Fantastic Fables of Foster Flat Read online

  The words had both terrified her and thrilled her. To think someone might care about her, might send her flowers, take her out to dinner or even give her a goodnight kiss was almost more than she could imagine. Oh, sure, it was fine to write about such matters and a good bit more. Her characters had amazing lives, filled with love, and dashing, gorgeous hunks of men.

  Just like that one! she thought, as she stared at the poster lining the entranceway to the big top. There he stood with his legs spread in a stance of defiance, with a straight back chair in one hand and a bullwhip in the other. Before him sat three majestic lions—two males and a female—they were so life-like that she could almost hear them roar. Then she realized the roars were coming from inside the tent. They really do have lions here, she thought, and if there were lions, maybe...just maybe, the lion tamer was real as well.

  His name was Royce Royal, and the picture didn't do him justice in Ellenore's estimation. He was even more dashing, more handsome, and oh yes, oh so sexy. He looked like he'd stepped out of one of those commercials promoting some manly deodorant or aftershave. And it was no wonder they had his poster next to the entrance, for he was unequivocally the main attraction of the Bingham's Circus and Sideshows. In fact, as Ellenore made herself comfortable on the long bus ride home, she couldn't remember anything else about the show, even though it had been close to two hours long.

  The lion tamer had captivated her heart. Not that it mattered. She could never act on the urges she felt. Even the Muse wouldn't have been able to convince her to go “backstage” after the show and ask for his autograph, even though that had been the only reason she'd bought a program. She had missed most of the other acts because she'd spent all that time fantasizing about the many different ways she could go about meeting Royce Royal.

  But it was one thing to imagine, a far different thing actually to act upon any of them. No, instead, she'd stood at the top of the bleachers as she watched the crowd disperse and then obediently strolled out of the big top and to the bus stop.

  THE NEXT MORNING AS a half-awake Ellenore stumbled into the kitchen, she saw the morning paper on the table at her place, next to a steaming cup of coffee. Her Muse had already been at work. Doesn't he ever sleep? she wondered, as she sat down and glanced at the paper, then picked it up to take a closer look at the headlines.

  Lion Escapes from Circus

  Authorities Conduct Massive Search

  “Oh, my God!” Ellenore said as she read the article. It had to be one of the lions she'd seen just yesterday. How in the world could it have escaped? No sooner had she asked herself that question than she read the answer. It appeared that someone had cut the lock off the cage door, maliciously releasing the dangerous lioness.

  Now, who would have done such a terrible thing? Ellenore wondered.

  Probably some do-gooder animal activist, Allison chimed in.

  Ellenore ignored the comment, her thoughts turning to Royce Royal instead. He must be beside himself with worry, she thought. It was clear to her watching him perform yesterday that he really cared for his cats.

  Putting down the paper, she decided to check to see if the Muse was still awake or if he had gone back to bed after retrieving the paper and fixing her coffee. She walked down the hall to the spare bedroom that also doubled as her writing nook and gently tapped on the door. Since the door was shut but not latched, her tapping opened it several inches, so she decided to go ahead and stick her head in. The spectacle before her froze her in place.

  Indeed, the Muse had gone back to bed but not to sleep and not alone. There before her, wrapped in a lovers' embrace, lay her Muse and the escaped lioness. Realizing his privacy had been invaded, the Muse sat up and stared at Ellenore. “Muses have needs, too,” he said as he nuzzled closer to his bedmate.

  “But, but...you can't...what are you doing in my bedroom with that lion?” Ellenore sputtered.

  “Well, technically it's as much my room as yours,” the Muse replied. “After all, it's your writing nook, so where else would you expect me to hang out?”

  “You're missing the point,” Ellenore replied. “It's not the place I'm taking issue with—it's what you're doing in the place that...that has me speechless.”

  “Well, again, technically speaking, you're not completely speechless...”

  “Get up and get out of that bed and get that...that lion out of my house!” Ellenore yelled.

  The Muse stroked the lion's head gently. “It'll be okay, my love. She's loud, but harmless.”

  “If you want her out of here, you might want to call the police and have them come fetch her. I'll stay here and keep her entertained until they get here,” the Muse offered. As he did so, the lion yawned, revealing a huge mouth filled with very large teeth. Suddenly, the Muse's idea made a lot of sense to Ellenore.

  As she began to retreat from the room, the Muse added, “I suggest you also put on your best dress and some makeup and brush your hair. You can't catch fish without bait.”

  Ellenore backed out of the room and shut the door as tightly as she could. “Entertain her, uh...I just bet you will,” she muttered as she scurried down the hall to the kitchen to call for help. “And why in the hell should I dress up for the...police...oh, well, now wait a minute.” Suddenly it all came together—the cut lock, the lion mysteriously showing up in her Muse's bed, his request for her to call the police to fetch the giant cat.

  She smiled despite herself. Maybe the Muse knew what he was doing after all. She hurriedly called the police, then ran to her bedroom to change into her nicest dress.

  ELLENORE HAD TO HAND it to the Foster Flat's police squad. They might work in a small town, but they sure seemed dedicated to their job of protecting the public. She had less than fifteen minutes to change her clothes, brush her hair and apply a little makeup as her Muse had advised. In fact, she was still brushing her hair as she walked to the door to let them in. As she reached for the doorknob, she realized she still held the brush, so she quickly tossed it on the table next to the coat rack, then glanced out the small window of the door to be sure who she was opening her home to. There she found two uniformed police officers, and behind them stood a distraught, yet still very handsome, Royce Royal.

  Imagine, Royce Royal is standing on my porch, she thought as she continued to stare at him, admiring his wavy jet-black hair and shockingly blue-green eyes. She was also a little surprised to find that he wore the same lion tamer uniform she'd seen him in the day before—the khaki pants full in the thighs that then tapered down into the black, almost knee high boots.

  If you don't let them in, they're going to break the door down. Allison's comment broke the spell. But, later we need to talk about that slutty Muse of yours. As Ellenore unbolted the door, she heard a second police cruiser pulling in the back alley behind her house, its siren winding down as it came to a stop.

  “Ms. Mishner,” the older police officer, who was obviously in charge, said. “I understand you have information about a missing lion.”

  “More than information, Officer,” Ellenore replied, finding it almost impossible to keep focused on the officer. Her attention kept straying to Royce. “I know where it is.”

  “Oh, good,” Royce said with a deep sigh of relief and a southern twang that played with Ellenore's heartstrings. “Where is my dear Kiara?” He wedged himself between the two officers as he reached out to grip Ellenore's hand. “Please tell me she is all right.”

  Ellenore felt her face flush despite her best effort to stay calm. “Oh, yes. She's fine. She's...well, she's in my spare bedroom at the moment with...” she stopped herself...”ah, may I show you the way?”

  “Ma’am, is the room secure?” the younger officer asked. Ellenore glanced at him. Seeing him for the first time, she had a fleeting thought that she might have a hard time keeping her eyes off him under other circumstances, but with Royce there, the young man's youthful good looks paled by comparison.

  “Well, yes, I'd say so. When I noticed her in there,
I closed the door quite securely. There's a window, but it hasn't been opened in years, so, yes, she's quite secure at the moment.”

  “Any idea how she got there?” the older officer asked as he took out his notepad.

  “Not a clue,” Ellenore replied.

  “So your story is that you don't know who cut the lock on the cage, but that somehow the lion just showed up this morning in your bedroom?” The officer glared at her with such intensity Ellenore began to wonder if it had been such a good idea to call them.

  “Now, now, Officer,” Royce said as he stepped between the officer and Ellenore, grasping her hand in his. “I'm sure Miss Mishner is completely innocent of any wrongdoing. Ahh, it is Miss, is it not?”

  If possible, Ellenore's face grew even redder. “Yes, that's right.” Then, realizing he still held her hand, she reluctantly withdrew it.

  “Sergeant, why don't I call animal control and let them know that we've got the animal confined,” the young officer said. “They're on standby. They can be here in a matter of minutes.”

  “Call it in,” the older officer replied, and then turned back to Ellenore. “We may need to ask you a few more questions later.”

  “Sure, Officer,” Ellenore said, “I've nothing to hide.” Except a cantankerous, over-sexed Muse that probably has his own police record, Allison interjected.

  “Sshh,” Ellenore said.

  “Pardon?” Royce asked.

  “Oh, nothing. May I get any of you a cup of coffee?”

  The two officers shook their heads.

  “Why, I'd love some,” Royce said. “It's been a long night. I could use a little jolt to wake me up.”

  The two of them walked into the kitchen, leaving the officers to wait for reinforcements. As Ellenore rounded the corner, she abruptly stopped. The Muse sat at the table with a cup of coffee and the paper in front of him.

  She was about to turn to stop Royce, but he was already in the kitchen and bumped into her.

  “I'm so sorry,” he said as he reached out and caught her to keep her from falling. She instinctively grabbed his strong arms of sinewy steel.

  “Oh, oh, maybe I should bring you your coffee...” Ellenore started.

  “Don't worry. He can't see me,” the Muse replied without bothering to look up from the paper. “No one can see me except you, so relax and enjoy yourself.”

  Suddenly, Ellenore realized that Royce Royal, star attraction lion tamer for the Bingham's Circus and Sideshows, was holding her in his arms, and seemed quite content to do so.

  “My, you smell like an early spring morning breeze over the Mediterranean,” he whispered in her ear. As he continued to gaze into her eyes, she could feel her heart melt and her legs grow weak. Finally, realizing that if she didn't break his spell over her, she'd be too weak to stand, Ellenore gently pushed herself away and walked over to the coffee maker. When she turned back around with two mugs of coffee in her hands, Royce was sitting at the table where the Muse had been, and the Muse was nowhere to be seen. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “When this is all done, and Kiara is safely back where she belongs, I would love it if you'd be my guest at our performance this evening,” Royce said as he reached out and grasped Ellenore's hand and gave it a warm squeeze. “Please say you will let me thank you in this way.”

  Ellenore nodded, opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so she closed it again, took a deep breath and tried again. “Yes, that would be pleasant, I'm sure.”

  “And will you stay after and have dinner with me?” Royce rubbed her hand gently.

  “You want to have dinner with me?” Ellenore asked, and instantly regretted it.

  “Why, yes, my dear. It's the least I can do for saving my dear Kiara...not to mention my job.”

  No doubt that's his typical modus operandi, she heard Allison say. He just wants to get you back to his tent. Remember how loose his precious Kiara is. Where do you think she learned her trashy ways?

  “Hush,” Ellenore said.

  “What was that?” Royce asked.

  “Nothing. I'd be happy to have dinner with you.”

  “Good. Then it's settled. I'll make sure you're treated like royalty. You have Royce Royal's word on it.”

  ELLENORE'S FIRST THOUGHT upon awakening was to wonder where in the world she was. None of her senses helped her out. They only alerted her to the fact that she wasn't home in her own bed. She didn't recognize any of the sights, sounds or smells that assaulted her fragile condition upon opening her eyes, so she let her eyelids close again. Doing so only marginally helped her splitting headache—a condition she almost never suffered from. Perhaps that's a clue that would help me figure out where I am and what's going on, she thought.

  You're hung over, she heard Allison pipe up with an air of condescension. Which is what happens when you drink as much champagne as you drank last night.

  Champagne? Ellenore wondered. She didn't drink champagne...at least not as a general rule. She didn't even have any in the house. Then it slowly came back to her. Clearly she wasn't in her house. She'd gone to the circus, special guest of Royce Royal. She'd then accepted his invitation to dine with him. That's where the champagne had come from. She even remembered thinking when he popped the second bottle that it was probably not a good idea for her to share in it, but share in it she had...which had led to the rest of the evening unfolding as pretty much a blur.

  She continued to lie under the warm covers with her eyes closed. The evening hadn't been an entire blur. There were parts that stuck out quite clearly in her mind, like the first time Royce leaned across the table and kissed her. Then, there was his leading her over to the couch that dominated the small room of his trailer, where he'd kissed her again, before picking her up in his arms and carrying her to his bedroom.

  And that's where I am, she concluded, which must mean that she was, even now, lying beside her lover, the lion tamer. Oh, my God, she thought as she gently snaked her arm under the cover, trying to locate some part of him next to her, but there was nothing there—not even a warm spot where he'd been.

  Finally, she opened her eyes again to confirm that, sure enough, she was alone in bed. Well, not entirely alone. On the pillow next to her was a note.

  My Dear Sweet Ellenore,

  It is with great sadness that I must leave your side, but unfortunately, I've been called away by the ringmaster - my boss - the man to whom I must answer. He requires me to join him to prepare our next venue.

  Yours most fondly,

  Royce

  So this is how it feels to be jilted, Ellenore thought as she read the note for a second, then third time, the tears slowly trickling their way down her face. It had been a spectacular evening, but now it was over. I wonder if this is how Kiara felt? Used by her Muse, then tossed aside...back to her cage and her circus life. Both of them had been used and tossed aside by their men-folk. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

  And what of your reputation? Allison interjected. What if your neighbors find out where you spent the night? You'll have to move from Foster Flat...a fallen woman.

  A fallen woman? Where had that come from? Ellenore wondered as she prepared to defend herself to her lifelong friend. Then it dawned on her where she'd heard that term before—her mother! Her lifelong friend would never use such a phrase. In fact, come to think of it, there'd been several things she'd heard lately that didn't sound at all like Allison. You're not really Allison, are you?

  What do you mean? Of course I am. I care about you when no one else will. I try to keep you on the straight and narrow...

  There it goes again—the straight and narrow. How many times had she heard her mother use that term?

  No, your disguise has been blown, dear, sweet Mother. The jig is up. Now, get the hell out of my head and stay out.

  Well, I...I never... the voice of Allison started, but it now sounded more and more like her mother's voice. Then, with a noticeable POP!, it vanished.

  Ellenore tossed the
covers off and swung her legs to the cold floor of the trailer. Funny, even though she'd lost a lover and lifelong “friend” in the last twelve hours, she felt more alive than she had in years. She sat on the edge of the bed for a few more moments before looking around. Across the room sat the Muse in an overstuffed chair.

  “Good morning, Sunshine. Ready to go home and write the next Great American Novel?” he asked.

  “No,” Ellenore replied. “But I could use your help writing the next Great American Romance.”

  “It's a deal,” the Muse replied as he stood up, but remained crouched over so as not to hit his head on the low ceiling. “Right after you fix me one of those delicious sandwiches of yours.”

  As Ellenore dressed, her gaze kept wandering back to the Muse. Finally she asked, “You're Allison, aren't you?”

  The Muse gave her a coy smile in return. “Just think of me as Allison 2.0. Come on, we’ve got some writing to do.”

  “That's right,” Ellenore replied. “But after that, I might need your help with another matter.”

  “What's that?”

  “Inviting that young police officer over for dinner. I just love a man in a uniform.” As she walked by the Muse, she threw him a high five.

  7th Avenue Buddha

  MY OBSERVATION AFTER several decades of life, many of them traveling around this fine country and others, is that many, if not most, towns around the world have their own “wrong side of the tracks” neighborhood. Some of those neighborhoods are actually on the other side of the railroad tracks that divide the town’s haves from the have-nots. Such was the case with Foster Flat’s section known as the 7th Avenue area. The section started on the north side of Foster Flat where the old railroad station and 7th Avenue sat within a short stone’s throw of the Foster Flat Rescue Mission. There, anyone down on their luck could get a hot meal and a place for the night as long as they understood they’d have to vamoose the next morning.