Flash!
London and Paris blinked harshly as cameras flashed and the sound of yelling filled their ears, being pushed ahead roughly by two people who had just offered them a job in their 'side show'. They had no where else to go, living on the street and being called freaks, waiting for someone to save them. This was their opportunity. These two people had to be it, right? If they weren't, they planned to run away again, like they did the first time, and the second time, and the third, and the fourth, and so on.
 The two boys hobbled through the crowd, twisting and turning on their three legs, trying to maintain a bit of control in the panic. There was at least two hundred people to see us!, London thought in horror. Do you not think they've seen enough?, Paris seemed to reply, looking at his siamese twin in breathless terror.

As they looked to the stage, the twins saw a tall man wearing a black collared shirt, a black top hat with purple lace tied around it, a floppy bow tie, a pentagram crest hanging on flawless black thread, black khakis, and black dress shoes. The strangest part about this being, was his arms. The arms stretched from out of his back, straining mechanically as they made extravagant hand motions. 
"Ladies and gentlemen," the man exclaimed in a booming, dark voice, "introducing our newest attraction! Only twenty-eight years old, the most wondrous things since his birth in 1831! London Paris! The two headed thing!" As he finished his speech they were shoved on stage, and only regained balance before they fell faces first into the crowd, London and Paris stared in horror over the crowd of eyes. Two hundred of them, all gawked at the pair. As he looked to his left, London saw someone wheel up a piano slowly and huffily.
"Can you dance?" the man grumped in a harsh accent, as he looked over them. 
"No sir, we can't." Paris replied, looking at him with tired, determined eyes.
The man nodded, and continued to grumble as he waddled off, only to come back with a microphone thats head split in two. One microphone to the left for London, another for Paris to the right. London looked amazed, Paris still looked tired. Paris and London both reached out timidly, and hesitantly put a hand around  the microphones neck, their small shaky hands kept the strong pole in place. Paris swallowed, and listened as the piano began to play an eerie, slow tune. Paris began to sing slowly, his voice creeping among the crowd, London slowly joining in as he found the tune. The tune became increasingly intensifying as drums were added to the music. It pounded, and then-

Silence. 

The crowd slowly begun to clap one by one until London and Paris were pushed off stage and the next act coming on. How interesting this turn out was.