A Thousand Beautiful Bloosms

“Don’t lift those Dickie.”

“Why don’t you go eat your lunch, Dickie?”

“Always excuses.” Muttered the little boy with hair as black as a panther’s pelt, eyes as blue as the sky, and dressed in form-fitting, red, yellow, and green attire.  He pulled at his emerald tights to loosen them as he marched angrily to the storage tent that housed all the food, water, and other supplies the entertainers needed. 

He was able to cross the circus grounds completely undetected by the other performers as they all busied themselves with practices for their circus acts. Their lack of acknowledgment did not go unknown to the boy and his heart felt heavy by the time he made it to the storage tent - alone. There was a time when little Dickie was all anyone could talk about. He use to be the center of attention and there was not a place he could go without someone calling out his affectionate nickname. But just recently there had been a shift in the mood at the circus. 

It had started after Mr. Haley, the ringmaster, had gathered everyone for a very important, emergency meeting. At least, that’s what the old man called it. Dick’s parents told him to stay in their trailer, but of course he would have nothing of that. So the curious young lad snuck into the back of the main performance tent where the meeting was being held. He could not understand most of the big words Mr. Haley used, but he did pick up on the words “money” and “in trouble.” How an entire circus could be in trouble, Dick would never know, but he assumed everyone was on edge because they did not want to be punished. He hated being punished, so he could relate to that. Still, he wished Mr. Haley would stop being mad at them so they would play with him again. 

when ur homie’s lung collapses