm not afraid," the boy said, edging backward. "You're just somebody playing a mean trick."

"Eee-ee-ee-ee-ee," Evra screeched.

I shook a branch, Evra rattled a bush, then I tossed a stone into the area just ahead of the boy. His head
was spinning around like a puppet's, darting all over the place. He didn't know whether it would be safer
to run or stay.

"Look, I don't know who you are," he began, "but I'm —"

Evra snuck up behind him and now, as the boy spoke, stuck out his extra-long tongue and ran it over the
boy's neck, making a hissing snake noise.

That was enough for the boy. He screamed and ran for his life.




Potential rape defused (kind of), the boy hauls ass until he faceplants into tall grass and disappears. When he doesn't reappear, the boys go after them, only to be shoved from behind by the kid. Apparently he was only pretending to be scared by their crazy mini-Pedobear antics the entire time. Wait, does that means he totally wanted it? In any case, the three share a hearty laugh.


"I suppose you think this is funny," I snarled. He nodded silently. "Well, I've got news for you," I said,
stepping closer, putting on the meanest face I could. I paused menacingly, then burst into a smile. "It is!"


Darren: :D
Boy: :|
Darren: :D
Boy: :|
Darren: :D
Boy: okay yeah you guys are really lame. I'm going home. Don't follow me.
Darren: :< ?
Evra: This happens to you a lot, doesn't it, Darren.
Darren: I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED.

Kid's name turns out to be Sam Grest, and the two welcome him in as a friend. To save the reader all that troublesome "making character judgements" and "predicting plot developments" business, Darren immediately states as the chapter-ender that while Sam did become his friend, "by the time the Cirque Du Freak moved on, I was wishing with all my heart that I'd never even heard his name." Gee, that's really all I've ever wanted in a series--a plot that spoils itself. Book 12 probably starts off with the line "The butler did it" and the instructions to throw the book aside and save yourself the trouble.

Sam quickly outs himself as a kid of the hippies 'cause, like, his parents think "children should be free to express their individuality" and junk, and that "school's a despotic system of indoctrination, designed to crush the spirit and stamp out creativity", and while it's not stated as such, probably "the brown acid wasn't that bad, maaaaan, not really". Far out, dudes. He also has two younger brothers, a baby sister, three dogs, five cats, a turtle, and a tank full of tropical fish, because the book is suddenly a first-grader's "ALL ABOUT ME!" paper. He also loves pickled onions, which had better be a plot point 'cause wtf. He asks what kind of show they're running, hoping the answer is "lezzie".


"We're masters of the macabre," Evra said. "Agents of mutations. Lords of the surreal." He was
speaking like that to show he could match Sam's big vocabulary. I wish I could have spouted a few
smarty-pants sentences, but I'd never been good with words.


Darren: WE MAKE THE SCARY WITH DUDES WHAT GOT TEETH AND THEN PEOPLES GO YAAAAAAAY AND ARMS FALL OFF.
Sam: what
Darren: AND THEN MR. CREPSLEY HAS ME DO THE SPECIAL SHOW WITH THE FISHNETS IN OUR PLACE WHERE WE KEEP THE BEDS.
Sam: ...what.


"A freak show?" His jaw dropped open and a piece of pickled onion fell out. I had to move quickly to
dodge it. "Two-headed men and weirdos like that?"

"Sort of," I said, "but our performers are magical, wonderful artists, not just people who look different."

"Cool!" He glanced at Evra. "Of course, I could see from the start that you were dermatologically
challenged," — he was talking about Evra's skin (I looked the word up in a dictionary later) — "but I had
no idea there might be other members like you among your company."

He looked over toward the camp, eyes bright with curiosity. "This is most fascinating." He sighed. "What
other bizarre examples of the human form do your numbers include?"


Darren: THESE FREAKS ARE SPECIAL! WE DIDN'T MAKE THESE FREAKS FOR THE LIKES OF YOU!
Sam: 'scuse me I'm just gonna flip-flop back and forth between an average ten-year-old and a stereotypical brainy kid at a moment's notice now, it's a condition
Evra: I'm not challenged, I'm just bad at the book-learnin' :<

Evra goes through the list of freaks and their descriptions. Instead of explaining why their biology is impossible every five minutes like a really smart kid would do, Sam listens in excitement and fascination, then begs to join the circus after he's done, claiming his parents say travel broadens the mind and they wouldn't care. Evra refuses, stating that he's too young. God, it's about time someone said that about one of the boys in this series...


"It's not fair," he grumbled. "People always say 'when you're older.' Where would the world be if Alexander the Great had waited until he was older? And how about Joan of Arc? If she'd waited until
she was older, the English might have conquered and colonized France. Who decides when someone's
old enough to make decisions for himself? It should come down to the individual."


...author, what are you trying to say here, exactly?


He ranted on for a while longer, complaining about adults and the "corrupt frigging system" and about the
time being ripe for a young people's revolution. It was like listening to a crazy politician on TV.
"If a kid wants to open a candy factory, let him open one," Sam stormed. "If he wants to become a
football star, fine. If he wants to be an explorer and set off for strange, cannibal-populated islands, okay!
We're the slaves of the modern generation. We're —"
"Sam," Evra interrupted. "Do you want to come see my snake?"
Sam broke out into a smile. "Do I?" he yelled. "I thought you'd never ask. C'mon, let's go."


*sigh* Never mind, just...never mind.


Sam thought the snake was the coolest thing he'd ever seen. He wasn't at all scared and didn't hesitate to
wrap her around his neck like a scarf.


Evra: CONSTRICTOR! CONSTRICTOR!
Sam: MY EYEBALLS TASTE LIKE EXPLODING

The two show him around the rest of the circus after showing him the snake, letting him watch a couple of the freaks practicing their acts. Darren notes that he would have showed him some of Madam Octa's tricks, but the lack of human blood is making him anemic and he doesn't want to lose his concentration with her and end up with another Mr. Corpsey incident. HOLY HELL, HE CAN ACTUALLY BE TAUGHT. On the other hand, we're still on a crash course with Planet Rape- Devour-a-Child, so it's a hollow victory.

As the sky darkens, the two older boys tell Sam to go home, but the little barnacle clings to their legs, wanting more of the heady potato-peeling life that he's caught a tantalizing glimpse of. Evra manages to change his mind off by saying they have to give the wolfman a bath and loss of limbs might be involved, and Darren tells him he can come back tomorrow. After he leaves, Evra briefly discusses why he couldn't fit in, and that while it isn't for many people, his place is in the Cirque. Awww, home is where the heatlamp is.

Then, out of nowhere, the gay midget prostitutes appear, bearing torches. ...yeah, try that sentence out of context in polite company. Apparently they keep to themselves and leave the show periodically, and have just returned, bringing with them a sinister guest...


The blue-hooded people passed by silently. As the mysterious thirteenth person approached, I noticed
he was dressed differently from the others. He wasn't very tall; he just looked big in comparison to the
blue-hoods. He had short white hair, a thick pair of glasses, a sharp yellow suit, and long green rubber
boots. He was pretty fat and walked with a weird waddle.

He smiled pleasantly at us as he passed. I smiled back, but Evra looked paralyzed, unable to move the
muscles in his mouth.

The blue-hoods and the man with the torch walked farther into the campsite, all the way to the back,
where they found a large clear spot. Then the blue-hoods began putting up a tent — they must have been
carrying the equipment underneath their capes — while the larger man headed for Mr. Tall's van.

I studied Evra. He was shaking all over, and even though his face could never turn white — because of
its natural color — it was paler than it had ever been before.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He shook his head silently, unable to reply.

"What is it? Why are you so scared? Who was that man?"

"He … It …" Evra cleared his throat and took a deep breath. When he spoke, it was in a low, trembling
voice, filled with sheer terror.

"That was Mr. Tiny," he said, and I couldn't get any more out of him for a long time after that.


Author: Ah, that was a good lunch break. Back to the old grind...wha? What the hell is this? I didn't write...LYYYYYNCH!
David Lynch: ho ho ho.

Next time: That gum you like is going to come back in style...