Ever have that dream where you're being chased by a frowning clown with a mail-order camcorder? But then the whole thing morphs and YOU'RE the broken down old man in sideshow white-face, taping an endless string of kid's birthday parties as you while away your final years as as a vexed, expressionless jester? Yeah, me neither - but if I did, this joker would easily serve as the specter in question. In fact, I'm not positive I didn't see him this weekend. That, or there's another buffoon in floppy shoes padding around my peripheral vision. Perhaps I'm just projecting. As a boy, I absorbed every Stephen King book I could find, including It - that charming tale of an inter-dimensional predator posing as a party clown. Hey, it isn't King's best novel (The Stand is), but it was enough to skew my perception of your average harlequin, years before I ever shot a discount circus story and saw just how skeevy they are up close. Anyhoo, forget I mentioned it. Just do me this favor: Should you see me out and about, come up and say 'Hi' or maybe wave from afar. But don't skulk about the edges in pancake makeup and outdated fancycam...
It creeps me out.
No comments:
Post a Comment