H The Old Clown and Horror Movies

Editor’s Foreword

By publishing this on Friday the 13th, we’re managing to combine coulrophobia with paraskevidekatriaphobia. There is also the possibility of a third for those who don’t recognize those words but suffer from bibliophobia and thus cannot look them up in the dictionary. And I have probably rambled on for far too long so let’s get to the story already.

You know, I have to admit that I thought you were just pulling my leg when you told me about this gig! A private session for a group of elementary school kids?”

“Come on, Joe! Why would you think that?”

“Because, Sam, you’re a clown, of course,” answered Joe giggling at the joke.

“Ah, true, true,” said Sam as he continued to apply white paint over his face. “But I wouldn’t lie about something like this! After all, I wouldn’t ask you to come out of retirement if there wasn’t something worthwhile about it.”

“I wish I could get the creaks out of my bones the way I can cover up all these wrinkles with paint,” admitted Joe as his soulful eyes stared back at him in the mirror.

“An old clown never dies,” Sam reminded him. ”He just makes slapstick ’til he doesn’t get up again!” he grinned.

“Speaking of slapstick, what’s with this face paint? It’s a lot greasier than my old one used to be.”

“New and improved stuff! Guaranteed to bring a shine to your audience!” laughed Sam.

The two men finished applying their makeup and added the final touches to their respective costumes. Colorful wigs, red noses, big floppy shoes, and white gloves topped off their polka-dotted jackets and pants.

“How tough of an audience do you think this is going to be?” asked Joe.

“You know kids today, Joey. They’re not as easily amused as in the old days. We’ve gotta work harder at it and speak more to their level. Trust me, I’ve got it covered,” smirked Sam.

They flopped and waddled their way out of the dressing room and made their way to the 5th grade class.

“Hiya kids!” yelled Sam as they burst through the doorway, making the children gasp and jump.

“Are you ready for some fun?!” asked Joe as he started to run into the middle of the room.

Just then, Sam threw out his leg, tripping him. Joe, tangled up in his own shoes and costume, could not raise his arms up fast enough and smashed his face on the side of a desk. As the kids jumped up out of the way, Joe struggled to his feet as he spit out his false teeth. He tried to raise his head and could only moan as the blood, shiny and slippery, streamed off his face. The children screamed and screamed.

Little Stevie K. screamed the loudest of all.

 

About the Author

Mike Aragona is a writer of fiction. His superhero parody books (The Mysterious Minute-Men) are readily available on Amazon and will strike a chord with anyone who grew up with the Adam West Batman television show.

 

Where to Find this Author

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Selected Books by this Author

     

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