Jul 28, 2015
splitribs
“Come fer the show ‘ave ye, miss? T’aint quite time t’ raise the curtain just yet.”
As the glow of day receded into the blue-dust of twilight, the Noah’s Ark Circus had begun to hum with the murmurs of milling performers. The buzz of gas-bulbs and spot lights lent a beetle-like drone to the gathering evening, and the occasional throaty chuff of a caged tiger rumbled like distant thunder.
Joker twirled his glass-jeweled baton. “I’d wager ye deserve a prize fer bein’ early.”
“-- Ha! There ye are. A smart bouquet fer a smart little lass.”
