Short Stories and poems

Not a Funny Clown

Richard was a clown, only he wasn’t the kind of clown that people laughed at. No, he was the kind who got his jollies out of scaring people, and it wasn’t like he worked at a Halloween Park where scaring folks was acceptable. No, he’d jump out of bushes while kids walked down the sidewalk, and steal their candy, and perhaps their money. This Halloween would be no different.

He’d just put on his makeup and wig, when the doorbell rang.

“Strange,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

He went to the door, and looked through the peephole. Then, he stepped back, and checked behind a window curtain. Then, he backed away.

“Impossible! That only happens in the movies!”

Suddenly, the door was smashed in, and in came a whole circus of clowns, only none were laughing; big ones, small ones, fat ones, thin ones, all in outrageous outfits, as they poured on in, filling every space, including those not even meant for one person to stand in had three or four. Some grabbed a hold of him.

Soon they cleared a path, and in came a Whiteface clown.

“Nice to see you,” the clown said. “I’m what you’d call the Boss Clown. We’ve heard of you – you’ve made it hard for a clown to get a good gig in this town. We have lots of folk who’d like a gig in advertising, at the clinic, at the mall, the horror park, and more. Problem is, you’re not a funny clown.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Richard asked.

Whiteface grinned, splitting the smile on his face. “Play the biggest joke ever. Bring some pies, boys.”

“How is that a joke?” Richard asked.

“Just the start, followed by plenty of stuff down your pants, joy-buzzers, and finally, a half-sized trunk, which will be delivered to the police,” said Whiteface, as he held up a pie. “That will be a whole lot of fun, and it will be funny. Shame about the wig and makeup, that is a scary face. Now, let’s put a smile on it.”

384 W.C.