Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

lowering my voice and speaking in a stage whisper, imagining that that was the way they preferred it be said. Give it that I Love Adventure twist.
    »After visualizing your possibilities you may decide that you are ready to outside your inside,« he said. »Let me know.«
    »Definitely.«
    He slid off down the hall as if he’d greased his shoes. When I turned my attention back to the parlour I heard the ringleader still going on and on about shit and the need to burrow through it. As you might have guessed I’m not much of a fudge queen so while he elaborated on his fantasia I ran my peepers over the rest of the parlour. There were some props on the far side of the room, and they didn’t ease my restless mind. Lying on the far side of the circle, I saw several long wooden paddles, too small to be oars but too long to be fraternity memorabilia. In the corner of the room was a steel cage big enough for a Great Dane currently available to let. Two looped ropes hung down from the ceiling; they’d been attached with big u-bolts and looked like they’d support considerable weight. To my mind, none of this really bode well. On the mantlepiece, placed between two silver candelabra, was a twice-life size bust of someone I assumed to be Doctor Oscar; at least the bust vaguely resembled the photograph I’d seen on the brochure. Couldn’t tell what the bust was made of from where I sat but it looked like it’d been moulded by second shift cooks out of grainy chopped liver.
    »What does an adult use?« the ringleader started shouting.
    »Two feet only!« the group shouted back.
    »What do children say?«
    »Diaper me!«
    »What do you tell them?«
    »Take pain and like it!«
    The top of the ringleader’s head shone like a wet rock as he started heating up. Figured he’d work himself into some kind of preacher riff at any moment now, and I was starting to think he might be good at it. Good enough to empty the wallets of the congregation, at least.
    »If you have to turn on the freeze to make your child undependent on you, how low do you go?«
    »Subzero!«
    The ringleader stopped rotating. Paused as if to catch his breath but it was easy to see he had plenty to spare. His audience seemed to be getting with it, somehow – it was all I could do to keep from laughing.
    »If it’s necessary to hug someone to evoke their child, what do you do?«
    This may have been the second week but nobody acted as if they knew the drill. The sitters looked more than a little bumfuzzled. The ringleader made sure he had no expression on his kisser while they tried figuring it out. »Hug?« one of the men finally asked.
    »Zingo!«
    The ringleader lifted him out of his chair and gave him a real rib-cracker, slapping his back as if whacking on a tom-tom. He started grinning like the acid was kicking in, and I wondered if the ringleaders were the ones who most often used nature’s helping hands in their acts on cue.
    »If it’s necessary to kiss someone to make them outside their inside, what do you do?«
    »Kiss them,« another man, more at ease, piped up.
    »Zingo!«
    The ringleader chose not to kiss that particular good student. He scooted off in the opposite direction and planted a big juicy one on the loveliest lovely in the circle, a tall blonde in a red shift. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and went wild with the dramatic pauses.
    »If you have to beat the living shit out of a no-nothing,« he said, »to drag their child to sunlight, what do you?«
    That seemed to bring everybody up short. The ringleader pulled a stopwatch out of his pocket, clicked it and eyed the dial. »Five,« he said. »Four. Three. Two. One.«
    Silence, no more than ten seconds’ worth.
    » You stupid fucking assholes!!« the ringleader began screaming. »Assholes!! Every goddamned one of you!« His face turned beet-purple. »Fucking stupid assholes!!«
    It was like watching some poor soul getting set to take a sidewalk dive and listening to everybody in the audience shouting jump, jump, jump. The ringleader cursed like a sailor for two full minutes, spitting in the face of guys twice his size as he sputtered away, shouting at the women until every one of them, and three of the men, were crying. Finally, he ran out of breath, and stood in the centre of the circle, huffing and puffing, looking like he could really use a cigarette.
    »Child response, no,« he said. »Adult response, yes. One more time. If you have to beat the living shit out of a no-nothing