OddityVille: Funko (Book Three)

Chapter Three: Tight Spaces

"Welcome! Welcome, All! Come on in and take a seat amongst your peers!" Marcus looks about the interior of the tent, counting the hanging lanterns above with purpose; Distracting himself from the man standing in the center of the stage, who continues to speak to those that pour in from outside. The tent gradually becomes louder and louder as excited guests exchange their experiences from the day with one another and eagerly await the show's beginning. "That's right, there's room for everybody! Don't be shy!"

"Where do you two want to sit?" Marcus and Phil look at each other as they continue to follow the crowd into the wooden bleachers.

"Where ever the group takes us, I guess." Marcus sighs with relief once Phil says this, now certain that they would be sitting as far from the act as possible and in the highest row.

The three take their seats and chomp away at popcorn that had been handed out upon entry, patiently awaiting the rest of the viewers to sit as well. Fae and Phil talk amongst themselves as Marcus continues to look about. The source of the music that had been haunting him for years was now in plain view. A band of six members- all with brass instruments- stand in the far corner of the tent, on a podium, and blow forcefully into the menacing tools. He scoffs at the outfits they are made to wear, which all mimic Funko, himself. A shiny black jumpsuit with purple fluff balls for buttons down the middle, a pair of white gloves that go up the sleeves, skinny, tight-toed shoes that match the buttons, white face paint with a black, round nose, thin triangles painted above and below each eye- with the points jutting away from them-, a curly, purple wig, and Funko's famous frowny face, which was also fashioned from black paint.

"Looks like that one's got a thing for you, eh, Marcus?" Phil nudges his own shoulder against Marcus and points toward the furthest right member of the band. Marcus follows his finger until his eyes meet with the trumpet player, who continues to play more aggressively than the others and pounds away with their foot against a drum pedal. He then notices that the determined member is also staring right back at him. "Any clue who's under that makeup?"

"Not at all." Marcus shivers, wishing that the clown lookalike would focus on anything besides him.

"Alright folks, who's ready to meet Funko, The Contorting Clown?" The man at center stage presses a hand against his ear, as if to hear the response of the cheering crowd more clearly. "Oh, I think we can do better than that! I said: 'Who's ready to meet Funko, The Contorting Clown?'" The crowd cheers again, nearly twice as loud as the time prior. "I thought that might be the case! So, once we're all settled down...," the man pauses as he looks over the visitors, seemingly waiting for them to go quiet, "we'll call him out! Do we know what we need to say?" The crowd cheers out a third time and the man rapidly claps in small motions. "Very good, very good! Ready?"

Marcus plugs his ears as everyone else around him recites the same phrase from the commercials. Still, the muffled voices send a chill throughout his body. Timing it in his head as best he can, he pulls his hands away from his ears.

"-might be found!"

The crowd becomes eerily quiet once they finish and only a murmur from a few can be heard as they await a response.

Another sensation takes over Marcus' body. All of his hair stands on edge as the sound of a raspy breath comes up from beneath the bleachers. His eyes widen and he allows his gaze to slowly fall toward where the sound is coming from. He gulps hard when he notices that the underbelly of the seats is too dark to see, being both relieved and nervous. He then leans forward in an effort to get a better look, but as he does so a large number of loud pops coming from all around him jolts him upright again. In an instant, popcorn is shooting high into the air and dropping back to the ground. Another pop sounds out and the snack he had been given was sent soaring as well.