Tightrope Walker-man & Stilt-Boy
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Everyone Grab Your Tackle... We're Going Fishing

 

When the circus came to the sleepy fishing town of Johnsonsville, everyone was in high spirits. It was a time of jubilation. There was much jube and singing in the streets as residents played ‘Celebration’ by Kool & the Gang louder than it should ever be played.

But, as the Big Top was raised, so were the alarms. The local fishermen had all had their prize tackle stolen, and they had banded together as an angry lynch mob to find the culprit. Pointing the blame was easy, it had to be one of the outsiders, didn’t it? No one from Johnsonsville could possibly do such a thing.

So the Carnies were under heavy attack. Luckily, this was no ordinary circus, this was Pinkies Three Ring Circus, and it was time for them to pull out the big guns…

****************

Our two hero’s had decided to relax and enjoy the sea breeze by partaking in the local sport… fishing. They dangled their poles off the end of the pier in the hope of catching something. It wasn’t long until the fish started biting.

“Are you sure this is tuna, Stilty?” Asked Tightrope Walker-Man, holding up a small, ugly fish by the tail. It looked solemnly at Stilt-boy as it swung back and forth and gasped for breath.

“Ahhh, yeah… sure it is.” Said Stilt-boy, stifling a chuckle. “I know it looks small, but it’s just the perfect size for sushi.”

“Are you sure? It looks suspiciously like a Toadie. I think I saw one up the pier that had been left behind by another fisherman.”

“Well, it must have fallen out of his pocket or something, because no fisherman in his right mind would throw away a perfectly good sushi tuna like that one.”

“Gee, Stilty,” said Tightrope Walker-Man, “you really know a lot about fishing. Oh damn… I haven’t got time for sushi tonight, I promised Dave the Lion Tamer that I’d help oil his whip. Do you want the sushi tuna?”

“Ahhh, no… I’m… um… allergic to tuna.” Stilt-boy fumbled. “You should put it in the freezer and have it tomorrow.”

“Yeah, ok.”

Suddenly, there was a panicked cry from behind them. “ Guys! Guys! There’s trouble up at the circus!”
Tightrope Walker-Man and Stilt-boy dropped their poles and spun around to see Rodger the Clown come bounding down the pier towards them with a mobile phone to his ear.

Rodger the Clown stopped running and covered his eyes. “Whoa, Tightrope Walker-man, put that thing away!”

Tightrope Walker-man furrowed his brow, confused.

Rodger the Clown covered the receiver on the mobile phone and mumbled, “I’m scared of toadies.”

“Toadie… I knew it!” Tightrope Walker-man scowled at Stilt-boy and dropped the toadie back into the water.

Stilt-boy quickly changed the subject. “What’s this you say about trouble, Rodger?”

“There’s an angry mob of fisherman up there.” Rodger the Clown listened as someone on the other end of the phone gave him more information, then said, “They say someone has licked their tackle!” There was an angry shout from the phone and Rodger said, “Oh, sorry, they say someone has nicked their tackle!”

“Quick, Stilty, grab your pole and Rodger the Clown! We’ve got a mystery to solve!”

****************

As Tightrope Walker-man and Stilt-boy approached the circus fence they could plainly see that the towns jube of the previous day had well and truly dissipated. The angry mob’s shouts mingled and became one indecipherable growl as they pushed against the chain-link fence. Behind the fence was Dave the Lion Tamer, holding his chair up to the crowd and cracking his whip.

Tightrope Walker-man took a chance at trying to calm down the disgruntled fishermen. “Hey fella’s… fella’s… c’mon guys, let’s try to settle down a little… fella’s?”

The angry mob took no notice of him and continued their verbal tirade.

“Hey, wankers!” Stilt-boy shouted, “listen up or I’ll take whatever tackle you got left and shove it down your throats!”

With that, the angry mob of fisherman turned towards Tightrope Walker-man and Stilt-boy. “That’s gonna be a problem since whoever nabbed our tackle hasn’t left us any for you to shove down our throats.” Piped a particularly grizzly looking fisherman.

Tightrope Walker-man stepped up to the plate. “Yeah, well Stilty and I have enough tackle to fill everyone’s throats. Don’t we, Stilty?”

“Ah… Yeah. Whatever.”

“Now, listen up,” Tightrope Walker-man announced, “we’re going to get to the bottom of this mystery. It’s not fair to blame all of us carnies for this tackle theft. If it was one of us, it was only ONE of us. And let’s not discount the possibility that it wasn’t one of us. One of you could be just as tackle hungry as any of us carnies. Isn’t that right, Stilty?”

“Um… I’d like to be left out of this discussion from now on, if you don’t mind.”

“Ok then… whatever,” said a confused Tightrope Walker-man, turning back to address the mob.

“Now, does everyone have a picture of their tackle? It’ll make it easier to find and we can get the tackle back to the right person. I’m sure you don’t want to be walking around with someone else’s tackle.”

“We have plenty of pictures of what we catch with our tackle,” said the grizzly looking fisherman, “but why would we have pictures of our tackle? Who’s interested in seeing those pictures?”

“Well, I’m interested in seeing pictures of your tackle, for one,” said Tightrope Walker-man. “Can you describe what was stolen?”

“Yeah, my wiggly purple lure and a couple of sinkers.”

“Ok, I need written descriptions of everyone’s tackle.” Tightrope Walker-man ordered. “Pictures are even better. Rodger the Clown, get these people pens and paper, Stilty and I will go see if we can find anything suspicious.”

****************

“I’ll have a Rexy’s Lunch Box,” Tightrope Walker-man said to the man at the Fish & Chip shop. “What do you want, Stilty?”

“I’ll have Rexy’s Fisherman’s Feast,” requested Stilt-boy, looking up at the board. “…and a chicko roll. Thanks.” Stilt-boy turned to Tightrope Walker-man, “You know, the fishermen will be angry if they find out we went to the Fish & Chip shop instead of searching for their tackle.”“Who cares, I’m hungry,”

Tightrope Walker-man looked over to the corner of the room and noticed a solitary figure, sitting eating lunch. “Wow, Stilty,” he whispered, “is that Rex Hunt?”

“Maybe,” said Stilt-boy. “hey, let’s go punch him in the dick for that whole ‘yibbidy-yibbida’ thing.”

“Are you nuts?! I’m going to get him to sign my lunch box!” Tightrope Walker-man exclaimed excitedly.

Tightrope Walker-man snatched up his lunch box, threw some money at the man behind the counter, and skipped over to the man sitting in the corner. Stilt-boy picked up his food and meandered over to join him.

“Wow, hi Mr. Hunt, I’m a big fan.” Tightrope Walker-man gushed.

“Yeah, thanks mate, yibbidy-yibbida.” Said Rex Hunt, quietly pushing his large tackle box further under the table with his foot.

Stilt-boy, cringing at the dreaded words, noticed something odd about Rex Hunt. “Umm, Tightrope Walker-man…”

“Can I have your autograph, Mr.Hunt?” Tightrope Walker-man ignored Stilt-boy.

“Yeah, sure guy, yibbidy-yibbida.” Said Rex Hunt.

“Umm, Tightrope Walker-man…” Stilt-boy insisted, tugging at Tightrope Walker-man’s cape.

“Not now, Stilty! I’m talking to a celebrity.”

“Yeah, but that’s not really Rex Hunt.” Stilt-Boy exclaimed. “It’s someone wearing a Rex Hunt mask.”

“I’m so sorry about my friend, Mr. Hunt.” Tightrope Walker-man apologised. “Ignore him, he’s a bit…simple.”

“But look, his hair is made of rubber and it’s coated in a really shit shade of grey paint.” Said Stilt-boy.

“Nah, mate, it’s real shit hair.” Rex Hunt picked up his tackle box and started backing away from Tightrope Walker-man and Stilt-boy. “Anyway, yibbidy-yibbida, that’s all folks, I should get going now.”

As he turned to leave, the latch on the tackle box caught the edge of the table and flicked open. The tackle box dropped open, spilling its contents over the floor. A wiggly purple lure slid across the floor came to rest at Tightrope Walker-man’s feet.

Tightrope Walker-man picked up the lure and examined it, “Wow, this could be just like that grizzly looking fisherman’s lure. Can I buy this from you Mr. Hunt?”

“Holy duh, Tightrope Walker-man,” exclaimed Stilt-boy, “this isn’t Rex Hunt, it’s the tackle thief!”

The impostor Rex Hunt went to run but, before he could get very far, Stilt-boy went flying towards him, stilts first, striking him in the chest and sending him crashing through the glass windows of the fish & chip shop. The impostor Rex Hunt slid across the pavement outside and came to a rest in a pile of broken glass. Groaning in pain, he struggled to his feet.

“I know you’re not really Rex Hunt, but…” Stilt-boy punched the impostor Rex Hunt hard in the lunch box, “… that’s for the friggin yibbidy-yibbida’s!”

As the impostor Rex Hunt doubled over in pain, clutching his package, Stilt-boy ripped off the Rex hunt mask.

“Holy bag of crushed nuts…” Stilt-boy exclaimed and he and Tightrope Walker-man finished the sentence in tandem, “It’s… Dr. INNUENDO!”

“I should have known,” said Stilt-boy, “there’s been far too many double entendre’s flying around lately, it had to be you!”

“What do you mean?” Asked Tightrope Walker-man.

“All the dick references… and the sudden appearance of Rodger the Clown. I haven’t seen that guy in months, and all of a sudden… Bang! Rodger the Clown!” said Stilt-boy.

“Ohhhhhh…” Tightrope Walker-man realised, “I said all that stuff about shoving our tackle down the fishermen’s throats.”

“Yeah… come to think about it, it’s not so surprising that I didn’t realise it was Dr. Innuendo sooner.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tightrope Walker-man.

“You say that kind of shit all the time.,” said Stilt-boy, “you just don’t realise.”

“What?”

Stilt-boy changed the subject, “What I don’t understand is why. Why’d you do it, Dr. Innuendo?”

Dr. Innuendo started to cry. “You think this is easy for me, causing all this innuendo? Sure, it was funny at first, but before long you start feeling like you’re in some shit-house British sit-com… then it just gets really sad. I just wanted to get away from it all… start a new life… and being a fisherman sounded like fun. But all the fishermen around here had really good tackle and the fish just weren’t interested in my little worm. So I stole their tackle.”

“Why did you have to steal all their tackle? Wouldn’t some have done the trick?” asked Tightrope Walker-man.

“I couldn’t stand the competition.” sobbed Dr. Innuendo.

“Look, why don’t you just get out of town,” Said Stilt-boy, “be a fisherman somewhere else. There’s plenty more fish in the sea. We’ll take this stuff back to the fishermen and say you got away.”

“You’d do that for me?” wimpered Dr. Innuendo.

“As long as you don’t cause any more trouble.”

“Yeah…” Tightrope Walker-man piped in, “we should really get back to help Rodger the Clown. He’s probably had a gut-full of sea men by now.”

Stilt-boy raised his brow at Tightrope Walker-man and said nothing.

“What?” A look of realisation washed over Tightrope Walker-man’s face, “Ohhhh… right.”