Clowning Around [FICTION]

I fumble around in the dark, trying to locate my phone. My voluminous pants don’t have pockets. I find a pair of suspenders, snapping them curiously as my hands continue to seek some semblance of my normal attire. A beam of light shines down on me and I blink back tears.

“You okay?” A deep voice rumbles though the darkness.

Before I dare to answer, I let my eyes adjust enough to get a good look at the asker. A short man with an incredibly broad chest for his height looks down at my prostrate form with concerned eyes. He holds a flashlight in one hand and a bucket of water in the other.

“I don’t know.”

“Still clowning around?” He grins.

This reminds me of the difficulty I had finding pants pockets. I glance down to find myself garbed in oversized blue pants and a garish yellow shirt bedecked in pink stars. I reach toward my face, feeling a thick coating of grease paint. I pull my hand back to find it smeared with white and red. I hesitate before reaching up with my other hand to to snatch a wig from my head. I stare at the fuzzy, red head-covering in my hand and wonder how I came to be dressed as a clown in the middle of a circus ring.

“Wait a second, you aren’t Martha. Who are you?” The man asks, training his flashlight beam on the blond curls now tumbling past my shoulders.

“Who is Martha?” I ask, trying to place the name.

“The clown whose face and outfit you stole.” He advances on me with the bucket of water and flashlight.

“I am sure I didn’t steal anything. I seriously don’t remember how I ended up here.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but a loud hiccup coming from the pool at the base of the high dive draws our attention. To my relief, he sets down the bucket of water and holds the flashlight firmly in both hands as he turns it toward the sound. I slowly clamber to my feet and follow. He glances over his shoulder suspiciously, so I back off, keeping close enough to get a good look at everything caught in the beam of the flashlight. When it falls on the pool, I begin to remember the previous evening.

A dress I recognize as my own barely covers the robust form of a brunette, who struggles to rise to a seated position as the light shines on her. 

“I’m ready for my close up.” She burbles drunkenly as she finally rights herself.

“Martha. Are you okay?” The short man glares at me and steps forward to offer her a steady arm.

Martha takes it with a giggle and then notices me standing in the shadows. “Harry, I am so glad you met my new friend Diane. We had a ball last night.”

“Did you?” He turns to look at me, his gaze softening a little. “Diane, could you hold this flashlight, so I can help Martha out of the pool?”


She giggles as he bends down a little to lift her into his arms. He cradles her against his chest for a moment and then sets her gently onto her feet. She stands shakily, resting a hand on his head to hold herself steady. He doesn’t seem to mind as he rests his head affectionately against her hip briefly after she steadies herself.

“So which one of you ladies wants to tell me what happened here last night?” He asks as he takes in the further signs of mayhem littering the center ring, from tufts of white fluff to what appears to be a trail of candies leading toward the main entrance.

I look at Martha, but she just waves her hand at me. “Jokes, I have, but answers about last night are still fuzzy. You?”

“I am starting to remember a few things.” I admit.

“Then let’s find a place to sit for a few minutes, so you can fill me in on what brought about all the extra work for me this morning.” Harry leads us to the front row of the bleachers and helps Martha get comfortable. She leans heavily on him, grinning at me as I piece together memories as they slowly return.

“Apparently, we met last night in a karaoke bar. Apparently, my virgin margaritas weren’t virgin because things are a little hazy…”

Martha interrupts to inform us. “I was drinking virgin daiquiris.” She follows this up with a burp directly in Harry’s face.

His face contorts as he turns away. “I think both of you got more than you bargained for.”

“I can’t be drunk,” Martha slurs. “I have to walk the tightrope.” Her eyes light on me again. “And your clown suit looks just like mine.”

“This is your clown suit. Apparently, we swapped outfits sometime during the night.”

Her eyes open wide. “And then we sang ‘I Got You Babe’ and you were Sonny.”

“I have a vague recollection of that. And then they kicked us out of the bar because it was closing time.”

“And we rode home in the clown car?”

“I think it was an uber. Someone loved your version of Cher and offered us a ride.”

“Or they love how I fill out your dress.” She laughs until she snorts.

Harry frowns at this.

Martha remains oblivious. ‘We’re best friends for life now, aren’t we, Diane?”

“I hope so,” I respond, “because I have a feeling I am going to remember some things that I need you to swear not to ever speak of.”

“Yay, besties.” She throws herself into my arms and that’s when we realize the flower is still loaded…

~~I once aspired to be a clown. Does that surprise you? I might still have it in me…~~

Commence Clowning [FICTION]

My reflection gazes back at me nervously from the glass. I force a wide grin and trace my lips with red grease paint, accentuating pulling the corners up my smile toward my ears. As I finish, I flash another toothy grin. Then my eyes wander across the rest of my features. Beads of sweat dot my pale forehead. I blot them away and generously apply white grease paint. I move downward, gently tracing around my rouged smile. When I finish, my own face disappears, replaced by Daisy, the sweet clown with the bright orange, Gerber daisy encircling her left eye.

“You’re ready for this,” I pause for emphasis, “Valedictorian.”

I gently push the red foam circle of my chosen profession over my nose. The year 2016 sprawls across its surface in thin, glittery script. I step out of my private dressing room.

A tiny red car, the child of a Smart car and a Volkswagen Beetle, greets me. I plop down behind the oversized steering wheel, squeezing my humongous shoes into place to push on the gas pedal. As I lean forward, I bump the horn. A blast of excited beeps, wails, and whistles erupts around me. Fueled by the clamor, I drive wildly toward the center ring where our graduating class awaits my wise words.

I release a lever and shoot out of the top of the car, landing on a trampoline covered in pillows. When I finally manage to gain control of my bouncing, I bounce to the edge of the trampoline and jump gracefully to the ground. I step behind the neon green podium, kicking away more than a few errant banana peels.

Dozens of ghostly faces gaze back at me. Most wear exaggerated smiles, some weep cheerfully, while a few in the back freeze the blood in my veins. Someday, they might channel their clown genius toward a more attainable goal like heavy metal music, inspiring horror writers, and keeping little kids on the straight and narrow path.

“Sorry, I couldn’t slip in sooner,” I begin with a pointed look at another slimy banana peel that sails through the air to land on the podium, “But I didn’t reach the top of the class by falling prey to substandard pranks.

“Top of the class. Top of the totem pole. Driver of the tiniest car in existence. This is what I aspired for. This what I attained.”

A chorus of honks echoes across the assembled crowd.

“Thank you for that. I know we all learned the same jokes, slipped on the same banana peels, and covered our faces with the same grease paint, but the future holds more than that for each of us. You may not be valedictorian, but you are something better…”

A silent hush falls as smiling faces focus on me, anticipating the promise I am about to offer.

“You are the hope of tomorrow. You are the reason children will laugh through their tears or cry in their beds. You are the smiling faces that keep the bulls from goring unwanted riders and sell circus peanuts though they aren’t real nuts like us.

“You are the next generation of clowns. When children mourn their lost chance to see elephants on parade, you will cheer them up. When tiny cars need dozens of passengers, you will fill them. When tiny pools beg to be dived into from hundreds of feet up, you will take that dive…”

I pause, clasping my hands together and stretching my body as if I am about to make that fabulous leap.

“And the world will laugh with you. Go forth and bring hysterics to the world.”

Exaggerated laughter fills the air. Foam noses fill the air. Water sprays from dozens of brightly colored flowers. I step back from the podium.

“Ack.” I squeal as I slide backwards to land on my backside to an even louder, unfeigned round of laughter.

I owed someone some fiction and I had some writing prompts begging for attention. I hope you enjoy.