Chapter 9: Bisco Knows Not What To DO

In through the temporary darkness of the blanketing curtain, Voltari and I traipsed into another room, this one further from the room of performers, and even further from bustling ring behind us.

“This is where our catchers usually station themselves…maybe I can find one…and find out if…they’ve seen anything of our missing tiger.”

Now I knew there was more to the losing of a tiger. It wasn’t just up to Voltari and me, there were catchers - ready to be called into action.

It surprised me that this didn’t weigh on Voltari’s mind, but seemed to set him at ease, or simply motivate him to press on.

Along our route Voltari was was quickly inspecting and very nearly dismissing people as we marched. He was in search of someone in particular.

Voltari was of a formidable stature, even when in comparison with the slew of characters we encountered, both human and not.

We walked further, all the while a small set of penguins practiced a routine by sliding on their stomaches, completely autonomous of any people around us, and were arranging themselves in a triangle - ready for a group stunt.

I paused and stared at them. They were all dressed up so much so that despite their natural tuxedo-like appearance they also donned bow ties. Each one a different color.

“They do bowling maneuvers,” assured Voltari as he continued pacing through the crowd of acts.

Voltari b-lined to a group of men that must have been the group of catchers.

“Always a bother when you find a good hurler who can knock them all down,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

He stopped. And then he put a hand on my shoulder.

“Not all of us have the most glamorous job at this circus.”

This inky prognostication only cemented what I imagined a catcher would be like.

We continued past groups of people in colorful jumpsuits, donning feathered boas and looking very disinterested in the surroundings.

Voltari saw my eyes drifting towards the group.

“Tumblers,” he said.

“Don’t get paid nearly as much as they deserve. What with the aerials they do. Stunning performers. Now keep up!”

We travelled along through the back staging area of the circus where people continuously appeared to be practicing their routines - ready for the show .

Suddenly Voltari stopped dead in his tracks so suddenly that I collided with his back. I could finally feel the solidness of his frame. He was big for a professor, but maybe not so big for tiger trainer.

He let out a loud yell.

“Bisco!” He shouted

A man who was sitting on a fold out lawn chair jumped from his seat and looked as shocked as I must have looked when I first saw Voltari appear out of the darkened street in front of the apartment.

“I knew I would find you here!” Screamed Voltari.

I rubbed my smooshed nose and looked up to see Voltari had been addressing a man in what looked like a grey jumpsuit befitting a custodian.

The rest of the catchers looked like they might look. Some donned jump suits, like you may find a dog catcher wearing. Others were in torn onesies. Perhaps victims of their craft.

“Oh Voltari,” he said, half besmirched. You wouldn’t believe what they’ve got me doing these days.”

Voltari let out a chordle.

He turned to me.

“This is Bisco. The finest animal wrangler in the business.”

The man shuffled his feet, parted his greasy hair with his left hand and jutted the same hand out in front of him.

“Bisco Valtrez!” He stated affirmatively at me.

“Hi.” I said quietly unsure of what to do in this situation. I reached out a hand that met an assured shake and returned to my place behind voltari.

“Could this man remedy our current state of disrepair?” I thought.

“Back to steal another tiger for the show tonight? You know we ain’t done training them yet!” Said Bisco, his greasy hands now trained by his side.

Voltari continued.

“Oh Bisco, you know I wouldn’t have any hand in that,” he said, his hands on his hips.

Voltari turned to me and whispered, “this guy wrangles up the animals too young to perform, you know: feeds them, boards them, helps

Me train’em.”

“Not only do I have to train them, I’ve been looking after any of the lost cubs,” said Bisco.

Voltari let out an audible sigh of relief.

“I see. So you know where our little one is?”

“Is? Was. What’s the difference. I’ll be mucking stalls till I’m 95.”

Voltari was stunted.

Bisco had now taken upon the expression of a mud pie.

“Now Bisco! You know we’ve been trying to…er…we’ll see you make some vertical movement in our well…company? So to speak.”

“We’ll let’s see we’ve got…”

Bisco flipped open a small booklet and began flipping through pages.

“…Momosa, Glee, and Bertrand.”

He paused.

“No Bertrand’s been moved down south because of his temperament.”

“Oh let’s see…one unaccounted for,” he said, his tongue like a dart at the side of his mouth,

Voltari wrung his hands in anticipation.

“Pilot is the tiger you’re missing!”

Voltari shuttered with excitement.

“Yes? Yes?” Voltari Uttered beaming with joy.

“Right, Pilot has been seen in the vicinity of Farmingham, without owner, and in need of a good grooming.”

Voltari deflated like an old balloon.

“Don’t you know anything else?” He said.

Bisco closed his notebook with a satisfying thunk.

“Well that’s the thing…” he said.

“Those upstairs...”

Bisco pointed upwards toward the tent ceiling.

“Have said that you are in charge of handling that their tiger cub. As he is…”

Bisco flipped open his notebook again.

“…Ready for the stage, and well early in his life too! He’s just a few months old.”

Voltari stopped talking. He looked at me and then at Bisco, who was now picking his teeth with his forefinger.

“So….” Said Bisco.

“To answer your question. NO. I don’t know where our little one is.”

Voltari looked at me. He seemed to sigh a breathe of relief but that seemed out of context.

“Let’s go Andy…there’s nothing more of us here right now.”

I puckered up the courage to speak.

Surrounded by dancing penguins and tumblers in frilly costumes I paused and said, “where are we going?”

Voltari didn’t pause this time. He answered me right away.

“Where we need to be an hour ago.”

He looked at me.

“We’re going back from where we came…”

I gasped…

“…your school.”