Day 359: A Circus Peanut Through The Nose

S.P. Jones’ laugh was raw and childlike, with enough kinetic energy to light a Walmart. He was also a big milk drinker so, for at least 3 years, my daily goal was to make him laugh hard enough that it came out of his nose.

The timing of such a feat is critical. If your attempt is premature, the laugh might come before the trap is set. The joke must start while the milk is in the mouth, and finish before it’s swallowed. With only a two second window, funny noises and quick physical antics were preferred over language.

The two Fs, farts and falls, were my main moves. I usually stuck to one or the other. Combining them required the error-prone coordination of two distinct physical acts and, except for a grown man barfing in a jumpy castle, nothing looks more awkward and pathetic than a botched falling fart. If my timing was precise and execution flawless, the faucet would flow.

Unfortunately, I can’t claim responsibility for S.P’s greatest, most memorable laugh. That honor belongs to a circus lion in Barcelona.

My mom, S.P., and I had just finished applauding the “Elephant Standing on Something Tiny” routine, when my dad returned to our seats holding a bag of giant orange circus peanuts. “Guys, look what I found!” he said, holding them high above his head. Any other time, everyone’s reaction would have been, “Um, gross,” but after 8 months of experiencing the culture and wisdom of a civilization thousands of years older than our own, we all sort of needed to see those circus peanuts – The Uncle Sam of food.

We passed them around as a tamer and two male lions pranced into the ring. While one of the lions stood motionless on a pedestal, the other walked to the side of the ring, stopping right in front of us. During what I could have sworn was a casual yawn, the beast lifted his hind leg and unleashed a frothy, steaming gush of urine so forceful that it  splashed the front row from 10 feet away. I would have assumed that such a powerful release would be brief. Instead, this flow maintained it’s intensity long enough that the front row was able to take cover before it was over.

S.P. had just that moment finished chewing, but hadn’t yet swallowed one of the orange foam peanuts. We turned to each other, our wild eyes acknowledging that this was the best thing we’d ever seen in our short lives. S.P.’s body shook like a funny car anticipating a green light. He attempted to release his pent-up laugh without opening his mouth. The force of his joy pushed the gooey contents up through his sinuses and out through his nose. Unlike milk, which comes at a nice steady pace, the orange paste only peeked-out from his nostril for a moment before he was able to snort it back into his throat. He contained himself long enough to swallow, then howled with his mouth wide open, his teeth smattered with unswallowed orange globs.

Our laughter only became more uncontrollable as the lion continued to piss and the rest of the crowd stared in morbid curiosity – some at the lion, and others at the two teenage boys loving it like only teenage boys can.

S.P. and I cackled for at least 10 minutes after the lion had finished his business and moved on to jumping through hula hoops. For the next three months, the two Fs were replaced by a well-timed utterance of the words, “Hey, remember at the circus when that lion …”  Cue the milk.