Sex and Murder Magazine

By David Price

Ever wonder about those little carnivals. You know, the ones that seem to appear overnight in an open field or abandoned parking lot next to a closed business.

I’m not talking about the big top circus with a nationally known name. They come into a town with advanced billing and ads in the newspaper, maybe even TV and radio. Those outfits plan a year or two ahead. They know exactly where they will be six months later. Everything is planned like they were moving an army to war. And they need to. Their logistics would put most military planners to shame. They know their shit. They are the big time.

No, I’m talking about the little set up that seeks out the small rural community where there ain’t much to do on a weekend night but drink in the local dive or maybe shoot some pool. Teenagers buy beers and go to some drive-in burger joint or to some park or quarry where they can hang out. To these folks, a traveling carnival is a Godsend. For three or four days and nights over a weekend, everyone has a place to go. A chance to see some bright lights, ride a fast track Tilt-a-Whirl or a small Ferris Wheel. Test yourself on some games of chance like the milk bottle baseball throw, ring toss, shooting gallery, and all the old classics. All for a chance to win a kewpie doll or a big stuffed animal.

There is usually an animal or human freak side show. You pay your fifty cents or a buck and are moved like cattle in a pen through a tent to the exhibit which is revealed to you, usually to your disappointment, just as you are herded out the back flap of the tent.

Most of these carnivals have a funhouse of some type. Yokels can’t resist a chance to show their courage. Everyone has to give it a go and then challenge their friends to do it. These funhouse set ups are all really old. Some even include a room of mirrors. There is always a part of the funhouse you’ll never see, never even know it exists. A lot goes on in these private rooms and tunnels. You won’t know about it unless you cause us a problem. Then you may find out in a hurry and you’ll wish to God you were someplace else.

When we come to your town, we don’t plan on coming your way again for years—if ever. We just want as much of your money as we can get in a few days and then we disappear. We try to avoid trouble, especially with the local law. But we do want your money and we have many ways to get it.

Sometimes trouble comes our way. When that happens, we are always ready. Our livelihood depends on milking you gillys for all we can get. Every now and then some local town hero tries to right some perceived wrong or just decides to show off after too many beers.

I don’t care who you are or who you bring with you; you are going to get the short end of the stick. We are willing to go to lengths you would never consider.

You see, we are a different breed than you. We don’t pay taxes, have permanent addresses or give a shit about you, your family, your sports teams, your religion, or your politics. We are travelers who know only our own kind and our own rules.

If you try to impose your will on us, we close ranks on you fast. You don’t stand a chance.

Let me tell you a little story.

I was working a little carnival that traveled the Southwest and Deep South. We were setup outside Brownsville, Texas. At the time we had a couple of animal exhibits. Weird stuff like a two headed dog and a miniature pig with two tails. The dog was long ago dead, probably at birth. We had him in a jar. Of course we never let on that he was dead in our pitch. Even had a painted picture of a rollicking puppy with two heads in our entrance display. Like I told you, we want your money. When you finally see the pup in a jar, it’s too late to complain. You’ve already paid.

The pig on the other hand was alive. We fed him good. We’ve had the pig for a couple of years.

Every show needs some kind of freak to display. It’s one of the biggest draws.

We had a guy who stuck long pins into his face and body. He had permanent holes for entrance and exit just like a pierced ear. Truth is, his act was getting tired. Now we get pierced freaks as customers. He can still top them but the shock value just ain’t there no more.

In this business, you’re always on the lookout for a freak act. Sometimes you buy them from other shows; sometimes a farmer will bring one in. Two headed snakes aren’t that rare. Ours died a year ago so we bottled it. It helps fill out the displays.

What you really want is a living human freak. You don’t see so much of them anymore. In the U.S., freak babies can usually get surgical treatment pretty soon after birth.

It’s usually the poor populations in Asia and Africa where freaks go untreated. Problem is nobody can afford to go searching for them. Even if you found one, you couldn’t get it into the country. No, the freak business is now mainly animals, contortionists or human freaks done with makeup and prosthetics.

Trouble with a “Hollywood Freak” is that the audience is much more sophisticated these days. It’s hard to pull it off and you can never let the audience get too close. Unless you’ve got a first class illusion, it’s best not to even try. Your whole audience can revolt and you end up leaving town early when the word spreads and the townies rag you unmercifully. We don’t do phony acts. At least what we advertise is real even if it is dead.

We were about one day from closing and moving on. This young Mexican kid comes up to me after my pitch for our freak show. I sold tickets to all those crowded around and moved them into the tent and down the walkways. I closed the flap and was cleaning up the ticket stand and counting the money. This kid had been in the crowd but he hadn’t bought a ticket. He lingered after the crowd dispersed.

He came up to me and asked, “Mister, you wanna hire a freak?”

I looked him up and down and knew right away he was a wetback. His English was pretty good. His clothes looked long lived in and he had a smell that comes from many days with no bathing.

I replied, “What are you talking about?”

“My sister was born a freak. We need work to live.”

“Where you from?”

“Santiago.”

“How long you been in the U.S.?”

“Four Days.”

“What’s her deal?”

“She was supposed to be a twin but the other baby got stuck in her belly. She’s got two deformed legs and an arm sticking out of her front.”

“Where is she now?”

“Hiding in that patch of trees. We haven’t eaten in two days. The coyotes who led us across the border, stole all our money.”

“Bring her over to the door at the back of the Funhouse.”

A few minutes later I heard a quiet knock at the door. This little room serves as an office among other things. I push it open and there is the kid with a girl who looked to be 16 or so. I was immediately taken by her beautiful face. She had long thick hair tied in a scarf. Her eyes were deep brown and her face without makeup was God damn stunning.

I looked down to her waist. She was wearing a tee shirt under a zipped sweat shirt. She wore a real big wide skirt that went to the ground. It looked like she was wearing a couple of layers of fluffy petticoats. You know, like the fancy ladies wore in the days of kings and queens. It looked out of place but then you could write it off to some fancy peasant costume for one of those Dias de los Muertos celebrations.

“Come on in.”

They both stepped up into the office. I offered the folding metal chairs next to my desk. They sat. I watched her. She sat slowly but gracefully without drawing attention to herself. When she got seated, she looked like she was pregnant. Her lower belly seemed to bulge up into the skirt.

I said, “You seem like nice people. Your sister is very young and very pretty. This freak show business is a hard life. People aren’t nice and you won’t enjoy the work. You’ll have to be on display and you’ll get a lot of crap from the customers. No one will be allowed to touch you but they say really insulting things. Do you really want to do this?”

“In our village, people were cruel. Our folks threw us out. We decided to cross the border to find work. I can do any kind of labor. My sister will do whatever she has to do to survive. We hope to earn enough money to pay for an operation so she can be normal.”

“What are your names?”

“My name is Luis. My sister’s name is Maria.”

“Maria, do you understand what I have said?”

“Si, Senor. I understand English very well.”

“You’ll have to show me your body. Are you ready for that?”

“Si, Senor.”

She stood and turned her back to me. She worked on her skirt and petticoats until they fell to the floor.

I could see her legs and a cute little ass covered by white panties. Then she turned around.

I felt like I was passing a horrific automobile accident on the side of the road. You know you should just drive by but you have to look. Once I looked at her, my eyes were frozen on her belly. From the area of her navel, a bump like a weird ass rose out. From it hung two legs facing in. They had bone in them but they couldn’t move. They just dangled. The feet were misshapen and looked like lobster claws. They hung to about her mid calf. To the left an arm-like thing protruded just below her ribs. It seemed to have three stubby fingers and one of them had a finger nail.

I couldn’t look away. I was at once revolted and fascinated. The appendages hung down covering her vaginal area. I could see she was able to pull the panties up under the twin.

I told her that for the attraction to work, she would have to show as much as I was seeing, each show.

Luis asked, “How much will we get paid?”

I replied, “For Maria we would charge a special admission. We’d charge two bucks to see her up close. She’ll get half, or a buck a head. We’ll do two shows a night. With a good crowd, she’ll get probably $75 to $150 a night. You can help us set up and do the grunt work. I’ll give you $20 a day but the hours are long. You’ll work as hard and as long as we do. I’ll rent you a little trailer for $10 a day. You’ll have to buy your own food. What do you think?”

They both nodded yes. I stepped out of the trailer and got Bric, our crew boss, and told him the deal. He set them up in the extra trailer we used for storage.

I decided to open her act at our next stop. I introduced them around and they were accepted pretty well. We are a very closed community and outsiders aren’t welcome. Even new hired hands go through a period of being treated coldly. Luis and Maria were accepted from the start.

We didn’t have a real good freak act and we knew Maria might really help us draw. That would mean more money for everyone.

We all brainstormed what to call the act. It got down to Lobster Girl or Octopus Girl. Octopus Girl won. Our resident artist whipped out a painting showing a beautiful girl with seven tentacles coming out of her body.

The poster warned that all who wanted to see to see her would have to sign a waiver accepting the risk of being grabbed by her tentacles. For safety, we warned that they must stay back behind the barrier ten feet away. This was of course to protect Maria from the public and to prevent too close a scrutiny of our illusion.

Who knew how long they’d be with the carnival. Acts come and go but I figured we’d get a run of a few months at least. That meant five to ten grand for the outfit that we’d never have seen otherwise.

We set her up with a deep sea kinda theme. She sat on a little sea shell we made up. We sprayed some blue and green streaks in her hair. Gave her sparkly eyes and real red lips. When she was made up, she was a stunner. We painted her extra limbs so they had a tentacle look which we duplicated on her arms and legs. We used some rubber prosthetics on each hand and foot so they tapered to a point like a tentacle.

She learned how to move her real arms and legs like they were reaching for the audience. We used some clear nylon fish line rigged to her twin’s appendages so she could move them like a puppet.

Even though you could see she didn’t have real suckers on her arms and legs, you still couldn’t get over those things sticking out of her gut. She could move all of those limbs together in a way that was just plain sick.

She was no octopus but folks rarely complained. The freak factor of her show justified the extra admission.

Some guy in the audience always had to make rude remarks. As long as it was just words and no one tried to touch her, we let them have their fun.

Maria and Luis were great people and hard workers around camp. Maria worked in the kitchen and did a lot of chores that weren’t required. Luis was tireless. They endeared themselves to us within a few weeks and that almost never happens in this business. We don’t even call you by your name until you’ve been with us a year or so.

For three months we made our way up the gulf coast of Texas and then headed north up Highway 87.

We’d been having a good run and had made good money in every town. When we hit a town, word quickly spread about Maria and our business in every respect was way up. Things were looking good for our entire season.

We don’t plan too far ahead. Our scout goes out about two or three days before we are about to close and locates our next place. We don’t bother with permits and permission. We set just past a town’s limits so the local cops have no jurisdiction. We’re in and out in 3 to 5 days. If we get hassled, we split fast in the dead of night. There ain’t no forwarding address for little set ups like ours. We’re always a step away from a health inspection or a permit law but if you keep moving, you can pretty much stay ahead of trouble. Unless trouble comes to you. That’s pretty much what happened to us just outside Pinola, Texas.

Our scout found us a good little site in a large open field just off the main drag and about a mile from the city center.

It was the third night since opening. We were drawing good crowds and figured to do two more nights before we moved on.

There was an unusually big crowd for the second freak show of the night. As I made my pitch about Octopus Girl, I heard a lot of whistling and catcalls, and this was before the show even started.

I scanned the crowd and noticed a loud boisterous group of young men. They all seemed to know each other. Maybe they played high school football together. They all appeared to be in their early twenties and they had been drinking.

I hit the wireless buzzer that sounds in the funhouse office and a couple other places. It means there is a problem and it brings out the cavalry.

I was just getting ready to sell tickets when Bric came around the tent. He’s our punk pusher, a carny term for crew boss of the labor crew. Punks are our term for local temp workers. Bric has done this work for years. He’s been with this outfit for going on four years. He did some hard time in his youth. Nothing fazes him or intimidates him. He sports several Aryan Brotherhood tats. He was an enforcer during his bit at Folsom. One look in his eyes and you know you wanted no part of him.

Then Jumbo came over from the arcade. He spent years as the guy you try and go three rounds with. Costs you $20 to try and you get $100 if you make it.

Only requirement is you have to be on your feet, in the ring at the end of the third round. If you are knocked out or thrown out of the ring, you are done.

We don’t use this attraction unless things are really slow or Jumbo is having one of his dark moods and asks for it.

He has that name for a reason. He goes about 6’ 8” and 350 pounds. He doesn’t have the definition he had when he was on roids and playing pro football in Canada, or later when he wrestled semi-pro with various barnstorming outfits in the South.

Jumbo is no boxer but he doesn’t have to be. Actually, he just clubs you senseless with an avalanche of head shots. When you are reeling, he picks you up with an arm between your legs and throws you out of the ring.

In all the years I’ve seen him work only two guys made it to the second round. That just seemed to piss him off more. Neither of them lasted a minute into the second round.

Then two guys from the permanent labor crew showed.

I just nodded at the crowd and they all drifted around back and entered through the staff flap. They took up positions around Maria’s stage.

I’ll tell you what; if these guys had been running security for the Stones at Altamont instead of the Angel’s, there would have been order and nobody would have been stabbed.

I proceeded to sell 125 tickets, our capacity. The curtain parted. Maria looking beautiful played the role perfectly as usual. I taught her to look just above the heads of the crowd and look right and left as though she was making eye contact but she wasn’t. She never looked in their eyes or saw their faces.

The crowd came alive as we played a little music from “Jaws”. She worked her arms and legs to good effect. The little show is generally appreciated. They really just want to see if the extra limbs are real. The whole effect is too creepy to fake so everyone is usually happy. Maria typically gets a round of applause when we close the curtain. People who see the show talk about it for hours. You can hear them as they walk the midway.

This show didn’t go off as usual. The group of guys pushed close to the barrier and immediately began to yell and whistle as soon as Maria was revealed.

They’d had way too much to drink and their mommas apparently never taught them any manners. One big farm boy type in particular tried to be the comedian for his buddies.

“Hey Octopussy, you can suck me with your tentacles anytime.”

That brought laughter and shrill whistles. The rest of the crowd followed suit with lots of yelled comments.

Farm boy turned to the crowd and said, “Hey Octopussy, open those legs and I’ll be your sacrifice.”

Now the jeering was continuous.

I could see Maria was shaken and she started to tremble. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.

Quick as a flash, Farm Boy jumped the barrier and grabbed the twins legs and pulled her off her seat. She fell forward onto her hands and knees.

As soon as farm boy made his move, Bric was right behind him. As Maria fell, Farm Boy raised his arms overhead in a victory gesture as he turned to the crowd.

Bric hit him flush in the face with a punch that would have felled a bull. He dropped like he was shot, face first.

One of the crew closed the curtain and rushed out to help Maria.

A couple of Farm Boy’s buddies pushed forward toward Bric. Jumbo stepped from the opposite side wielding a pick axe handle.

I roared from the back, “Shows over. Everybody out.” A crew guy and I stepped forward with baseball bats.

They got the message. The buddies picked up Farm Boy and exited like they were in a downed jet in the Hudson River.

Outside seven or eight of us surrounded the staggering Farm Boy and his friends and I told them to leave and never come back.

They didn’t want any part of us but they had to put on a show of macho bullshit and one finger salutes as they left.

Luis rushed to Maria as soon as he heard what had happened. He helped her to their trailer. I checked on her right away. She was ok physically but she was really shaken and frightened by what had happened.

Word spread throughout our camp and everyone was real upset. Maria was the vulnerable little sister or daughter to all of us.

We decided to close the show and pull up stakes. The vibes in this area had gone bad and we expected some sort of retaliation from the locals.

We decided to pack up at daybreak and be gone by noon.

Just after 1:00 am, while Bric and I were planning our next location and tomorrows work assignments, we heard a muffled scream in the still night.

We exited the office and each grabbed a bat. The sound seemed to come from the area of Maria’s trailer. We started in that direction when we heard a cry like a kitten that had been stepped on.

We broke into a full run and were there in seconds. I opened the door and burst in with Bric right behind me.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Farm Boy had his pants down around his knees and had Maria on her back on her bed. He was using his hands to push up the twins legs so he could make penetration. Maria was just whimpering like a wounded animal. The sheets were soaked with blood.

One of Farm Boy’s friends was at the head of the bed pinning Maria’s arms and shoulder’s down.

I looked left and saw Luis unconscious on the floor.

Farm Boy looked over his shoulder as the door opened and then pulled out of her as he turned. His dick was as red as a candy apple.

Instantly my bat found his right kidney. Again and again I struck as he started screaming.

Bric took a home run swing across the chest of other guy. We pulled them to the floor and beat them in all the soft places of the stomach, kidneys, thighs, buttocks, and deltoids. We placed our shots until they couldn’t move and cried for their mommas like little babies.

Soon others arrived at the trailer. The women went immediately to Maria who was curled into a ball and mewing.

Luis was attended to and soon came around. When he saw Maria, he screamed, “Policia, Policia.”

Now we don’t go to outsiders for help, ever. We never go to law enforcement even when we come out on the short end of a deal. We rarely go to doctors. Outsiders are not welcome, no matter what the issue.

One of our crew had been a medic in the military. We relied on him for out treatment.

He tended to Maria. None of her bones had been broken. There were no cuts. The blood was from the violation of a true virgin.

Bric and Jumbo and two crew guys carried Farm Boy and his friend to the funhouse office.

I stayed and tried to calm down Luis. I told him, “No police, ever. We handle everything in house.” He wanted to take Maria to a hospital. The medic and I explained that was a bad idea. We could take care of her here. At a hospital, her condition and her deformity would create a sensation. Police would be called. He and Maria would be turned over to immigration. They would be deported and there would never be a trial. No, we’d handle it just like we always have. He calmed down.

I left him and went over to my office. Bric and Jumbo had stripped the men and hog tied them on their bellies. They were pleading for us to let them go.

I found their wallets in their jeans and pulled out their driver’s licenses.

I needed to tell them the rules before they passed out so they’d remember when they came to.

“I’ve got your addresses and I’m going to keep your licenses. You are going to be punished for what you have done. If you are lucky, you’ll live through this. But, you’ll never forget this night. We’ll be gone by morning. If you ever tell anyone what happened here or about any of us, others will track you to your homes and do things to you, your parents, your brothers and sisters, and even your pets, that will destroy their lives. It will be your fault for bringing this down on them. They will know it and they will blame you for the rest of your miserable lives. Do you understand?”

They both nodded yes.

Bric stuffed an old sock in each mouth and then secured it with a half dozen wraps of duct tape. There was no way to mouth breathe or scream.

We put clips on there nostrils and watched them buck and twist as their bodies screamed for oxygen they couldn’t get.

The sensation is like the moments before you drown. You hold your breath as long as you can. Your lungs are bursting and finally you can’t control yourself any more. You breathe in that water and fill your lungs before you become unconscious.

Well they couldn’t take that breath. They rolled in agony. Just as they drifted off, Bric released the clips. Their nostrils flared and sucked in air so fast, they collapsed in on themselves. Then they figured it out and took short, rapid breaths.

We let them recover and began again. They were gonna face death a dozen times that night. Just when their heart was ready to quit, we stopped.

Then we begin the real beating. Using leather saps, socks filled with sand and pennies, and a New York phone book, we begin. Why New York? It’s the heaviest of course.

We beat every muscle in their body. They experienced hell on earth for the next several hours. It wasn’t easy on us either. We had to trade off and take rests, step out for fresh air, and drink lots of fluids or face exhaustion.

Everyone in camp knew what was happening in the office. Their job was to accelerate our departure, pack up everything and be ready to leave at dawn.

Along about 4:30 am, we were done. We tossed the barely breathing bodies in the back of a pickup. I drove them a few miles south toward Carthage. I saw a roadside produce stand that was gonna open in a few hours. I hauled the naked black and blue swollen bodies out and cut off the ties and ripped off the duct tape. Someone would find them. They were barely recognizable as human.

By 5:30 am our whole outfit is on the road and across the Louisiana state line.

We worked several towns across northern Louisiana and then went into Arkansas. Maria never worked again. She withdrew and rarely left her trailer. Luis worked hard around camp to try and make up for the lost income. Of course he couldn’t come close. I didn’t care. None of us did. We all felt so bad for Maria.

If I hadn’t offered them a job, she would still have her dignity. It was all a damn shame. I watched the light in those beautiful brown eyes slowly dim day by day. It was no surprise to any of us when Luis told us about six weeks later that she had died in her sleep. A real case of death by broken heart.

We found a little private Catholic cemetery outside Blytheville. We held our own little burial service one night at 3:00 am. We buried her in a corner where no one would know. You could barely tell the ground had been disturbed.

Luis bought a bus ticket back to Texas. He had saved quite a bit of money. He was going to return to Mexico. It was sad to see him go but it removed that daily reminder of our pain and anger.

I took the poster of Maria and cut out the face. I burned the rest. I wanted to remember her in all of her grace.

We all had the same thought. We’d be passing through east Texas again in a few months. I had filed away the two driver’s licenses.

The score wasn’t settled. You kill an angel and you are going to pay. I will see to that. They'll die alright, our way and it will be very slow.