Fizzlebert Stump Read Free

called cupboard love.
    Fish was a sort of friend to everyone at the circus, whether you lived there or were just visiting, so long as you had fish in your pockets. Fizzlebert didn’t have any fish in his pockets and so after a few minutes Fish waddled off to look for someone who did, but not before letting out a moist fishy burp right in Fizz’s face.
    Just then a voice called his name from inside the caravan.
    He recognised the voice immediately: it was his mum. She was leaning out of the caravan doorway, looking at him sat below her on the steps. She was halfway through washing her face (the left half was still painted, the right half was clean) and she held a damp sponge in her hand. (If you’ve never seen a clown halfway in or out of his or her makeup, then I must say it’s a weird sight. You know what a clown looks like, yes? And you know what a normal person looks like? Well, stick half of one face next to half of the other face and you’ll see what I mean. Odd.)
    ‘Fizz?’ she called.
    ‘Yes, Mum?’
    ‘What was all that noise just now? It sounded like voices?’
    ‘It was just some kids, Mum,’ Fizz said.
    ‘Some kid’s mum? What did she want?’
     

     
    ‘No, not some kid’s mum, Mum. Some kids, Mum.’
    ‘That’s what I said darling,’ she said, not really paying attention to his punctuation. ‘What did she want? We’re not the lost child desk. Did you tell her where it was?’
    When Fizz’s mum had taken off her clown makeup and costume she stopped being funny. In fact, she was quite a serious woman most of the time. Not too serious to laugh, but serious enough to know that not everything is a joke. But right now with her makeup half on and half off, Fizz couldn’t tell if she was trying to be funny or not.
    ‘No, Mum. It wasn’t anyone’s mum. It was just a bunch of kids who saw me and came over.’
    ‘Oh, what did they want? Did you tell them this isn’t the lost property desk?’
    ‘They didn’t want the lost property desk, Mum. They came and said how good they thought the lion trick was this evening.’
    ‘Oh, did you and Charles do your act tonight?’
    ‘Yes, Mum. Didn’t you see it?’
    ‘No, I was trying to put the collapsing clown car back together, ready for the finale. You know how much trouble I have with that.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Fizz. He was a little upset that his mum hadn’t watched his death-defying stunt with the lion. Of course, he knew she’d seen it before and, of course, they both knew it wasn’t actually death-defying on account of the rubber false teeth, but all the same, he felt a little deflated. Any normal mum would watch her son put his head in a lion’s mouth and be proud, wouldn’t she? Any normal mum would have stuck up for her son when he was being teased.
    But he had the feeling that if she’d come out when she’d heard the noise and told the kids off for calling him names and taking the mickey, they would’ve laughed at her even more than they’d laughed at him. When a clown tries to be strict it always looks funny. People always laugh. And those kids would’ve been rolling on the ground clutching their sides, pointing at her and at him.
    And knowing her, she would’ve thought they were laughing because they thought she was funny. But there are two ways of being funny, of making people laugh: one is by doing funny things on purpose (telling a joke or being a part of a comedy routine), and the other is by having people think you look ridiculous.
    They were plain mean kids, it had turned out, and his mum would’ve just embarrassed him even more. If only he had a normal mum, who dressed in normal clothes that he could be seen in public with without everyone staring and pointing. But she loved being a clown, he knew. It meant a lot to her.
    ‘They liked the show?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, I think so,’ he said.
    ‘They thought you were good?’
    ‘They thought I was good, yeah.’
    ‘Did they mention the clowns?’
    ‘The clowns?’ he