squinted up at that vast corral of beasts and beings. 'This boy said - '
'Said?!' The Illustrated Man barked a laugh. The freaks leaped in a frolic of shock, then calmed as the carnival owner continued with great ease, patting and soothing his own illustrations, which somehow patted and soothed the freaks. 'Said? But what did he see? Boys always scare themselves at sideshows, eh? Run like rabbits when the freaks pop out. But tonight, especially tonight!'
The policemen glanced beyond to the Erector-set-papier mâché relic constricted in the Electric Chair.
'Who's he?'
Will saw fire lick up through Mr Dark's smoke-clouded eyes, saw him just as quickly snuff it out. 'The new act. Mr Electrico.'
'No! Look at the old man! Look!' Will yelled. The police turned to appraise his demon cry.
'Don't you see!' said Will. 'He's dead! Only thing holds him up is the straps!'
The internes gazed up at the great flake of winter flung into and held by the black chair.
Oh gosh, thought Will, we thought it would all be simple. The old man, Mr Cooger, dying, so we bring doctors to save him, so he forgives us, maybe, maybe, the carnival doesn't hurt us, lets us go. But now this, what's next? He's dead! It's too late! Everyone hates us!
And Will stood among the others feeling the cold air waft down from the unearthed mummy, from the cold mouth and cold eyes locked up in frozen eyelids. Inside the frozen nostrils not a white hair stirred. Mr Cooger's ribs under his collapsed shirt were stone-rigid and his teeth under his clay lips were dry-ice cold. Put him out at noon and fog would steam off him.
The internes glanced at each other. They nodded.
The policemen, at this, took one step forward.
'Gentlemen!'
Mr Dark scuttled a tarantula hand up an electric brass switchboard.
'One hundred thousand volts will now bum Mr Electrico's body!
'No don't let him! Will cried.
The policemen took another step. The internes opened their mouths to speak. Mr Dark flicked a swift demanding glance at Jim. Jim cried:
'No! It's all right!'
'Jim!'
'Will, yes, it's okay!'
'Stand back!' The spider clutched the switch handle. 'This man is in a trance! As part of our new act, I have hypnotized him! He could suffer injury if you shocked him from his spell!'
The internes shut their mouths. The police stopped moving.
'One hundred thousand volts! Yet he will come forth alive, whole in sound mind and body!'
'No!'
A policeman grabbed Will.
The Illustrated Man and all the men and beasts asprawl in frenzies on him now snatched and banged the switch.
The tent lights snuffed out.
Policemen, internes, boys jumped up their flesh in cobbles and boils.
But now in the swift midnight shuttering, the Electric Chair was a hearth and on it the old man blazed like a blue autumn tree.
The police flinched back, the internes leaned ahead, as did the freaks, blue fire in their eyes.
The Illustrated Man hand glued to switch, looked upon the old old old man.
The old man was flint-rock dead, yes, but electricity alive sheathed over him. It swarmed on his cold shell ears, it flickered in his deep-as-an-abandoned-stone-well nostrils. It crept blue eels of power on his praying-mantis fingers and his grasshopper knees.
'The Illustrated Man's lips thrust wide., perhaps he yelled, but no one heard against the immense fry, blast, the slam and sizzle of power which prowled in around over under about man and prisoning chair. Come alive! cried the hum! Come alive! cried the storming colour and light. Come alive! yelled Mr Dark's mouth, which no one heard but Jim, reading lips, read thunderous loud in his mind, and Will the same, Come alive! willing the old man to five, start up, tick, hum, work juice, summon spit, ungum spirit, melt wax soul. . . .
'He's dead!' But no one heard Will,
'Said?!' The Illustrated Man barked a laugh. The freaks leaped in a frolic of shock, then calmed as the carnival owner continued with great ease, patting and soothing his own illustrations, which somehow patted and soothed the freaks. 'Said? But what did he see? Boys always scare themselves at sideshows, eh? Run like rabbits when the freaks pop out. But tonight, especially tonight!'
The policemen glanced beyond to the Erector-set-papier mâché relic constricted in the Electric Chair.
'Who's he?'
Will saw fire lick up through Mr Dark's smoke-clouded eyes, saw him just as quickly snuff it out. 'The new act. Mr Electrico.'
'No! Look at the old man! Look!' Will yelled. The police turned to appraise his demon cry.
'Don't you see!' said Will. 'He's dead! Only thing holds him up is the straps!'
The internes gazed up at the great flake of winter flung into and held by the black chair.
Oh gosh, thought Will, we thought it would all be simple. The old man, Mr Cooger, dying, so we bring doctors to save him, so he forgives us, maybe, maybe, the carnival doesn't hurt us, lets us go. But now this, what's next? He's dead! It's too late! Everyone hates us!
And Will stood among the others feeling the cold air waft down from the unearthed mummy, from the cold mouth and cold eyes locked up in frozen eyelids. Inside the frozen nostrils not a white hair stirred. Mr Cooger's ribs under his collapsed shirt were stone-rigid and his teeth under his clay lips were dry-ice cold. Put him out at noon and fog would steam off him.
The internes glanced at each other. They nodded.
The policemen, at this, took one step forward.
'Gentlemen!'
Mr Dark scuttled a tarantula hand up an electric brass switchboard.
'One hundred thousand volts will now bum Mr Electrico's body!
'No don't let him! Will cried.
The policemen took another step. The internes opened their mouths to speak. Mr Dark flicked a swift demanding glance at Jim. Jim cried:
'No! It's all right!'
'Jim!'
'Will, yes, it's okay!'
'Stand back!' The spider clutched the switch handle. 'This man is in a trance! As part of our new act, I have hypnotized him! He could suffer injury if you shocked him from his spell!'
The internes shut their mouths. The police stopped moving.
'One hundred thousand volts! Yet he will come forth alive, whole in sound mind and body!'
'No!'
A policeman grabbed Will.
The Illustrated Man and all the men and beasts asprawl in frenzies on him now snatched and banged the switch.
The tent lights snuffed out.
Policemen, internes, boys jumped up their flesh in cobbles and boils.
But now in the swift midnight shuttering, the Electric Chair was a hearth and on it the old man blazed like a blue autumn tree.
The police flinched back, the internes leaned ahead, as did the freaks, blue fire in their eyes.
The Illustrated Man hand glued to switch, looked upon the old old old man.
The old man was flint-rock dead, yes, but electricity alive sheathed over him. It swarmed on his cold shell ears, it flickered in his deep-as-an-abandoned-stone-well nostrils. It crept blue eels of power on his praying-mantis fingers and his grasshopper knees.
'The Illustrated Man's lips thrust wide., perhaps he yelled, but no one heard against the immense fry, blast, the slam and sizzle of power which prowled in around over under about man and prisoning chair. Come alive! cried the hum! Come alive! cried the storming colour and light. Come alive! yelled Mr Dark's mouth, which no one heard but Jim, reading lips, read thunderous loud in his mind, and Will the same, Come alive! willing the old man to five, start up, tick, hum, work juice, summon spit, ungum spirit, melt wax soul. . . .
'He's dead!' But no one heard Will,
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