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Let's Learn About How to Join a Circus!
by Colleen AF Venable, Giraffe/Giraffe Wrangler
For as long as I can remember, I wanted to join the circus. As a wee-little wee-thing I used to fantasize about what secret circus abilities I had hiding deep within me. Was I meant to juggle flame-engulfed bowling pins? Was I destined to run on the outside of a giant flame-engulfed human sized hamster wheel? Was I born to invent a new circus sport that combined stupid-human abilities with the engulfing of flames?
Curtain rises:
Why, hello children! I'm the bearded-lady. As you can see I'm a woman with a beard…now, who's got a lighter?
I really tried to learn to juggle. I mastered the art of looking like I was juggling without actually juggling at all, quite similar to the baton-twirling I had mastered just a few years prior, twirling that just consisted of me shaking my wrist left and right until my hand would nearly fall off in a six-year-old' arthritic fit. I never figured out how to use three balls, let alone flaming bowling pins, and I seemed to have an awful habit of closing my eyes during that "DEAR GOD, GRAVITY HAS TAKEN OVER" part…probably not my destiny…but there was always the hamster wheel.
Now human-sized hamster wheels are not the easiest to come by. At age 9 I tried all of my local shops. "Hello, Sir. Do you have any human-sized wheels of death in stock?" One shop owner finally pointed me in the direction of Cosco where a blue aproned man handed me a wheel of goat cheese with a 3 foot radius. Right there, in the middle of Isle 3, I mounted my cheese, only to discover the wheel was hardly made of death, or even a semi-soft blend. I was wearing cheese pants and a broken heart…one a bit more metaphorically than the other.
Left with no other options, I set my sights on commanding my facial hair to grow at abnormal female lengths. Every day I woke up hoping my dreams of sideburns, handlebar staches, and ZZ chin toppers would have some impact on my actual physical being, but despite my 50% Italian blood, no bearded-lady did I become.
I guess I wasn't meant to be in a circus after all.
The End.
What's that?
I can’t end the story like this? It's too depressing? Well, that's life for you. You better get used to it. Not all will wind up happy. Not all will figure out a way to survive doing a job that we actually adore. Not all will be remembered two minutes after we die. Not all will fall in love or even like. Not all of us get to join the circus...
...of course, that doesn't apply to me. I've got a giraffe body and a human head! Fuck-yeah, they accepted me in the circus! Now I just have to start working on the engulfing flame part of the act…
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