{"sf1_id":881773,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Renaissance Unfaire","author":"Tigercougar","words":2446,"posted_at":"2015-07-01T22:22:00.000Z","tags":["Otter","Performer","actress","fair","monkey","story"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/881773-renaissance-unfaire","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/881773","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=881773\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"A ren faire performer verbally battles a heckler. (Language warning)","content":"\n Most\nwomen would sneer if a stranger called them a wench. Me, I curtsy and\nsay, \"Thank you for the complement, kind sir.\" Why? One, it takes\na lot more than a rude epithet to make me break down in tears. And\ntwo - well, I am\na\nwench. Don't\nget it wrong, I'm not some hussy cruising the bars to get into\nstrange men's pants. (Have I done that before, though? No comment.)\nI'm a professional. 'Wench' is my (informal) job title. And\nby that I mean I'm in the renaissance faire world. I'm a rare breed -\na traveling ren faire performer. You've got to be a little wacko to\ndo what we do. We spend tons of time on the road, traveling from\nfaire to faire, dressing up in faux sixteenth century garb. There are\ndifferent kinds of performers, people who perform written acts (like\nmyself), magicians, fire blowers. So many different kinds of people\nthat put on a show for the happiness of the people that attend our\nfaires. Am I doing it for the reasons the armchair psychologists\nwould guess, to get attention I couldn't as a child, because I want\nto spend all day playing make-believe, because my dad was a deadbeat?\nWell, all of those may play a factor. But I definitely simply love\nbeing on the stage.\n As\nI said, I'm a performer. I like doing one-woman shows, shows that\nhave audience participation. I get a real sense of pride rehearsing a\nroutine to where I know by heart the beats of a scenario, and what\nparts are going to make the audience laugh the most. One popular act\nI do is one where I tell a story and let the audience yell out plot\npoints. People get a kick out of yelling silly things that I include\nin my act. I remember talking about how I and my crew of\nchickenpox-infected manatees went on a dangerous inland journey for\nthe Holy Balm of Itchbottom. Or telling the tale of sailing the\nseven-and-two-fifths seas to kill the deadly, fifty-foot long Sausage\nSerpent. Maybe it's not standup pro level material, but I always get\nloud applause at the end of my shows - and a decent haul in my tip\nbasket, to boot. I'll hear a lot of the same things being yelled out\nin response to my setups - \"Rancher!\" in response to me boarding\na ship named the Jolly _____, for example. Sometimes the crowd is\nmore clever and gives me material I wouldn't have thought of in a\nhundred years. If I can remember these tidbits I may incorporate them\ninto future acts. I\nhave a certain amount of creative freedom in composing my act. Some\nshows, I'm allowed to push into 'R-rating territory.' Good times,\ngood people...good tips! Occasionally I will mix things up and create\na show that you could take your Grandma to. (When Grandma likes a\nshow, she can be surprisingly generous with the tips.) And it is fun\non occasion to see kids become swept up in the adventure you tell. Of\ncourse, I'm no stranger to debauchery - I miss it when it's gone -\nbut it is nice to occasionally perform an act where I don't have to\nworry about the audience member who's drunk off their ass and\nyelling. Or even worse, attempting to grope me when I'm being\nplayfully sultry.\n I've\nbeen on the ren faire circuit for nearly a decade now, have given\nhundreds of performances. I've seen everything public and private\nthat goes on at a ren faire a thousand times now, and it still\ndoesn't get boring. Lots of people nowadays nerd out about video\ngames, sports, movies, whatever. Before I got into this business I\nused to be one of the people who made fun of the guys who got\nobsessed with attending comic book conventions and buying every piece\nof merchandise they could (or a lot of the time, could not)\nafford.\nWell, don't I look like a silly goose now. We all pick our own\n\"poisons\" in life. My poison just happens to be pretending I was\na wench who lived hundreds of years ago.\n Things\nalways go easier when the audience follows the rules. Most of my\naudience members know how to have fun without making a mess of my\nact. It's rare to see hecklers. Not the jolly fellows that are part\nof the cast who make potshots at random fairegoers, mind you. I mean\nroutine-killing, insult-hurling patrons who, despite being the least\nfunny people in the faire, always think that it's them that the\naudience wants to see instead of the performer. Fortunately, these\nclowns are few and far between, and I can always call out for a\nnearby staff member to escort them away. Honestly, I usually don't\nhave to. A gentle calling out, or even just a stern look, is enough\nto get them to realize they're being foolish and to leave me alone.\nEven if they get nasty, I actually prefer to not have these 'audience\nmembers' escorted out if I can help it. When some guy (it's usually a\nman) tries to make a mockery out of my act, I turn the tables on him\nand make him look like the fool. It's just as easy to fend off the\ndrunkards as the ones who simply voice their displeasure at the most\ninappropriate times.\n\nSome performers are pissed for days when it happens. Me, I put it\nout of my mind unless it's particularly worth remembering. Of the\nseveral incidents I was heckled that I'd consider memorable, the most\nmemorable one was when it was me versus, of all species, an otter. It\nhappened during a summer faire held in the outskirts of a mid-sized\nMidwestern city. It was early afternoon and not terribly busy, but I\nhad a small crowd willing to give my show a chance. Up to the point\nwhere this guy interrupted me, everyone who watched me was being\nperfectly polite.\n\"So the whale-sized goose took off with us riding atop it. We\nclimbed higher and higher, clinging to the goose's feathers for our\nlives. We wondered where it was going to take us! Suddenly it swooped\ndown and we realized it was taking us to the land of. . . .\" \"Shit!\"\n The\nsudden curse was followed by the sort of uproarious laughter only\nuttered by a guy who thinks his own shit doesn't stink. He\nwas, as I said, an otter, a river otter to be specific. Even from the\nstage I could see that his jersey had some sort of giant stain on it\n- some food he bought at the concession area\nhe'd spilled on himself? He was literally slapping his knees like the\nyokels I used to see on the country comedy shows my grandma would put\non the TV when I visited her as a kid. Then he settled down, shook\nhis head and looked up at me with the most condescending expression\nI'd ever seen.\nMy non-otter audience of six was shocked. A Malinois exclaimed,\n\"What?!\" as his ears pinned back. A goat woman eyed the otter\nwith a look that showed equal parts horror and disgust.\nHe continued to stare at me, daring me to respond. Respond, I was\ngoing to. I've always hated the cynical type, the people who take any\nopportunity possible to 'darken' some lighthearted fun. If they can't\nbe happy, no one else can, either. It's all about them and their\nmisery. Well, I wasn't having it. I almost wished my act was\nuncensored. I could've given the man a stream of obscenities that\nwould've made him break down and cry. But for the sake of the\nadolescent quarter horse colt in the seats who was looking at him\nwith an \"Uh-oh!\" face - and for the sake of my job - I\ndecided to stick to more civilized talk.\nI growled underneath my breath, then deadpanned, \"Sir, would you\nplease not interfere with the show?\" My hands were clasping my\nperiod dress in frustration. Of course I knew that he wasn't going to\ncomply. The\notter snickered as he looked to the rest of the crowd, I assume to\nlook for approving faces. He found none, but he said, \"Hey, I'm\njust adding some entertainment to this turdpile.\" 'Turdpile?'\nInteresting word. It reminded me of my days in elementary school,\nwhen my classmates and I first learned to curse and would shout\nobscenities in fun at each other when the adults weren't looking.\nThere were a few of my colleagues hanging out not far from my stage\nwho heard the commotion. They gave the otter looks that, if the\ndisruptor weren't so damned dense, would've cut him like daggers.\nOne, a panda, looked up at me and pointed over his shoulder with a\nstuck out thumb - making it clear that he was willing to play\nbouncer if need be. I politely waved him off and smiled. He gave me a\nconfused look, then looked to the otter. He must've suspected that I\nhad a plan to handle this. He suspected correctly.\n\"You're interrupting my act,\" I said curtly. \"The other people\nin the seats came to see a performance, not to see you be rude to the\nperformer. Think of them, please, and don't try to stop what I'm\ndoing up here.\"\nWhy did I even bother? 'Interrupting my act' was obviously the\notter's game plan. He gave me a cruel grin. \"Who cares what you're\ndoing? It sucks.\" He looked at my unhappy expression and sneered.\n\"If you're mad about it, why don't you throw some monkey shit at\nme, sis? Hah!\" Oh.\nThis\nbullshit\nagain.\n\nOut of all the species in the world, none get spat on more than us,\nthe monkeys and apes. There's tons of species out there I don't find\nattractive. Platypuses, for one. And moles. But they don't get people\nto flat out shudder at the sight of them like what's happened to me\nseveral times, even as a child. We get singled out by members of\nother species because we look a lot like those long-extinct peoples,\nthe humans. The humans built marvelous technology, but couldn't\novercome their reptilian war-brains and destroyed each other. I guess\nsome members of other species think we're going to do the same. Also,\na lot of them think we're ugly. Unfair; being a capuchin, I'd say I'm\none of the cuter examples of monkeykind.\n\nAnd all of this venom from an otter, no less! Never thought I'd see\nthe day. I always thought otters were happy, friendly folk. Who\npissed in this guy's cereal? Oh well. Either way, I wasn't gonna let\nhim step on my tail. \"No, sir,\" I said with dripping sarcasm. \"I\ndon't play with my own feces. You can't project your personal hobbies\nonto everyone else.\" My crowd collectively gasped. Their agape jaws\npractically screamed out, \"Oh, snap!\"\nThe otter's face first showed confusion, and then anger when the\ninsult had registered. I huffed a laugh; 'River Boy' didn't like\nthat. He grimaced and bared his teeth. \"You can't talk to me that\nway!\" (Oh, the hypocrisy.) \"You're just an ugly cunt!\"\nOh, my. \"Oh, no!\" I gave a fake sniffle. \"Not the 'C-word!'\"\nI mockingly wrapped my arms around myself and whimpered. \"What ever\ndid I do to deserve this?\" The audience eyed me with what must have\nbeen amazement that I didn't go off on the guy. I didn't see the\nneed. I could tell this man was all talk - he looked so flustered\nthat I gambled he'd imminently leave the area in a huff. The light of\nmockery was in my eyes. Some more false despair, and then I put my\nhands on my hips and looked at him with mock pity.\n The\notter had gotten so bombastic, curling his tail to accentuate his\nanger, that, honestly, I felt more amusement than offense. \"Are you\nmy ex, already died and reincarnated? Sir-\" I nonchalantly\nplucked a piece of lint from my costume and flicked it away - I\ncould've asked my friend behind you to kick you out of this faire.\"\nI pointed to the panda. The otter followed my fingers and eyed the\nbulky-looking ursine with slight alarm. \"But honestly, why bother?\nDo you realize your mouthing off is going to do nothing to stop my\nact?\"\n\"What makes you so sure?\" asked the otter in a voice filled with\nequal parts anger and confusion. The\ncrowd was getting angry now. \"We're trying to enjoy the show!\"\nsaid the she-goat.\n\n\"You're just being an ass, dude,\" added a black panther. \"Why\nare you messing with the performer? You think she thinks this is\nfunny?\" (Little did the panther know that at this point, I thought\nit funny indeed.)\nEven the quarter horse colt gulped and said, \"I like her story. I\nwanted her to finish. . . .\"\nGiving the rest of the audience the stinkeye, my otter 'friend'\nleaned forward and put his hands on his knees. He looked at me\nsilently for a moment, then literally growled as if he were a German\nShepherd. \"Fucking idiots.\" He was too quiet for me to actually\nhear the words, but he enunciated them clearly enough for me to read\nhis lips.\n\nMy inner monologue ran. 'Not much of a fight. Guess you're going to\njust sit there and stew away until my show time's up. Hah. Maybe I\nshould be grateful that you saved me some work today.'\n\nHe shook his head and got up. He gave me a look that said, 'Piss\noff,' quite clearly, but he was the one who turned tail and walked\naway. My colleagues gave the man mock applause for his 'performance,'\nall but the panda, who gave the otter a scowl and a thumbs down when\nhe passed him.\n\n\"Good riddance to bad rubbish,\" said the she-goat, shaking her\nhead. \"Alright, dear! You can finish your show now.\"\n\nI got mildly flustered; the last person to call me 'Dear' was my mom\nduring my high school years. But I smiled. \"You got it, sis! Now,\nuh, where was I?\" The last minutes had legitimately made me forget\nmy place in my performance.\n\n\". . . Whale-sized goose?\" called out the colt.\n\n\"Oh, yeah,\" I said, happy at the boy's ability to pay attention\nas well as at the satisfaction that I could continue my act. I\ncleared my throat and continued my show with pride. \"We realized it\nwas taking us to the land of. . . .\""}