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.

The Power of Fish

I expanded the topic that I was given for this piece. What do you think?

A tall slender girl, barely distinguishable from a hundred other girls in long, blue robes and a mortarboard with a golden tassel dangling from its left side begins to speak. “The simplest things can make the greatest difference in your life…”

As a hush falls over the assemblage around me, the whole auditorium fades away and time moves backward.

Younger eyes carefully scrutinize the little girl across from me. Dark hair hangs in knotted clumps about her face. As her attempts to hide behind it fail, she leans over until her nose rests inches above the battered metal table. I clear my throat and sit down across from her with exaggerated slowness.

“My name is Larry. What’s yours?” I introduce myself in the softest tones my deep voice can produce.

The little girl flinches slightly, wrapping her hands around her shoulders protectively. A soft hum emanates from her throat as she rocks gently back and forth. Eventually, she soothes herself enough to drop her arms to her sides. Her hands slide under her thighs as her eyes continue to focus on the table that separates us.

I lean back in my chair, looking down at my elbows as I cross my arms across my chest. Silence stretches out before us. I determine to wait her out. She’ll talk to me eventually. Her determination proves stronger than mine. As my patience wanes, an idea strikes me.

I reach into my pocket, feeling around until a soft noise reassures me that I have found what I am looking for. The soft crinkle of plastic finally lures her eyes upward. They stop on the sliver of yellow poking out of my immense hand. One eyebrow lifts slightly as her lips twitch curiously.

I smile and pour a couple of small red shapes into my other hand. I place one on a napkin in front of her. The other, I raise to my own mouth. Her eyes follow this movement. As I suck gently on the gummy red candy, her eyes move from my lips to the napkin. After a moment, she flashes me a tentative smile. One hand slowly comes up over the table to pick up the tiny gummy fish. She draws it closer to her face, inspecting the grooves on its body for a second.

Her tongue pokes tentatively from her mouth as she moves the candy closer to her mouth. “Medicine?”

Startled, my question takes a moment to form though it is only one word. “What?”

“Tastes like cough syrup. Cherry cough syrup.” Crying has roughened her voice.

“It’s not medicine.” I set the bag down on the table and push it toward her.

She still hasn’t looked at my face, but her eyes scan the words on the package avidly. “Swedish fish?”

She looks up at my face now with dark eyes full of curiosity as I open my mouth to speak. “It’s candy. I promise. May I have another one?”

“Uh-huh.” She pulls one out and hands it to me before turning her attention back to the package in her hand.

As the fish disappear, she opens up to me. I get to know that her mother named her Maura before passing away. She has every right to be afraid of me with how she has been treated. Life has been unkind to her, and I feel I can change that.

Applause awakens me from my memory. I stand to join the applause. Graduates, their family, and their friends rise to mingle and rejoice. I seek out Maura, finding her waiting for me outside the double doors. She holds her cap in her hands nervously, smiling up at me as I approach.

“Hello, daddy.” She embraces me.

“I’m proud of you.” As she releases me, I hand her a small wrapped package.

She smiles up at me as her deft fingers pull the paper away. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Another small thing.” I smile as plastic crinkles.

She rips open the package and hands me a small gummy fish. I smile as my teeth sink into the sticky substance and a burst of cherry flavoring covers my tongue.