Circus on the moon

The night looked as black as everyday, the stars bigger than yesterday. The black night looked freckled with millions of shining stars.

Beneath it lay the huge expanse of the white cratered moon, indulging in deeper craters in some places.

One such white crater at a distance emitted a brilliant yellow orange glow, almost creating and invisible shield around the crater.

Sound of music and laughter filled the black night.

“Ah,,! Today was a splendid performance by you tavern.

The best I’ve seen in you. Cheers to that my boy!”

A man of about 60 sat there looking at tavern and raising his glass to him. His voice seemed like he’d been brushing his throat with a bark. He wore brilliant colored pin striped pants and a white shirt. His hair was loosely tied in a pony tail and his head was balding. They called him The Mudd Mew. He sat bare foot on the white surface of the moon.

“CHEERS!!”

Said the three men sitting around the crackling golden yellow fire, clanking their glasses together, carelessly spilling some wine on their shirts and their chins.

“For a moment in the middle, I thought the elipig

Would sneeze.”

Said Rupert a short man sitting on a crate. His face had aged to about 40 years yet his body remained that of a 12 year old. He sat with his hat askew and a silly grin on his face as they all appreciated the joke. His feet were in canvas slippers two inch above the ground. He wore a pale blue shirt with a frilly collar. His pants rolled up to his knees. He had a stubble of a five year old and he drooled carelessly on his frilly collar.

Everyone laughed and clanked their glasses once again in celebration. And soon after, all the excitement rolled into silence for a while as everyone stared ambitiously into the now dying out crackling fire, the cinders flying in the air, crackling at different points, the flames giving their faces an unreal feel.

The prolonged silence suddenly got interrupted by a crash in the distance. Everyone turned around to see where the commotion was coming from. Far away beyond the Heinekens cage, where it slept like a log not bothered by the flea that buzzed around his nose, was a tent with gold and green stripes and a red banner now falling. The banner read,

‘THE CIRCUS ON THE MOON’

There was a patch of blue light falling onto the ground forming a square. The sounds seemed to be coming out of there. Next to the tent stood a tall wooden pole. The top of the pole had a room. A green light dimly flickered at the window. A kew sat next to the pole, looking inside the tent. A man stumbled out of the tent. He had really long legs and a long beard. He lay flat on the ground from the stumble. His hat added a couple of inches more to the already stretched figure that lay there in the blue light. His pants were torn from the bottom. They were bright yellow in color and a streak of neon purple ran through the edges giving it a definite broad outline. His shirt was completely buttoned. His buttons of different sizes stuck out from his shirt. They were of different colors. His shirt had thin lines running parallel giving it an all together static feel.

“ HAHA..! TRUMP FELL AGAIN..! LOOK YOU BUMS,

HE’S ON THE FLOOR AGAIN..! HAHA..!”

The three men sitting around the fire erupted in great roars of laughter. Mud mew laughed so hard tears trickled down his old and weathered face. Tavern cackled like a witch and almost fell of his chair. Rupert was rolling in the ground holding his stomach and laughing.

All fell silent again. Next to them, stood the merry round go in peace. Each seat of the ride painted an eccentric color. The paint was peeling of in some places revealing the grey beneath. The ride almost looked like it had been through a time traveling machine.

Behind the ride lay the expanse of the multi colored tents, some with their lights on and some with flickering bulbs. Small wooden posts greeted the entrance of all the tents. One light went of in the distance and the wind blew.

Close to the tent stood a lamp emitting a pale glucose light, clearly lighting up the area beneath it. A birdie began to sing somewhere.

It sang in the most painful way. Rupert looked sad. He rested his chin on his hand and downed his drink.

Rupert had had a terrible day. He had fallen down during his last performance. He’d remembered the spot lights glaring down on him almost blinding him. Laughter echoed in the tent and some thing came and hit him on his nose.

Dejected he resorted to drinking away the night with tavern and madd mew. The three of them had been together for almost ion years. They’d seen each other grow, except

in Rupert’s case, not grow.