The Lonely Three-Breasted Woman

Much academic dispute has revolved around the authenticity of this found Mark Twain manuscript. Signed only S.C., it is difficult to imagine the famed father of American letters holding interest in the vulgar. Further, to whom could he have been writing such a tale? The letter is unaddressed, as if conceived to be sent, but never executed. Nevertheless, many (see Smythe, 1997, Jones et al 2002) believe the home-spun style and familiar feeling characterizations are strong enough indicators to offer the possibility of a found piece in an unfamiliar genre. Indeed, others (Garcias, 2012) go so far as to suggest Twain himself, or his body of work, is an amalgamation of authors a la Shakespeare. While we reject this assertion on historical record alone, it is undeniable that this short story - the Lonely Three-Breasted Woman of the Stromboli Circus - addresses themes of interest to Twain. Enough so that we accept the possibility it is indeed an authentic lost story, as advertised.

The Lonely Three-Breasted Woman of the Stromboli Circus

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Isaac Van Amburgh had invited me, via post, to a celebratory dinner during my sojourn in Humboldt, at the one quality hotel in town. I had a mind to attend, despite his brother, who would also be in attendance, and his propensity to go on at length about the most mundane topics an accountant could muster. "Why would the event appeal?", you'd be forgiven to wonder. Why, for the simple fact that the Hotel Arcata boasted a cellar of famed depth and quality and Amburgh a thirst that no thinning pocket book could deny.

By the time I arrived, given delays with the Buick 10 and its infernal engine choke, Amburgh was indeed on bottle three of no-end-in-sight and was as effusive as ever. I settled in for an evening of wine and tall tales, as it was clear the night was headed in that direction.

Now Amburgh was famous across the state for his tales, often seemingly constructed on the spot, of trips and school-aged hijinks that ended only when the shaggy dog had had enough and settled down for a nap. But today's tale was of a different sort and he swore up and down that it was as true as the soft blue on Margaret Eaton's petticoats. An apocryphal promise, if I ever heard one. Nevertheless, I set the tale down for you as told, and you can be the judge of its potential as gospel.

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"It happened that, at the tail end of '99, I stumbled upon a new regional circus setting up on the outskirts of Boise. There was a menagerie of animals and oddities dotted here and there around the small field with the gypsy folk busy constructing the premises as a new city might rise on the Nile. I stopped to speak with a small gentleman, who, it would happen, was the barker and proprietor of the convocation."

"All around were signs advertising the feats and peculiarities available for viewing, once the circus was set, and my eyes lit upon a far off sign at a lonely tent to the distant south. And I swear on my brother's mustaches, that sign was advertising a woman of a disproportionately generous number of bosoms. Greater, even, than the standard two."

"I motioned to the barker with a nudge of the chin, that this, surely, could only be a feat of costuming. But he swore it was as genuine as Great White Fleet circumnavigation, which was much in the news at that time."

"But why," asked I, "would such a miraculous show be placed so out of the way? Surely she must be the central attraction!"

"To be true," he responded, "I have a mind to let her go. While the multiplicity of breasts is an enviable attraction, and brings in the punters and gawkers to no end, they, often as not, demand their money returned. And even when not, she costs me as much as she earns. She's a sight to behold, no doubt, but she is so sad, that her tears strike depression in the hearts of the viewers and they are ready to quit the circus altogether after five minutes in her tent."

"But what could be bringing her so low? She must be the center of attention wherever she may arrive?" I wanted to know."

"I do believe she's lonely," the barker answered simply."

****

Here Amburgh paused to order up another bottle. And to complain about "the small-sized glasses," being "insufficient for his large-sized mouth." And having concluded his harangue of the poor waiter, who only had the one size of glass on offer, I had to prompt him to continue. "How could a woman of, let's say, fantastical proportions be lonely? I can only but think that the gentlemen would be lining up to call upon her?" asked I.

"Well you would think," answered Amburgh. "I was given to understand that she had had, not the usual one or two, but four... four!... beaus at the go. And each had left her after a time with naught but a pocketbook full of broken dreams."

Well four gentlemen callers is quite a few. And quite a few to lose! And I expressed my dismay that she should have been so deserted. And seemingly Amburgh had agreed. Because he then recounted how he had left the barker and made his way to the far-off tent to inspect this paragon of both mammarian plenty and courting abandonment.

****

Amburgh continued: "Pausing at the entryway to the tent, I heard sniffles, such that I pushed aside the flap and strode forth exclaiming, 'excuse me madame, you appear to be in some distress.' And that is when I first beheld her wondrous form."

"For while it is true that she did indeed have one more than the customary allotment of bosoms, that was not what first caught my or, I gather, the many punters' attention. A standard woman, as you surely know, may have a facade of apple size or even more. An exceptionally endowed woman may be preceded by a vanguard of pumpkins. This woman was not merely exceptional. She was so very much more. Her proscenium was beyond the scope of the watermelon. So unprecedented was she, that I am told they are creating the state of Idaho just to house her magnificence."

****

Amburgh waxed on and at some length about the fine qualities of all three of her bosoms. The roundness, the firmness, the structural integrity. Clearly he remained in thrall to this treasure chest of bodice blossoms. Through sips of wine he extolled her attributes. Till I managed to get in a word during the opening of yet another bottle.

"But why was she crying?" I wanted to know.

It seems the fourth and final beau had run off not a fortnight earlier and she was in despair that she would be alone for the rest of her days. "To lose a caller or two is normal, even traditional, you will agree. But four begins to appear a curse," said Amburgh to me.

"Were you able to console her," I inquired. And, having had his refill from the now dwindling cellar, Amburgh related to me the rest of his remarkable tale.

****

"Well it seems the proprietor had not really listened to our lady's laments, because if he had, he'd have known that her primary complaint was not the missing courtly attentions, but the lack of jewels adorning her dainty fingers."

"Our multi-mammoried maiden explained to me that she had four older sisters at the circus. A trapezist, two tumblers, and a knife thrower's assistant. And each had become engaged in turn, in the order of birth, as is reasonable and appropriate. Even in the circus.

"But when the second sister had become engaged, she had two suitors. And the winning gent, to impress the elder tumbler, had presented her with two shiny golden rings, to better his rival and win her hand. And it worked! To this day she wears both rings. When she's not tumbling, of course."

"Well, then the tradition was set. The eldest, the trapezist, had one ring, the second had two. When the gentlemen began calling on the second tumbler, she made it clear that naught but three rings would do. Three callers she had and the one to produce the golden bands was the winner."

"And of course, the fourth sister, the knife thrower's assistant, managed to find four suitors. Only briefly as the knife thrower was suitor number four and had a habit of scaring off the other three with whip-quick knife throw demonstrations. Even so, he presented the assistant with four, yes four, golden rings - each pinned to the knife throw board on the tip of a dagger.

"Such pressure this put upon the last, sensual sister of multitudinous mammaries! She realized early on she would need to find five suitable suitors AND somehow convince one to offer five golden rings. And she believed that if she failed in this duty, she would shame herself and disappoint her family. What a burden to carry! And her utter despondency then, once she had assembled four of the five suitors and then saw them leave, one after the other with nary a ring to offer, made sense to me."

"I made to comfort the poor woman, as any true gentleman would do. And as I reached out to help her to her feet, I found myself engulfed. Now allow me to tell you, that you have not lived until you have found yourself embraced, squeezed on all sides, by a woman of her... attributes. It is like living on a cloud, like sleeping in a pond of kittens, like resting atop all the geese of Canada, or at least their downy feathers. In other words, it was heaven."

"She must have enjoyed it too, for she held me there for some time. I couldn't quite reach my pocket watch, but I heard the thing tick on. Or perhaps that was her heart beat. Eventually I began to squirm and plead my case to be released. But instead, she reached her hand between us and loosened her bodice and soon I found myself feasting on acres of bare, and dare I say, delicious, flesh. I'd not nursed since I were a wee thing, but now I couldn't imagine why'd I'd ever stopped."

"And sir, I tell you, three breasts is a lot for one mouth! Each time I thought she might tire of my suckling, a new teat was placed before my teeth. I dined on her decolletage. I feasted on her flapjacks. And I knew more satisfaction than the bottom of any bottle of fine wine."

"Well, by the time she released me from her delectation of an embrace, a crowd had gathered in the tent such that it was full to nearly bursting open. The salivary evidence of my enjoyment dripped from all three of her bosoms. And in a ripple starting from the left and circling all round the tent, such a cheer arose that the owner and all four sisters soon came running in to see what was amiss."

"Well I tell you, I was so delighted, so taken with this unusually plentiful lass, that right there and then I placed myself down on one knee and asked if she would allow me to take her as my bride! And upon her ascent, the whole conclave erupted in cheers. Later the proprietor told me it was his best night of takings yet!"

****

"But if you are to be wed to the Idaho circus lass, what in tarnation are you doing in California!?"

"Oh. That?" answered Amburgh. "Why haven't you heard? There's gold in them hills. And I'm gonna need a lot of it to fashion all those golden rings."

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