You run away and join the circus
You get drafted but fuck that you run. You are starving. Living out of dumpsters and handouts you beg for. You finally get a job at the circus; you're given a sleeping bag for a bed and one square meal a day: that's the deal. You travel with the Blomoberi Circus for four months, and everything seems like it is going to turn out okay for you.
But, no, it does not. You catch some nasty disease from cleaning up the baboon cages. Or maybe it was from getting bit so many times. A fever that puts you into a delirium. You have no strength, just sweating and trembling, moaning. The circus abandons you early the next morning, moving on while you toss and turn and mumble in your sickness.
You die a day and a half later in the cold prairie wind.
