“Wait until after school, freak!” threatened Derrick with tears pooling up in his eyes, as he angrily shook a clenched fist in front of Jacob’s face. “I’m going to pulverize you!”
Instantly Jacob felt a horrific remorse over his sharp tongue, realizing that he had just sealed his own doom when he heard Ms. Kipper’s nasal voice suddenly say,“….yes class, Jacob’s recent disclosure reminds me of an experience I had when I was a young girl. My eldest brother horse-traded his pocketknife along with one of my favorite dolls for a couple of tickets to see a live human freak show at a passing carnival. And although I was very upset with him at the time, I was also very excited and tickled-pink to have the opportunity to peek at real live freaks. Chances like that just didn’t happen in our small town, and they had on display an incredible exhibit of freaks that were just like our very own Jacob. Why as I recall there was Willy the needle head, the Goat Man, a bearded lady and the famous Siamese twin cow. But the main attraction was ‘Three Headed Sam.’ Oh, I can still remember it all just like yesterday. I was inside a small circus tent sitting in the front row waiting for the show to begin. In front of me was a mysterious tall clump covered over with a dusty brown blanket. A circus clown briskly pushed back the tent flap and came in. Merrily he then strolled up to the front of the audience and stood only a few feet from me squeezing his squeaky red nose. Suddenly he yanked off the blanket to reveal Sam, a three-headed freak sitting right there in front of me on a stool, with an old brown accordion resting right on his lap. I was amazed as can be. I had never imagined there could ever be such a thing as a man with three heads. And then to my surprise, all three of his little heads tilted forward, looking straight down at me with broad happy smiles. He pulled apart the bellows of his accordion and began to play—and surprisingly all three of his heads broke out merrily singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic in rounds—I was simply in awe! What an incredible sight to behold! But that’s when it happened—the biggest shock of my entire life—one of his heads slowly leaned to the side and fell off his shoulder, and landing on the ground with a sickening smack it rolled right towards me—eeeuuhhh!” Miss Kipper brought her trembling fists together in front of her face. “It came to a stop right between my legs,” she continued, peeking out over the top of her fists. “And to this day I still have nightmares that relive that horrid image, for when I looked down I saw it staring straight back up at me saying, ‘Hello there young lady! Are you enjoying our show?’ it asked. My oh my, I never screamed so loud in my entire life!”
Throughout the room hands flew into the air, instantly blanketing the entire class. Everyone seemed to have a question. “Ms. Kipper did you talk back to it…did they bill him as two headed Sam after that…did he finish the song…did you kick it back?”
“Of all the bad luck,” miserably thought Jacob, now slouching low in his seat, wanting nothing more than to disappear. “This has gotta be the worst day of my life!” In only a matter of seconds he was publicly branded as a freak for life and had managed to secure for himself a sure beating.
“Ms. Kipper,” continued the students, “can we have Jacob show us his stomach now?”
“Oh, no,” replied Ms. Kipper, “That’s quite inappropriate. After all, freaks have their proper place and performing in our classroom is simply out of the question — no not the thing we decent folks do.”
At long length Jacob’s first day back at school dragged on to a tattered end. It had lasted longer than a caster-oil jawbreaker. Every laugh, every ridicule, and every scorn had unluckily left him with a bad taste of what his glum future was to be. All of his classmates had laughingly poked abundant fun at him, and now even the girls were begging to see his belly. But worst of all buggerboy wouldn’t let up, constantly tormenting him over and over, reminding him of his pending appointment of pain. “Why me? Why did this all have to happen to me?” he pondered, feeling terribly sorry for himself.
Ms. Kipper began to write their homework assignments on the blackboard, and eager to leave the students hurried to copy them down, but Jacob broken and dispirited, sat motionless staring down at his desk, ignoring the posted assignments.
“Only a few minutes more and then I’m going to pound you numb Frost!” threatened Derrick from behind.
In short order Jacob would soon be squaring off with bugger boy, and now more than ever he regretted having made his brainless slur. He had never been pounded before, and being forced to submit to all that horrible pain simply terrified him. “What an end to the worst day of my life,” he wallowed, sinking deeper into a gloomy mire of self-pity. “My jinxed curse is dooming me to an ugly demise, and for sure this cloud of misfortune will hover over me to my dying day. And even then nobody will see it as it floats over my casket thick and black, invisible to everyone as they criticize me, because I’m a poor miserable jinxed soul. This has gotta be the worst!”
As the class began to clear off their desks, he decided that his only chance would be to make a run for it. “And why shouldn’t I?” he validated, believing it to be his only reasonable means of escape. “I’ve already been branded a freak, so being called a coward can’t be any worse. Besides I can run pretty fast, and maybe I’m even the fastest boy in the school.”
“Now class,” squeaked Ms. Kipper, in her loud obnoxious voice that pierced every ear, “if anyone needs extra help with their homework, than that’s just too bad. And if you do it wrong then I have plenty more practice assignments to give you. Thank goodness today’s class is over—class is now dismissed!”
Eagerly the students jumped up from their desks aggressively pushing and shoving each other out the narrow doorway, making their way to the open yard where similar to a rowdy mob gathering for a ringside boxing event, they noisily crowded around Derrick.
“You gonna wallop him good? Right Derrick,” shouted an enthusiastic boy.
“Make him show us his stomach,” cried an overly excited girl.
Happily Derrick gloated with a toffee-nosed smile, as he held up his fat fists and punched the air, showing off his boxing skills to his new found fans. “Just watch me,” he bragged, “I’m gonna wallop him good!”
“Well here goes nothing,” muttered Jacob, standing alone in the doorway. He glared at the agitated spectators and then vowed that he would escape Derrick’s pummeling no matter what. “After all, he’s only a dim-witted sap-head! Why should I let him get any satisfaction at my expense,” he angrily snapped.
He took one last deep breath to bolster his courage and then shot from the schoolhouse, running as fast as his legs could carry him towards town. Immediately the crowd caught sight of his desperate attempt to escape, and acting like a popular hero Derrick jumped into a lumbering pursuit, followed closely by the noisy onlookers prodding Derrick on with their cries to hurry.
“FASTER DERRICK, FASTER, OH JUST HURRY!” cried a girl.
“HE’S GETTING AWAY!” shouted a hysterical boy.
Like any other small country horse town, the unpaved streets of Ridgeway were connected with narrow paths zigzagging around strewn buildings. The main boulevard, Market Street, however stretched straight out across the long town. Along the edges of the street were wooden walkways and scattered hitching posts unevenly placed in front of merchant shops and businesses. Most of the buildings were single story wood frame, but in the town’s center stood two three-story brick buildings that faced off from opposite sides of the street, giving that portion of town a big city appearance for at least half a block.
By the time Jacob entered the outskirts of Ridgeway, he had safely managed to outrun the angry mob and put enough distance between them to be completely out of sight. To his side he noticed a wall of stacked barrels, partially blocking the front windows of the town’s general store. Tall and wide, they looked to be a perfect place to hide behind, however the convenient placement had also made them a likely place for Derrick to search. Restraining his natural inclination to immediately hide behind the barrels, he carefully began considering other options, studying the various objects and nooks in the street, the open stores and alleyways. “Maybe behind the butcher shop,” he finally decided, glancing back to see if the coast was still clear. “There ought to be a spot back there I can burrow into, and he’ll never think to look for me behind that puny store.”
He again glanced back over his shoulder and was relieved to find that he was still alone. Resuming his escape he darted down Main Street, turning into the narrow alleyway that ended directly behind the butcher shop’s rear door. There he saw a parked-boxed wagon hitched with two black horses. “This is perfect,” he thought, quickly ducking behind the wagon. “At last my luck is changing for the better.” Since he had successfully escaped the mob he began to relax, breathing heavily from his long run. He bent over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath, and curiously he looked up studying the peculiar wagon. It had a rectangular base with a round overhanging roof that appeared somewhat familiar. On both sides in bold red letters was an unusual advertisement, ‘Mr. Pitts’ Odds and Ends Traveling Rummage Sale.’ He continued to stare when suddenly he realized that the wagon was the exact same shape as their barn in every detail. “By golly, I wish Uncle Clair could see this!” he chuckled out loud.
“OVER HERE, FOUND HIM!” suddenly echoed a shout.
Shocked that he had been discovered, he immediately regretted his brainless prattle and glanced around the corner of the wagon to view the damage. His eyes popped wide open in terror as he saw Derrick with the rest of the class madly rush into the narrow alleyway. He had no means of escape; the mob was blocking his only way out.
It took only a matter of seconds for Derrick to reach the foot of the wagon and step around the corner. Standing only inches away, Jacob nervously looked up into Derrick’s angry face and saw plump drops of sweat running down his low brow. The boisterous crowd squeezed in around the wagon, leaving little room to maneuver, and suddenly without warning, the bully cocked his arm and threw a punch. A fast blur whooshed towards Jacob and “WHAPP”—it connected hard, hammering a big fat fist across his cheek. Instantly Jacob’s head was thrown to the side, and for a split second a bright flash of light blinded his vision. Tears began to pool up in his eyes, and a burning pain bit into his cheek. He shook his head trying to recover his senses, realizing that he was now totally helpless. “There’s no way I’m gonna escape this,” he desperately thought, as a paralyzing fear gripped his entire body.
“Hit him again,” cried the crowd.
“Call me a freak will ya!” shouted Derrick, trembling with anger. “I’ll show you who’s the real freak! By the time I’m done with you your face will be so mangled up that you’ll never dare call me or anyone else a freak again!”
Jacob forced himself straight, knowing that he had to do something to protect himself or else be mauled over. He clenched his hands tight preparing to defend himself as best he could, while Derrick drew his elbow back in preparation for another blow. The window of opportunity opened for only a brief second and Jacob took his best shot, punching Derrick’s open stomach. He connected a hard driving blow with all his might right into Derrick’s soft blubbery belly, and like a feather pillow it fully enveloped his hand. Jacob looked up expecting to see Derrick’s face contorting in pain, but surprisingly Derrick responded back with a smile. Again Derrick swung his fist, and a wave of hopeless fear gripped Jacob. “THWAPP,” sounded the strike, battering Jacob’s jaw. This time Jacob helplessly spun around and fell straight to the ground. The side of his face throbbed in horrific pain, and he knew that it was a sign that he was still alive. Now that Derrick had thoroughly thrashed him, he hoped with all his being that it was over with and decided to stay down. But Derrick shouted in a loud angry voice, “Get up Frost! Or I’m gonna kick your head off!”
With no choice but to square off with Derrick again, Jacob rose to his knees. “This time,” he thought, “I’ll punch him right in the nose before he even has a chance to do anything. That will for sure slow him down!”
Determined, Jacob staggered up to his feet with a clenched fist ready to strike at the first open chance, but to his dismay he saw Derrick already set, waiting to take another strike. “This is it,” he thought, “I’m dead meat for sure!”
At that very moment with all hope beat completely out of him, he felt a strange tingling sensation suddenly shoot through his entire body. “Is this what pure fear feels like?” he questioned to himself. “But it’s too overpowering and unfamiliar to be fear. No, maybe its something else like death. It’s new, something different, something completely unrecognizable.” From inside out the tingling sensation grew with a sudden intensity that painfully pricked every fiber of his body, a feeling so strong that it felt as if he were about to explode. He tried his best to suppress the sensation and brace himself for the oncoming attack, but instead uncontrollably his arms flew upwards, crossing over his face, and next his ears simultaneously began to flutter back and forth like a butterfly’s wings in flight. He couldn’t stop himself, the strange horrible force had seized complete control over him and he was powerless to do anything about it. Derrick stood ready to strike with his arm cocked, but his facial expression had unexpectedly changed from anger to thunderstruck. He dropped open his jaw and lowered his arm, staring at Jacob’s ears while the crowd also openly reacted.
“Look, look at his ears,” cried a boy, with his eyes wide.
“I think he is trying to fly away,” laughed a girl.
Jacob could feel his palms now growing hot, and he struggled with all his might to pull his arms back down. But the more he tried the weaker he became, falling deeper into the control of the strange and unknown force.
“Wh-what’s happening to me,” he cried terrified, as his hands flew open and a strange shaft of white light exploded out from his palms, hitting Derrick square in the belly. A hard slap sounded as the center of Derrick’s stomach pushed inward. In total disbelief Jacob watched the bully lift off the ground, and suddenly shoot like a bullet out over the tops of the mob to unbelievably land some twenty feet back with a “THUMP,” flat on his stomach. Derrick slid across the dirt and ultimately came to a stop at the alleyway’s opening. Slowly he stood up staggering to his feet. With dirt smeared across his face and shirt, and his mouth hanging open like the top of a rain barrel, he stared back at Jacob. Then with a hand over his belly he bolted away, running faster than Jacob had ever seen anyone run before. Within a matter of seconds the rest of the mob followed, screaming and squealing like a heard of frightened pigs. And strangely Jacob was left alone in utter and complete silence. For several minutes, that seemed to pass like hours, he stood frozen, shocked and puzzled over what he had just done.
“Maybe—just maybe I’m a freak after all, no normal person could have done that!” he worried, staring at his palms as he recalled the rigid look of horror plastered on Derrick’s face.
From the corner of his eye he caught a sudden glimpse of a tall man wearing a dusty brown suit. Startled that he was being spied upon, he spun quickly around to see a skinny sooty-haired gentleman staring back at him with a broad smile. The stranger had a long nose jutting out over thin lips, strong prominent cheekbones, and a broad dominant chin. However behind a wrinkled and weathered face, the man’s blue eyes glistened with a soft mellow glow that gave him a surprisingly good-hearted appearance.
“Hello there young man,” greeted the stranger. “That was quite a display of fudazzlement. My name is Theodore Pitts, but most folks just call me Mr. Pitts. Kind of formal and kind of a nickname all in one. I believe I know who you are; you’re the young lad living with Clair Frost.”
“Yes sir,” replied Jacob politely, still troubled over his bizarre skirmish.
“And if I recall, your name is Jacob. Correct?”
“Uh—yeah,” answered Jacob, feeling somewhat taken aback.
“Well then Jacob, it’s truly my pleasure to meet you and make this acquaintanceship. Seeing you now reminds me of the last time I was here when you were just a wee-little tot. My, how time flies.” Mr. Pitts with his eyes twinkling glanced to his side and began to pat the wagon, giving it a look of great pride. “Over the years since I saw you last I have traveled the world in this magnificent chariot of mine and I’ve seen and heard just about everything. Oh the countless stories I could tell you, why they’d curl your ears! You’ll have to excuse me Jacob because I do sometimes ramble on, and I suppose right now I may seem a little hen-witted. What I’m trying to ask is your permission to follow you home for a short visit; I would very much like to see good old Clair again.”
“Uh—yeah—well I guess that’s okay,” replied Jacob, struggling to remember who Mr. Pitts could be.
“Righteoo then, did you come by horse or walk here? If the latter I can give you a ride in my wondrous wagon.”
“By horse sir. It’s up at the school.”
“Well then, jumping clodhoppers, hop on board and I’ll take you right to your horse,” invited Mr. Pitts. Without hesitation Mr. Pitts climbed up onto his odd shaped wagon, seated himself, and then scooped up the reins as he simultaneously released the wooden brake handle. Trustingly Jacob followed the stranger by carefully stepping up onto the wagon’s wooden rung.
“Giddeeeup horses,” instantly shouted Mr. Pitts with a joyous cry, shaking the reins. The wagon wobbled and lurched forward, and Jacob barely managed to hang on, as he pulled himself up to the seat. Roughly they headed back toward the schoolhouse.