At the fairgrounds, volunteers gather early before the crowds.
A focused Vyc can be seen intently reading a flyer while rubbing his chin,
standing by the collection of individual troupe tents. After he is finished,
he gives a self-assured nod to himself, as if to confirm his comprehension.
Then, he finally notices you and the rest of the volunteers waiting patiently for his direction.
Smiling at you, then folding the paper into his back pocket, he waves hello,
and walks closer to everyone so that he could properly greet and address the group.
“Hey folks! Glad you could make it. I’m not sure how great I’ll be at organizing this volunteer stuff, but I’ll try my best
not to overload anyone.” Placing his arm behind his head, he begins scratching at his neck and his eyes showing hints of guilt,
trail off sideways. “Sorry, I don’t have much of the details yet of exactly what we are doing? I THINK we are waiting
for a member of the troupe to find our group and give us direction?...”
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For the average person, it would be truly an honor, one that brings excitement- to meet and greet a member of the
famous troupe. Let alone help them physically set up for the ‘show of a lifetime’. Vyc however, seems rather unfazed,
though not necessarily disinterested.
"I swear I have been waiting for years. Where on Earth, are MY volunteers?”
A young girl, who stands no more than 4’10” and dressed in full berry colored, clown garb, exits her mint hued
tent and begins pacing in circles while flailing her arms at seemingly nothing but pure agitation.
Looking slowly back to you and the group, Vyc gives a skeptical and concerned smirk.
“I believe that is our cue.”
Vycs optimism unintentionally falls flat. You all begin to approach the fuming clown, hearing her angst crescendo
as you get closer. Vyc stops just short of communicative distance from her to address you all once more.
“Virgil gave me solid advice once..... and that was to ‘never, ever meet your heroes'.Soooooo,
I hope that doesn’t apply to any of you here, heh….I’ll handle the little hot head. Just kick it back for now,
while I try to, uh- chill her out.”
Before the group or Vyc had realized, she was already staring them down. Arms crossed and nose up in a judgmental
demeanor that only thickened the air of her impatience and high expectations that were to be delivered.
Rhythmically tapping her toes, as if counting the seconds down it takes Vyc to initiate.
"You with the tattoos. Is it I, you’re here to amuse?”
She asks, tilting her head to the side in curiosity, eyes unwavering from Vyc’s.
Giving a sigh that with it releases any preconceived judgments, Vyc extends his hand down to the clown girl so to
convey a respectful gesture.
“Yes, hey there. Name’s Vyc. I have a group of volunteers with me as well.”
He takes a single step backward to half turn and point in your general direction.
”We’re happy to help with whatever you need. Just point us where, and we’ll be there. Heh.”
The young girl reciprocates the gesture by reaching up for Vyc’s hand to shake. She flashes a charming smile that
implies both innocence and also mischief. Shaking their entwined hands with excessive vigor- she successfully startled Vyc.
He rolls his eyes and sheepishly smiles; understanding she is playing her role. Quickly releasing her hand from his,
she twirls on her toes so to face away from the group. Clears her throat. Then quickly spins back around and assertively points at Vyc.
This time, the extent of a reaction from him was simply to raise a brow.
"Call me Constance the clown. My wit, cannot let you down.
Permit me to practice on you, my favorite riddles. For I must test to see if your minds are fit as fiddles.”
"What kind of labor based volunteer work, requires a sharp intellect?”
Vyc’s question was meant to be to himself but he ended up muttering too loudly. He scratches at his neck
while trying to organize his thoughts on the matter.
Rolling her eyes and giving a quick smirk to the volunteers who are presently covering their mouths,
Constance smacks her own forehead in exaggerative disappointment.
"The kind that requires you to be on your toes and not fall for silly tricks, ya redneck.”
The volunteers who were successfully stifling their giggles now break out in a full laugh. Confused on why he was called a redneck ,
Vyc shrugs his shoulders and hands up as if he was saying 'What gives?' But as he did so, he then noticed his hands stained with
red ink, and it then also clicked that he stained his neck by scratching at it. An old trick, in an old book.
Vyc gives a sappy ‘ah-ha, you caught me. Ok. Ok. Moving on.’ Using only body and hand gestures,
as it was pointless to speak over the laughter. Constance begins to pace, as if it is a necessity to compile her thoughts,
and not doing so would prevent coherent communication. With every rhyme she tells she would speak a little bit
faster and move a little bit more chaotic. The scuffles of dirt and rocks beneath her very large shoes, layered with the
squeaks of her rubber soles in an absolutely obnoxious display.
"The mentally inferior shall not work for me! I have a business to run, I must earn my fee! If you were to
be dumb, how could I trust you? Might as well do it myself, dirty my own shoe. Take the challenge or stop wasting my time.
Every moment has a value, nickel and dime.” Constance suddenly stops pacing, and rushes over to climb on top of a wooden
crate placed by her tent. Now, barely standing taller than Vyc she points her index finger to his forehead.
His face is blank, but not from annoyance. "Stand up to the plate and accept your mission, soldier!
But try not to take too long, I’ll get bored and grow much older.”
It quickly becomes evident to Vyc and and everyone else, there likely isn’t any real work to do here.
This young performer is simply excited to have a group of henchmen to command around and entertain her every whim.
Vyc turns to you, giving a friendly but semi-strained sarcastic look of ‘oh-how-exciting’.
He excuses himself to Constance for just a moment as he approaches the group again and starts muttering under his breath:
"I wouldn’t have signed up if I knew it was babysitting duty. Buuuuuut a jobs a job, so let’s pucker up and show
the kid what we got and solve her riddles..... We DID say we would help in anyway that we can, right?”
You aren’t sure if Vyc’s question is actually to you, or an out loud thought for himself. You come to terms that it is likely both,
and prepare yourself for Constance's challenge.
