The Vial Scent

Olaf lay there, still, half on and half off the zebra-patterned sofa in his trailer and didn't open his eyes until the ringmaster's assistant slapped him repeatedly in the face to wake him. Not unused to this kind of circus roughhousing, Olaf instinctively grabbed at the man's knees, encircling them in his arms and squeezed as hard as he could until the man lost his balance and toppled over striking his head on the corner of the glass coffee table, ending up face down in the plush white carpet turning red.

The lion taming act would be canceled again ... for the third night in a row and the second night of declining ticket sales. The ringmaster had no choice. The show had to go on. The magician, who had worked with the big cats in another circus, had been champing at the bit to expand his act in tribute to Siegfried and Roy, so the lion trainer was fired and evicted from the camp, and the new lion tamer-illusionist was given the keys and set to debut that night. Sign painters were driven hard to create the life-size announcements that would draw a profitable crowd.

The trailer was ransacked for every tip or trick that could be transferred to the new owner, and the find was discovered locked away in a refrigerated container. A small vial of liquid, labeled 'Emergency Use Only!' in small print. Having worked with lions and tigers before, the magician knew that lion tamers kept closely guarded secrets about special scents that could be used to great effect if properly applied, and so unscrewing the lid and carefully wafting the odor of its contents, he was convinced that this would trigger the climax of his performance.

The tent for the evening's main event was packed. The marketing had worked. The signs, the rumors that had been circulated in town had brought an overflow crowd. It was noisy ... the noise of unsated anticipation or maybe just bloodlust. The ringmaster urged on by the townies exaggerated his own performance beyond what any of the cirkies had ever seen. Everyone was on edge.

All went dark—pitch black. Seconds passed. The light—brighter than before—burst out to the accompaniment of the brass band. In the middle ring of the great tent stood the magician in tuxedo and black cape and the lion, majestic and unrestrained, on its dais.

In the crowd, unchecked by his former co-workers was the lion tamer in the disguise of an old hunchback. In the tight fist of his right hand was a small unlabeled vial of fluid separated into thin layers of rainbow colours. He'd never thought he'd need to use it, but tonight he knew he would. Edging as close to the front as such a one can in a mesmerized but increasingly impatient crowd, he gradually drew himself up to full height, shook the vial vigorously and uncapped it, then threw it in the direction of the beast.

There were exclamations of choking and disgust as the pungent smell was unleashed, no one taking notice of the man who disappeared to the back of the tent. The vial rolled at the feet of the great cat, and its powerful nose drew the scent in deeply. An acutely worried look froze on the magician's face—sabotaged, and he knew it.

The lion raised itself and stood on all fours, and as if on cue—from somewhere—walked a precise circle around the dais, leaped onto it, and then leaped high in the air vanishing through an enormous rent in the canvas top of the tent.

The lion was never recovered. Hunters from hundreds of miles around scoured the county for days hoping for a trophy like none they'd ever imagined possible for poor, ordinary folk. No trace, no trail, no clues.

The hunters cursed PETA, but the organization denied any knowledge of the goings-on, though a spokesperson was not displeased at the thought that it might have been a one in a million safe escape.

The circus never recovered from its financial loss, and lots of angry cirkies hounded the ringmaster, quite literally, to death for their lost wages.

A year later, the town was blessed with the opening of a roller derby arena, and no one ever gave another thought to the circus that had come to town.