Mr. Beluga couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw an oversized poster hanging on the wall of the neighborhood grocery store. How come he was learning about it only then? “After my dead body,” he ground his teeth and spat out behind his shoulder.
“Whoa, whoa, Mr. Beluga, careful with this phlegm, eh!” A tiny figure arose on the pavement.
“Pretending to be a sniper, are you?”
“Mr. Wand! I didn’t see you there, please forgive me!” the big gentleman curtsied graciously.
“I was here the whole time while you were reading the poster!” Mr. Wand pouted his mouth in a scolding manner, but very quickly his face brightened up and he gave Mr. Beluga a fraternising nudge on the hip, because he wouldn’t have reached any higher—the difference in height between those two being more than thirty centimetres. “Looks promising, no? I need to prepare my act.”
“It’s not worth a penny of your time! I’d rather scrape fossilised chewing gums off the pavement, or chop twenty kilograms of onion in one go, than participate in this!” Mr. Beluga’s nose blew off steam loudly, like an angry choo-choo train.
“Mr. Beluga, why are you snorting like some horse on innocent passersby?” It was Mrs. Janina in a pink suit, her blonde wig freshly brushed and styled.
“Mrs. Janina! Did you teleport yourself here? I haven’t registered your arrival, I’m terribly sorry!” Mr. Beluga blushed crimson and bowed in front of the elegant neighbour.
“Ay, Mr. Beluga, she has been standing here for a while already. What is wrong with you today?” Mr. Wand shook his head pityingly.
“Are you up to no good, gentlemen? What is this about?” the lady nodded towards the poster. “Can’t read it without my glasses.”
“It’s about a casting for the Torture Poets Department. They are looking for new members. I know I’m going!” the little man did a little twirl followed by a light hop.
“Well, well, what are my ears hearing! And when is it happening? I shall consider showing up there as well.”
“It’s in two weeks. I didn’t know you were a poet, Mrs. Janina.”
“Yapping about it right and left doesn’t make you more of a poet, Mr. Beluga. Something to consider,” the lady smiled at him sweetly.
“Good luck to you both then. I am most definitely not going. I find the quality and intentions of that… circle highly questionable.”
“You’re only mad because you’ve been trying to get in for years and they never let you!” Mr. Wand giggled.
“That is simply not true, Mr. Wand, please don’t throw such slander! In the past I have, in fact, inquired about the membership and I have been told they were not admitting any new joiners. They never rejected me, though! I have since lost all my interest in this… circus.”
“Circus, hm? And why have you changed your mind about them?” Mrs. Janina examined the bald round head with its handful of leftover hairs, small sparkly eyes and a micro moustache cuddling perfectly cut lips that seemed designed specially for kisses and soft whispers.
Mr. Beluga paused and looked around, wondering if there was any way he could get away from the two neighbours without coming off as rude or embarrassed. An escape appeared to be futile, so the man sighed and gathered all his forces to face the cross-examination.
“Are you, my dear friends, aware what are the said… department’s practices?”
“I heard a thing or two, here and there. Why, what do you know, Mr. Beluga?” the short man took off his hat to be able to hear better.
“Tell us, Mr. Beluga. You make it sound so sinister. You have a soft spot for drama, don’t you? I always knew that!” Mrs. Janina tapped her neighbour’s shoulder.
“If you actually knew what those noble members of that prestigious club engage in, you would never consider going to the casting…”
Mr. Wand and Mrs. Janina exchanged meaningful glances.
“Stop with the allusions and the suspense; we don’t have the whole day! Just spill the beans already,” the small man rubbed his hands in a down-to-business gesture.
“I can tell you. I will tell you!” Mr. Beluga pawed the ground with his right feet like a bull readying himself for the attack. ‘Let’s say they care too much about certain filthy aspects of ancient Greek culture and Masonic rituals. To make things worse, they also have a soft spot for slapstick comedy and stand-up. But I guess that’s what torture in their name signifies.”
An awkward silence fell, followed by a loud honking of a delivery truck getting impatient behind a little beat-up Fiat driven by an old man wearing thick glasses and a flat cap.
“So you’ve known it all along and yet you’ve repeatedly tried to join them?” Mrs. Janina raised her pencil-drawn eyebrow.
“It’s my past, it calls from time to time. I try to control it, but sometimes I fail.”
“Your past?” Mr. Wand glanced at Mrs. Janina to check if she too was not following.
Mr. Beluga sighed melancholically.
“I was an evil baby, you see.”
“An evil baby? What is that, now?”
“I was born with teeth,” the man opened his mouth—two of his incisors missing. “Don’t mind the holes; lost some of my pearls in a pub brawl after a successful ice skating competition. Not meaning to brag… Where was I? Ah yes, my mother, she used to say that I had sucked out all her joy and life forces when she had been breastfeeding me and that is why I had grown so big. Learning that made me feel trapped in this oversized body. I tried to find comfort in colourful clothes and frivolous patterns; I got interested in fashion and tailoring, but since my mother did not approve of any of that, I had to stop. And she was right about it, I suppose. Thanks to her, I grew up sensible, finished school and landed a proper job with a stable income. And I’m a respectable citizen now. I hope you agree.”
Both neighbours nodded politely.
“Those… friends of Dorothy, you see, they engage in wild orgies, satanic games, and pranks in poor taste. It may look intriguing from the outside, but it’s pure moral decay and nihilism. You shouldn’t want to have anything to do with it. Those people are not happy.”
“Not happy! Last time I checked, they enjoy themselves splendidly!” Mr. Wand’s face took a grim turn. That neighbour of his! Such a party pooper for someone looking like a happy balloon.
“Babies are not evil, Mr. Beluga. Parents can be. Or at least lost and troubled,” Mrs. Janina put her hand on the big man’s shoulder. “I have always noticed your elegant ways. You have an impeccable taste. It seems to me you have not wholly abandoned your passions. Wish to see more of it,” her eyes sparkled. “Maybe you change your mind and join us at the casting. Or help me with my costume, at least”
A warm breeze was blowing in their backs. Twenty meters away, men in orange suits started to mow a meadowy lawn, executing majestic domes of dandelion clocks, which sent out millions of tiny fluffy propellers in the air.
“Achoo!” the little man’s body bent over to form a ninety degree angle.
“Mr. Wand, what a prefect little sneeze you let out!” Mrs. Janina cheered. “This could be part of your show!”
“Ha, I’m glad you liked it. Indeed, it has crossed my mind to incorporate a sneezing gun salute at the end of my act. Perfect season for it.”
“Marvellous idea! We shall catch up soon and rehearse together. Were you headed to the butcher’s now? I am going there myself. I wanted to buy some bones and try to make jewellery out of them. I could wear it for the Poets.”
“Let us walk there then!” Mr. Wand assisted the lady with his arm and off they went.
Mr. Beluga watched them disappear around the corner, then looked to the right, looked to the left—and ripped down the poster.