The twang of the guitar, subtle crackle of fire while the moonlight slowly stroked the peak of the mountain, sang the angel voice of the cowboy. He sang a song about a guy whose face was painted like a clown. But he was very sad.
“The clown cried. Horse ride; then the bucking bull and all while the flags flied, the clown cried because he was sad at his miserable life.”
“That song sucks Clayton. Sing the better one. About Jiggly Joe.”
Eve tossed Clayton a frothy beer. The smooth, erotic taste of the IPA changed Clayton’s mood. Strumming the guitar and howling up at the night sky, he sang.
“OooooooooH Jiggly Joe!
OooooooooH Jiggly Joe!
Did you ever know about Jiggly, Jiggly, Jiggly Wiggly, Run around and get me Joe?!”
Everyone else chimed in. “Tell us about Jiggly Joe!”
“Oh he was a clown who liked to jiggle and I bet he liked to tickle
every horse and bulls behind!
Because Jiggly Wiggly, run around and get me, was a fool of a certain kind!”
They kept drinking and singing, laughing at Jiggly Wiggly. “What a stupid, catchy song!” Said Carmen.
“Jiggly Joe! Isn’t that fatphobic?” Said Devin.
“Who said he was fat? Everyone is a little jiggly right?” Flynn proceeded to rub their belly.
Eve, a person who only wore black, regardless of the temperature, a person who really plays into his made-up role of “dark mysterious DJ” interjected with an explanation. His source was Reddit.
“Apparently Jiggly Joe was exposed as just a normal guy wearing a bag of corn starch. A bull’s horn stabbed his fake belly and the cornstarch poured out. He left the rodeo after that and the next night…they found the bull’s body. The head was cut clean off and Joe…well Joe was never seen again.”
“He was ousted from the clowning community for having a fake gut?! Sometimes it’s so obvious when you read subreddit posts verbatim…” Devin called Eve’s bullshit.
“Didn’t realize clowns took themselves so seriously.” Flynn took nothing seriously.
Clayton did, however, so he stopped playing for a minute. He was the only one out of the bunch who was born and raised in Wyoming. He met everyone in college because he decided to study music in New York. He flunked out but these were some of his closest friends.
“Rodeo clown is no joke! It’s one damn dangerous profession. But that’s just an old tale told to scare kids away from being a rodeo clown. Joe is just made up.”
“Then why did hundreds of people agree on that post?”
Eve felt the skinny elbow of Flynn. “I think Clayton would know since he grew up here and we’ve never even been to a rodeo.”
Fire flickered and the moonlight was huge in the never-ending sky of the mountain lands. Where bears and bison roamed, friends sat around a fire drinking. The night was cold, but warm were the jolly tunes plucked by Clayton’s calloused fingers. While the sandman snuck up on everyone’s inebriated state, Carmen couldn’t quite get the Jiggly Wiggly song out of her head.
*****
The town shops provided excellent attire for the group; they would attend the rodeo that evening. Hats to blend in, boots to match. A little twang crept over everyone’s accent. Maybe because Clayton’s twang just had that charm to it, or maybe it formed from a desperation to not stick out like a sore thumb in Wyoming. They didn't want to be labeled as a bunch of kids from the big city, probably viewed as some liberals or something.
For Clayton, he had a giggle every time he saw Carmen’s nose flinch from the smell of the cows. Such an obvious sign of a city person. Every single one of them for that matter.
Carmen and Devin waited in the drink line while everyone grabbed the seats.
“I feel…weird here. Like they are abusing animals, you know?” Devin’s ethics were lost on Carmen who stared at the short beer list. Humming that same jingle from last night. Like a catchy ad playing on repeat. She was totally oblivious to how loud she was truly humming until an older cowboy, or least he looked like one, turned around.
“That’s one old tune, miss.”
His face had weathered many seasons in the harsh mountain lands. Seasons of rain, snow, sun, and wind, elements that danced upon the wrinkles and freckles of his skin. He had ghost white mustache hairs but shoulders still strong and capable. His ordinary shirt tucked into a belt buckle with dark blue jeans which sat over his worn boots said loudly, without speaking out loud, “I’m from these parts.”
“Hm?” said Carmen, stumbling out of her weird humming trance. “Oh that…it’s catchy right?”
“Meant to be. They haven’t played that around here in nearly thirty years. Where are you from?”
“New York.”
He glanced over at Devin. She wasn’t fond of this long-winded exchange between what she considered a boomer, and her happy-go-lucky friend. Men of that age tend to be sexually inappropriate.
He tipped his hat in the most cliché western fashion, then turned and ordered his Coors. While the frost of the can dripped onto his dirty boots, he looked down then up again, staring right at Carmen, telling her “Careful miss, hard to buck the song once it spurs in your mind.”
There was lots of bucking at the show. After a fifteen-minute tribute to freedoms and wars, the cowboys rode horses. Or tried to anyhow, but many went flying off into the dirt or worse. Flynn was enamored by the sheer brutality, cheering for the horses and bulls to kill their rider, laughing when one bull came close to doing just that.
Each time the rodeo clowns were running around and chasing the bull into the pen- Carmen was clapping and singing a song. Living in her own world while everyone else looked at her. Singing it louder and louder. “OOOOOHHHHHH JIGGGGGLY JOE!!!” She burst into hysterical laughter.
“Is she on molly again?”
“No clue.”
“Nope she’s just an idiot.” Devin poked Carmen and brought her back to reality.
“What?”
*****
Clayton made bacon and woke the whole house up with the aroma. Devin and Flynn refused to eat it and made yogurt mixed with plant-based protein instead. They all went through two pots of coffee.
“You guys excited for some hikes?! Old Faithful goes off in the next hour and a half or so, we should leave in twenty minutes.”
“It takes me twenty minutes to shit,” Flynn rubbed their belly again.
Old Faithful was just that. Right on schedule, and once the photos were taken and bison were spotted, Carmen still hummed that song. Beautiful nature with mountainous backdrops, bears from a distance, bison from a distance, all while Carmen was distant from the moment. Unable to grasp the true essence of beauty that is nature because in her mind, deep in her thoughts, played that song.
It became a nuisance for the others, seeing Carmen sing out loud like when people hear their favorite song on the radio. But there was no radio. Just Carmen singing….
“Why did you ever play that thing?” Eve pointed at Clayton’s guitar in the living room. His body language was placing blame on Clayton for Carmen’s current state.
“I wanted to sing a song I fucking wrote but you made me sing that stupid folk tale rodeo song I told you about!”
“No wonder you didn’t make it as a musician…” Eve had a bad habit of never backing off, pushing people’s buttons until they fought back.
“You’re still mad that I fucked Lizzy, aren’t you?”
“Sloppy seconds…”
“Big talk for a DJ. At least I write music! All you do is hit play.”
Devin tried to be a voice of rationality. Nobody wanted to see a fight. Just a couple of nights ago, around a fire, they all were having the best time. The vibes were golden, how could it come to this now? Especially when their flights were tomorrow, tonight needed to be cherished.
“Come on guys… let’s try to enjoy our last night here in the mountain country.”
Flynn cracked open a few cold ones and handed it to Clayton and Eve, forcing them to clink the cans, because a “cheers” of drinks should squash all conflict. It worked and the irritation between them dwindled down as the charm of the gorgeous cabin, nuzzled between mountains and hilltops, brought the sweet serenity people long for in a vacation.
Serenity was quickly shattered by Carmen’s constant humming. That song never bucked from the poor girl’s mind, riding her into complete oblivion.
“Damn it Carmen can you not?!” Eve was beyond annoyed, their eyes widened, and the glare was piercing.
“Jiggly, Wiggly” Carmen muttered under her breath looking through Eve’s glare. Staring right through it and past it into the realm where the song just…kept…playing. Now from Eve’s perspective, Carmen appeared to remain clueless as to exactly what was so annoying. This drove Eve even crazier.
Seeing Eve mad delighted Clayton. He thought it was an opportunity to push his buttons, a taste of Eve’s own medicine, reminding Eve that this whole thing really is his fault. Should have let Clayton play his original songs. He unknowingly admitted that perhaps his music isn’t catchy at all. And before Eve could retort with exactly that burn, ultimately creating another fight, Devin brought up Carmen’s radio-like brain.
“Every hit song on the radio, she sings and listens to it on repeat for weeks. This is not something new or something to even get upset about. It’s silly and y’all are ruining my last day of vacation by bitching.”
After a solid, three second loud belch, Flynn said “Yeah man music is subjective. Just chill.”
Her friends’ useless words bounced off Carmen’s ears because the song was there instead, in her mind, in her heart and in her vocal cords which continuously hummed the melody.
“Fuck this…” Eve stormed off to his bed and slammed the door. A bit dramatic but that was his tendencies. Flynn went outside for a smoke and Carmen joined him but not for the reason he had thought. Assuming it was just his company she wanted, but it wasn’t that. No, she went out there for something entirely different.
“On time all the time” was Devin’s motto, so going to sleep was calculated and that time for sleep, to Devin, was now. Now sleeping would ensure a well-rested morning prior to travel and a timely arrival well before departure.
Clayton, weeks prior, had spent hundreds of his own dollars to get some studio time. He used his time to record some of his original songs. With headphones in and some whiskey poured, he gave them a good few listens. It wasn’t catchy at all, and he hated that truth.
Now outside with Carmen, Flynn dragged the cigarette pulling a big puff like he always did. The sun still peaked around the distant mountain top while clouds from the west rolled by quickly. As quick as the plume of smoke from Flynn’s mouth. The weather moves strangely or unfamiliar to city folks out there in the western lands. It can thunderstorm in less than a minute, then peace and sunshine can roll on through even faster.
He tried to converse with Carmen. It was a meaningless dribble of what she liked the most during their little visit. It was clear what she was fond of, and it was that damn song. Although it took much to ever truly bother Flynn, he did find it strange that she was tranced by it. But that didn’t mean he invested in helping her snap out of it. Simply tossing his cigarette butt into the trash can inside, right by the patio door, he said “Welp, think it’s time to pack up for the flight. You packed yet Carmen?”
She nodded and Flynn took that as a yes, so he went inside, assuming Carmen would come back in. He was the last person to ever see Carmen.
*****
So much for sleeping early or packing up and being ready because the morning came, and Carmen was nowhere to be found. Her room was a mess, clearly not packed. They were supposed to have left ten minutes ago. Well, the ten minutes turned into hours and then quickly to days. Safe to say, not a single person caught their flight and they didn’t care anymore about that. Where the hell did Carmen go? Why would she do this? This wasn’t like her at all.
They spent days speaking to police, forming search parties, even Carmen’s parents and siblings flew in to help look. The Airbnb was about forty minutes from town, a nice drive there and back, and all around the cabin was the beauty of nature. There were hills and far-off mountains with trees and rivers and streams and life, but not a single sign of Carmen.
The last song Clayton ever wrote before giving up on music was “Come Home Carmen.” It was a sad song that gained national attention for what it was about, a missing girl in Wyoming. The song helped garner more attention to the case and soon many began to theorize and come up with stories of exactly what happened. These stories spun by internet sleuths had fingers pointed at all the friends involved. Pure conjecture and lies that pitted them against each other eventually led to the dissolving of all their friendships. They would spend the rest of their lives, never getting an answer about where Carmen had gone.
*****
Carmen nodded at Flynn but the nod wasn’t an answer to a question, it was her body’s reaction to what was going on in her mind. Her ears told her to look, look and hear the song rolling down the mountains. “OOOOOOOOH Jiggly Joe…” Reverberated off the hillside in a place where the sun no longer looked and her eyes, Carmen’s eyes, adjusted to the night. Then she adjusted her direction to the song, to the sound playing from somewhere.
It was louder the more she wandered into the unknown realm of nature in the night. The pace was speeding up…”Jiggly, Jiggly, Jiggly” so when the pace of the song sped up, so did Carmen’s feet. Running through sharp bushes, small cuts on her pants didn’t stop her, the song kept getting faster, so did Carmen.
Her smile widened, her feet were bare and bleeding but it didn’t matter because she ran like the winds of the valley. The light the girl had seen was a manifestation of her mind because of the volume of the music jingling and jangling in her skull. Loud and bright like a rodeo in the night.
A girl from the big city no more, she was wild now, in the wild west of Wyoming. Belting that tune that rang in her ears like a fan at a concert, running, singing until the light from imagination became real. Surely it was real…yes for the light was simply coming from that small cabin built into the hillside. The door, mahogany, the light from under it so bright and the song ever louder had Carmen turning the door handle. She was invited, after all, to simply sing along…
The cabin, inside, was a dirt floor with stairs made from rock leading down to where the song was being played. Each step Carmen took downward, the more the smell became nauseating but that damn jingle was just too catchy. “Jiggly, Jiggly, Jiggly” she kept repeating each step down and the smell, stunk like a butcher shop with a broken freezer that spoiled and rotted its meat.
Her foot grazed the body of a dead coyote when she reached the final step. Some other dead animals were nearby but unrecognizable from the decay. They formed a path toward something. The strobe light flickered on and showed a circle drawn in deep, red-looking blood. In the middle of the circle was a headless bull turned on its side, with the hide still thick on it. From the dead bull’s belly rose a tall, very large man wearing the skull of the bull...with horns as sharp as knives. Blood was rolling down his wide neck while he finished chewing the raw meat of the bull; he pushed it aside; out of the ring he had made. Standing naked, large, and bellowing with delight, he clapped for Carmen’s arrival.
“Yes, oh yes please sing me my song…while I prepare to perform…oh will you please? You see Jiggly Joe was Jiggly no more until I ate the beast’s flesh! So, I ate, and I ate, and I ate some more until the Jiggle could never leave! Never ever! Now sing me my song, sing me my song…”
His face could not be seen, only his eyes glowed underneath the bull’s skull he dawned on his head. He bent over and huffed and puffed like a bull would, pretending to chase a rodeo clown. Then he stopped because Carmen wasn’t singing anymore…
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Do you not like Jiggly Joe? Sing my song! Sing it along have you forgot? OOOOOOOHHHH Jiggly Joe….”
The song dug its spurs for the final time in her mind and her mouth had dried spit all around her lips from singing it this whole time. Now she sang it manically, faster and faster and faster! “Jiggly, Jiggly, Jiggly Wiggly, run around and get me Joe?!!”
Joe ran around the circle, running around while she sang the chorus louder and louder and Jiggly Joe was jiggling on purpose, quaking his belly and his body parts flailing around. He then removed his skull crown, revealing the rodeo clown makeup painted on his face with the blood of the bull still fresh on his neck and chest. He was crying.
“This is what it did to me! This is what it did!” He took the horns and stabbed his large stomach pulling the horns out while blood dripped down toward his genitals. Then again, he stabbed himself and again, screaming at Carmen. “I’m still Jiggly Joe though! I’m still Jiggly Joe!!!”
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