Hello All:
Perhaps you recall about a year ago my mention of a robin
in my backyard that fell under a terrible spell of delusionment. He spent the
entire weekend, pecking and head butting the windows that faced our backyard.
By the end of the weekend, our windows were covered with bird saliva, grinded
up beak and even blood.
And why was he doing this?
Well, understand that robins—just like all birds during
the mating/nesting season—are territorial. If a robin has a nest nearby, he
won't stand for having another robin invade his territory. Birds don't
understand reflections in the glass. And as far as the delusioned robin in my
backyard was concerned, the reflection that he saw was a threat to his
territory.
"SMACK...! SMACK...! SMACK...!"
He never gave up. He might have even died in his ongoing battle with the
phantom bird.
I believe that people, unfortunately, do the same thing.
We spend much of our lives interpreting the world around us and injecting our
own perceptions to form an individualized reality. Preconceptions, inferences, prejudices,
unfounded conclusions, and the expectations that we have on other people; they
all form a nightmarish funhouse of a never-ending maze of mirrors. Will we ever
be able to see beyond the reflections and understand reality as it truly is?
It should become our objective at some point in a
lifetime to smash through these mirrors and banish those phantoms that haunt us
day after day. We can do this by transforming the mind so that it is like a
still body of water that reflects the surrounding world. Perhaps when we
reflect the outside world instead of presenting our own reflections to that nightmarish
funhouse that we've created, we can finally see reality as it truly is.
***
Today's featured writing is a brand new clown story for you. I mentioned in the last clown story that if we every want to move forward with clown literature, we need to move away from John Wayne Gayce and Pennywise the Clown. I do this in today's story.
I bring you, Lovey the Clown.
Charles is a lonely, old man who
never married. He’s had only two women in younger years that could remotely be
considered partners in romance. He attributes his bad luck with women to the
fact that he is ugly. You see; Charles has always been ugly, starting with his
deformed lips that make a nasty hair lip which exposes his gangly, yellow
teeth. Then there’s his terribly scarred-up face that was brought on by bad
acne in teenage years.
But one shouldn’t judge a book
by its cover. Although ugly, Charles is a really, nice guy. He is so kind,
caring and good natured with a great sense of humor. But what about those two
lovers from younger years? If Charles was such a great guy, why didn’t they
stay with him?
Well, maybe those young women
weren’t so great, themselves.
There was Annie, a pretty girl
in high school who dated Charles for only about a week. It was the first girl
that Charles had ever kissed. But he managed to get only one from her—a simple
peck to his nasty, deformed hair lip that exposes his gangly, yellow teeth.
“You never kissed a girl?” she
asked while sitting next to Charles on a park bench late one night.
“No…”
“Mwah!”
It was over before Charles
realized what happened!
Really, Annie only dated Charles
to get even with her boyfriend who supposedly cheated on her. Once jealousy had
been triggered in this boy, and he seemed to learn his lesson, Annie ended the
short-lived romance with poor Charles.
Then, shortly after graduating
high school, there was Stacy; a beaten and battered young and chubby brunette
with very, low self esteem who simply needed a rest from being physically
abused by her boyfriend. Charles became involved with Stacy shortly after her
wrist had been broken from being shoved to the ground during a beating.
“I feel so comfortable and
relaxed with you.” she professed while sitting across the booth from Charles at
Denny’s, and eating her slice of pumpkin pie.
“I hope so…” answered Charles.
“And I just want you to know that you make me so happy.”
“Where have you been my whole
life?” asked Stacy. “For so many years I’ve been with jerk guys. I never
realized that what I needed was a nice guy like you.”
The relationship with Stacy
lasted longer than the one with Annie. But so disappointing; Charles never
managed to kiss Stacy. He tried, once, but she turned her face so that Charles
could only kiss her cheek. His nasty, deformed hair lip that exposed his gangly,
yellow teeth must have turned Stacy off.
There was, however, plenty of hugging and cuddling in their
relationship. At one point Charles believed that he could make love to Stacy
through just hugging and cuddling.
The entire romance lasted from
November of that year, all the way to April of the following. But alas, one
early evening in spring, Stacy made an unbelievable announcement. “I think I
want to go back to him.”
“Go back to him? No! Why? He
beat you!”
“I think he’s changed.” Stacy
rebutted. “He came over to see me the other night, and I think he’s had some
time to think about things. He told me he’s sorry. I can’t deny that I love
him, and want to give him another chance.”
Charles was dumbfounded. He
wanted to cry out, “Well what about us?” But he realized what most rebound men
of abused women soon discover: battered women always crawl back for more.
And more she received! Two weeks
after returning to her abusive boyfriend, Stacy was beaten into a coma and died
two days later.
Poor Charles was grief stricken
and heartbroken. He loved Stacy, obviously more than her murderous boyfriend.
And at the funeral home he couldn’t even view her in the casket, for it was
closed. You see; the beating was so severe that Stacy’s physical appearance
would have deeply disturbed mourners.
There are some who say that
those who appear the happiest and laugh the most are actually masking sadness.
I suppose this might have been what happened with Charles. Some months after
much grief, Charles’ depressed personality suddenly changed into that of a
comedian. He joked and put on hysterical performances for family and friends.
Some people even suggested that he go into the business of entertainment.
But instead of using his
newfound talent to explore professional entertainment, Charles landed a job as
an overnight janitor at the local department store. He remained there for
several years. Charles never bothered going to college, or pursuing greater
career options. He lived with his parents, remained single and never bothered to
date women. As poor Charles understood, he was too ugly for romance. And he
truly believed that Stacy was the one and only woman meant for him.
Then, one morning as Charles
drove the floor buffer machine through the main aisle of the Men’s clothing
department, he saw an unbelievable sight. A young woman who looked, exactly,
like his murdered Stacy walked along the perimeter aisle of the Men’s clothing
department, and over to Children’s. She didn’t even bother to take notice of
him. Perhaps she felt that someone riding a floor buffer machine was a
loser—someone clearly out of his league. Then again, maybe she just didn’t see
him.
Charles wasn’t going to take any
chances. He was definitely interested in the young woman, but realized he had
to go about matters carefully. How to approach the young woman without
revealing his hideous appearance and sad circumstance in life; he pondered this
in anguish—morning after morning, week after week—as he watched her enter the
department, seemingly without taking notice of him. Why would she? Charles was
an ugly nobody.
Then, one night upon awakening
from a dream—a dream in which Charles worked as a circus clown—he came up with
the perfect solution. “I will dress up as a clown!” he exclaimed. “I will
disguise my ugliness with the brilliant colors of a clown. I will cover my
scarred up face with paint. I will figure out a way hide my nasty hair lip that
exposes my gangly, yellow teeth; and paint a smile on my face.”
And so Charles spent many nights
before the mirror, creating the most brilliant clown ensemble for himself. Now
approaching his late twenties, his hair was terribly thinning—nearly bald. This
was now masked by wearing a shaggy, blue clown wig that he managed to spike and
fluff up so that it resembled one of those troll pencil toppers. His scarred
and hideous face was entirely painted with the color pink; red-colored rose
flowers and hearts painted on each cheek to symbolize his longing for romance.
To rid himself of the nasty hair lip, Charles used costume clay to patch it up;
and then used red paint to create a large smile. Finally, Charles dressed up in
an outdated, oversized, green suit with blazer that was extra long. It was worn
over a white shirt with obnoxious checkered neck tie. He looked, exactly, like
a ridiculous clown.
***
On a Monday morning, Charles
seemed to appear out of nowhere and stood at the cash register in his clown
ensemble.
The young woman who resembled
Stacy from years ago had her back turned for only a moment. When she turned
back to the cash register, there was a clown standing before her. “Oh my gosh!
What the…?”
“Hello there beautiful, young
lady! I’m Lovey the Clown! He held out his white-gloved hand in a motion to
shake.
Cautiously, the young woman fit
her hand into his. “I’m Erin…” But before she could finish her sentence…
“BUZZ!”
Something tickled and zapped
Erin’s hand. “Aggggghhhhh! What was that?” she asked.
Lovey the Clown laughed, “I’m
just full of gags like that!” Then he asked, “Did you say your name is Erin?”
“Yes…”
“Erin; that’s a pretty name.”
“Well thank you!” Erin was
unsure of how to react. Standing before her was a clown who—just like all
clowns—found it necessary to pull obnoxious gags on people. But he also
complimented her; greeted her as “beautiful, young lady” and then told Erin
that her name is pretty. If she didn’t know any better, this clown was really
sweet.
“I have something for you—just
for you.” Lovey announced.
“What? What is it?” asked Erin.
Lovey reached into the inner
pocket of his oversized, green blazer and pulled out a red rose.
“Awe… So sweet…” Erin’s heart
nearly melted.
But just as she reached for it,
a stream of cold water sprayed from the center of the flower.
“Ugggghhhh!” she exclaimed while
wiping the water off her face.
“I’m the funniest clown you’ll ever
get to know!”
“I don’t know whether to be
annoyed or laugh!” Erin said. “But I think I’ll laugh. I need a little humor in
my life. You’re a very, funny clown.”
“Well thank you.” said Lovey.
Then Lovey did something that he thought he would never do—at least not for
some weeks or even months. Perhaps it was the clown ensemble and the ability to
hide behind his persona that provided him with the boldness. Lovey asked, “Well
if you want to laugh some more, maybe you can give me your number. I’ll call you
and give you plenty of great jokes!”
“Are you asking me for my
number?” Erin asked.
“Absolutely!”
Erin pushed the receipt feed on
the cash register and tore off some blank paper. Then she wrote down her
number. “Don’t call me at work!” she warned. “I can get in trouble. Call me in
the late afternoon or in the evening when I’m home.”
“You’ve got it! And I’m honored
to have the number of such a beautiful, young lady. And it was a pleasure
meeting you, Erin…”
Later that night, Charles sat in
his bedroom in just ordinary clothes and without the clown make-up. He spoke on
the phone with his newfound friend who he hoped would soon be his girlfriend.
But while speaking to Erin, Charles learned of her sad circumstance.
“...Yeah, my mom is terminally
ill with COPD. She’s home on life support—a ventilator. Both my brother and
sister moved out of state, and my father died a few years ago. It’s just me,
all alone, to take care of my dying mother.”
“Awe… that’s sad… that’s very
sad.” commented Charles. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
Erin continued, “Now you know
what I mean when I said that I needed some humor in my life. I guess I could
use a clown to cheer me up.”
“Well that’s what I’m going to
do!” reassured Charles. “But you know, I was thinking; maybe you need more than
just a clown to tell you jokes and make you laugh. Maybe you need to get out of
the house for a few hours—have dinner and see a movie.”
“You mean like a date?” asked
Erin.
“Yes, a date!”
“Sure…” agreed Erin. “When would
you want to go out?”
“How about we go out this
upcoming Friday night?” suggested Charles. “How about I pick you up at 7:00?
I’ll think of something.”
“7:00 would be great!”
***
When Charles said that he would
think of something, Erin might have interpreted this to mean that he would think
of a place to go for dinner, and decide on the movie to see. But this is not
what Charles meant. Charles was referring to picking her up. You see; although
Charles has his driver’s license, he doesn’t own a car. He walks everywhere,
even to work.
“Dad?”
Charles still lives at home with
his parents and entered the family room after ending his call with Erin.
“Dad?”
“Yes, what it is, son?”
“I’ve got a date Friday night
with a really, nice girl from work.”
“You do? What’s her name?”
“Erin…”
“Well good for you!”
congratulated Father. “Do you need some money?”
“No, I was going to ask if I
could borrow the car.”
Father sighed, “Son,
unfortunately your mother and I are going to a wedding reception on Friday
night. I’d let you use the other car, but we only have one.”
Charles sighed, “Oh no… I hope I
don’t have to cancel my date with Erin.”
“Well, maybe you can buy a car
before Friday and take her out in that.” suggested Father.
“Hmm… I’ll have to think of
something.”
Soon, Charles telephoned his
good friend, Sam.
“Hello?” the voice of Sam
greeted.
“Sam, this is Charles.”
“Hey man, what’s up?”
Charles began, “I need a favor.”
“Sure, what do you need?” asked
Sam.
“I’ve got a date on Friday
night. My Dad said I can’t use the car. Could I borrow yours?”
Sam sighed over the phone. “I’m
afraid I can’t do that; not for Friday. Sherry and I are going to a concert. I
need my car.” Then Sam thought of an idea. You see; he’s a garbage man, and has
access to plenty of garbage trucks. Might he have been able to allow his good friend
to borrow one for Friday night? “Hey…” began Sam. “You don’t mind what sort of
vehicle that you take your date out in, do you?”
“No, anything is fine as long as
it gets me from point A to point B.” answered Charles.
“Well if I show you how to drive
one, would you be interested in borrowing a garbage truck?”
“A garbage truck?” asked
Charles. “You mean one of those big and noisy trucks that pull up in front of
the houses to collect garbage?”
“Yup!” answered Sam. “Are you
interested?”
“Sure! It’s a little awkward,
but maybe my date will get a kick out of it.”
***
“He’s a clown, Mom. That’s all I
know about him.”
It was Friday evening, about
6:45 pm as Erin stood over her mother’s bed. Poor Mother was nearly lifeless as
she lay there and listened to her daughter give the details of her Friday night
date. Right near the bed, the annoying hum of the machine could be heard as it
pumped and supplied necessary, life-sustaining oxygen to a terminally-ill COPD
patient.
“... a clown… a clown is coming here…? Mother
whispered through the oxygen mask.
“That’s what he does… I think…”
answered Erin.
“... you think…?”
“I don’t know, Mother!” argued
Erin. “He’s just a guy who is taking me out on a date. It’s just a date,
nothing serious! Can’t I go out on a simple date?”
“... but he’s a clown…”
“So!” snapped Erin.
“... you shouldn’t trust clowns…
they hide their evil intentions by being funny…”
“Oh Mother! You’re crazy, you
know that?”
With a shaky hand and finger,
Mother weakly gestured her daughter to come closer. “... come here…”
Erin did as her mother ordered.
“What, what is it?”
“... please don’t stay out late…
come home at a decent time…”
“I promise, Mom. I’ll be home
before midnight.”
Suddenly the doorbell rang.
“It’s him!” exclaimed Erin. She
dashed out of the bedroom, down the hallway and over to the front door.
From the bedroom, Mother
listened carefully.
“Oh my gosh! You wore your clown
costume…! Come on in… Meet my mother…”
Seconds later, in walked Erin
with A CLOWN following behind her.
“... good heavens…” whispered
Mother behind the oxygen mask.
“Well hello there beautiful,
young lady I’m Lovey the Clown!”
“... save your flattery…”
whispered Mother. Terminally ill, she wasn’t feeling so young and beautiful.
“Can I call you, Mom?” asked
Lovey.
“... I never gave birth to a
clown…” whispered Mother.
“Oh Mother! Don’t be so grumpy!”
argued Erin. Then she looked over to the clown. “Come on, Lovey. Let’s get
going.”
“Sure thing!”
And with that, both Erin and
Lovey the Clown left the room.
But seconds later, the clown danced
and pranced back into the bedroom and rushed over to Mother’s bed. He brought
his face close to hers and reassured, “Don’t you worry about a thing! I’ll have
her home before midnight!” He quickly turned and dashed out of the bedroom. But
while doing so, Lovey tripped over the fish hose that ran from the oxygen
machine to the mask on Mother’s face. This pulled the hose out from the machine
which meant that Mother would no longer receive her much-needed oxygen.
At first Mother didn’t realize
what the clown had done. It wasn’t until the front door closed—Erin out for the
evening—that she began to feel the effects of lacking oxygen. “... what…? She
turned her face over towards the machine and could see the hose yanked out.
“... help… help…” she whispered. Mother was too weak to sit up let alone try
and repair the yanked-out house. “... help… Erin… I should have never trusted a
clown…”
Meanwhile, outside, Erin laughed
and laughed at the sight of Lovey’s crazy ride—a garbage truck. The engine
noisily rattled and clunked as it sat parked in the street.
“We’ll be cruising in style,
tonight!” boldly declared Lovey. “Come-on, let’s check this baby out!” Like a
gentleman, he opened the passenger side door and motioned Erin to climb aboard.
But before she put her foot on the ladder, Lovey stopped her. “Wait! I feel
like dancing, don’t you?”
“Dancing?” asked Erin with a
queer expression.
“Sure! I just so happen to have
a transportable dance floor for us. Come-on!” He motioned Erin to the back of
the garbage truck where he pushed the hydraulic control lever to lower the
packer blade from the trash hopper. Inside, there was an illuminated,
battery-operated disco ball hanging from the ceiling. On the floor was a retro,
portable stereo which might have been referred to as a “ghetto blaster” back in
its day.
Lovey climbed into the hopper
and pressed the play button on the tape deck. He began to dance at the sound of
the music.
Outside the hopper, Erin laughed
at the crazy clown who actually converted a garbage truck into his own,
personal nightclub. How was all of this possible? Where did he get his hands on
a garbage truck?
“Come on in!” shouted Lovey.
“Let’s dance!”
At first, Erin hesitated. She
shook her head and pushed her hands out in an effort to communicate, no.
“Come on!” urged Lovey. “It’s
fun! You’ve got to get used to doing crazy stuff like this!”
Erin shrugged her shoulders,
smiled, and then carefully climbed into the hopper to be with Lovey. Soon the
two danced. They danced and danced like never before.
About ten minutes passed when
Lovey suggested, “You want something to drink?”
“What?” shouted Erin over the
music.
“Do you want me to go to the bar
and get something to drink?”
Dumbfounded, Erin stared at the
clown for about a second. “Sure…”
Lovey climbed out of the hopper
and left his date inside. He only intended on going up to the front of the
truck to grab Erin a drink. But then something bad happened. While climbing
down, his foot pressed the hydraulic control lever which began to move the
large packer blade inside and towards the back.
“Oh no! Stop!” shouted Lovey as
he struggled with the hydraulic controls.
A jolt of adrenaline and fear
spiked through Erin’s veins as she realized that the situation had become
dangerous “Hey!” she screamed while running towards the front. But it was too
late! The large packer blade took up the entire entrance of the hopper and
continued to move towards the back. If it continued moving, Erin would be
crushed to death!
Desperately, Lovey tried to stop
and reverse the packer blade. But there was something wrong. One might think
that simply shifting the hydraulic control in the opposite direction would
reverse the blade. But the control was apparently under some sort of automatic
reset in which the packer blade would make an entire sweep inwards and then
out.
“STOP! STOP!” Lovey cried out
while running up to the front of the garbage truck. He reached up to the driver
console and turned the engine off. But wouldn’t you know it? For some reason,
the hopper and packer blade were under battery control. The blade continued to
move deeply inwards until it stopped on its own volition. Then it reversed and
inched its way out and to the back.
Horrified, Lovey observed the
mangled and crushed remains of Erin mixed with a smashed ghetto blaster and
battery operated disco light.
***
The following morning, the news reported the shocking
report to the world. “Police walked into
a gruesome murder last night. They say that a man dressed up as a clown entered
an elderly woman’s home who was terminally-ill with COPD. He apparently removed
the hose from an oxygen supply pump, effectively killing her. Then he murdered
her daughter by crushing her to death in the back of a garbage truck. Police
say it’s the most bizarre clown-style murder that they have ever seen.”
THE END!
