Can only fit so much on the pic!
Bump post: decided Iâd write a raunchy fanfic with each bump post line by line. Stay tuned.
One day you roll up to the downtown core. You heard from a buddy that thereâs a cool new bar with an interesting show. Itâs a juggler from Cirque du Soleil, and you wonder what the heck they could be doing here? Is this their hometown, and theyâre moonlighting gigs? You decide to walk in and check it out. A cirque du soleil performance for the price of a beer sounds decent, no?
Walking in you can see him, a juggler currently twirling poi, on fire and dangerously close to the curtains on the stage. His reckless disregard for basic fire safety protocol and a lack of firehydrants or clearly marked exits in this pub sends a rush of adrenaline into your systemâŠ
You watch as he finished his poi act and rouses the audience for applause. The cheers and whistles were dying down when he reached for his next act, a diabolo. It glistened as he whipped the two sticks, cracking the kevlar string blackened by the lick of the flames. You see familiar elements, some basic trapeze tricks, slack whips catching the behemoth yoyo. You go to the bar to get a top up on your Blue Moon, when you hear another wave of clapping. You turn your head when the music picks up its pace and the juggler began their final act for the night.
They whip out a yoyo. Raw, glistening in the light, but the tone is off, its not aluminumâŠ
Unwound, he pinches at its undersized curves and snapping his fingers against his palm, thick as bratwursts yet nimble like slimjims, immediately maneuvering his throw into a hidemasa hook. He pops up another quick rotation of the arm like a Snoop in double time into a Beef hook. Then bouncing the throw back and forth catching them like zichen liu to the beat of Katy Perryâs firework in the background. At that moment you felt like the furthest thing from a plastic bag. Seeing this passion and flow from the performer made you feel like a reusable plastic bag.
The music ends and so does his freestyle. You clap and cheer, excited that you werenât watching around-the-worldâs and boingy boings for 10 mins. Turning back to your drink, you over hear someone 3 seats down to the left talking about their political party of choice. Getting upset with some of their misguided âfactsâ, you recall a scathing facebook post concerning their party of choice and prepare to engage in hearty debateâwhen you feel the chair to your right pulled back.
âYou look rather perturbed." they remark, as they pull in the chair behind them, resting their elbows on the bar, one foot up on the stool with the other resting on the floor by the tips of their toes. Yuh
