skit #50: Slippy Sally

Slippy Sally knew it all had been used before.

The former-Yugoslavian army pawned surplus military equipment to any bidder. Once high-quality, now frayed, the hemp ropes sold quickly. The buying shepherd tethered his flock for sheering and slaughter. The gentle lambs put no stress on the rope, bleating for the sake of bleating. The sheep-in-the-know (of which there were few, by nature of their education) would buck and flail when the noose was slipped around their necks, be it for sheering or slaughter. One January, liberated on dandelion wine, the shepherd emancipated a third of his flock along with half his rope. Though he deeply regretted his lapse into altruism the next day, he should know the Belgrade circus made fine use of his rope.

The fly bar was made from hickory. The ringmaster fashioned it out of an old walking stick, the one he wielded to discipline the misbehaving lions and the misbalancing bears. A savage chronicle was nicked into its length with tooth marks and contusions. The weatherproofing had flaked off, though leaving its surface smooth for callused hands to grasp, it was varnished with a palpable malice that made Slippy Sally wince. When she swings, she must cling for her life to this weapon. Something so brutal shan't be used for something so graceful.

Flippy Filipe extended his fingers, the mendacious little fingers that fondled her after Sundays' shows and other circus nymphs the remaining days. Of course she saw the lout in congress with the bearded lady, their mustaches and pubes amorously braided behind the elephants' stall. The fink swore to Sally that love-cove was theirs and theirs alone. She did not mind the other women; In fact, they knew his schedule: the knife thrower before Sally, the painted lady after. He acted so imperceivably sly as to be insulting. All the ladies gossiped about his inverted prick, clucking and cackling in the women's trailer. 'No wonder his willy seeks freaks like us,' squeaked Lilliputian Lilly. There, on the trapeze, his extended hands gesticulating, 'Trust me!'

The trapeze came and went in the predictable parabolas all acrobats expect, tracing the fatalistic movements of a pendulum. Somewhere, the trapeze could be caught. Elsewhere, there was only air. Sally swung. The crowd groaned when she let go.

There are three things that could happen:

Slippy Sally released and missed the rope, missed the flybar, missed Filipe's mendacious little fingers. She died, unable cope with the flaws of the trapeze. The crowd stopped groaning, mourned, and remembered her as a foolish girl.

Slippy Sally released and caught Filipe's mendacious little fingers. The trapezist exists only in grace, immune to flaws. That night, the crowd believed in perfection.

Slippy Sally released and missed the rope, missed the flybar, missed Filipe's mendacious little fingers, missed the promise of descent, missed the deadly ground. She had trained to intercept the trapeze, but there are things to catch beyond flaws and flawlessness.