Clowning Around
When she dared him, he knew he was in trouble. Was he a child
again? Feeling the pressure and knowing that he just had to do it?
Maybe. Or perhaps he wanted to get it off his chest, finally, after
all these years.
"Come on. You know you want to." Amanda poked him on the shoulder,
and then kissed the same spot. "Just tell me. You'll feel so much
better."
"You're never going to let this go, are you?" Lee closed his eyes
and leaned back against the headboard.
"Not on your life." She snuggled in next to him, burrowing under the
down comforter and resting her head on his chest. Her breath was
warm against his skin, as she traced ticklish little circles across
his stomach with gentle fingertips.
He slipped his arm around her and pulled her even closer, amazed,
again, at how lucky he was to have this woman in his arms. The least
he could do was come clean. There was no turning back now.
"You asked for it. It started when I was a kid . . ."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lee padded down the hall to Daddy's room, sucking his dirty thumb,
his tattered blue blanket trailing along the floor behind him. He
couldn't sleep. That thing in the closet kept staring at him--right
through the door. If he opened the door, it would eat him.
He never opened the door.
Every time he told Daddy, Daddy would follow him back to his room and
look in the closet, but it was always quiet then. Sneaky. Like Mrs.
LoVasco's ugly cat.
When Daddy left, it sat in there, just waiting. Real quiet. Its
wide, white face and stripy clothes made it look all happy, but he
knew what it really was.
It was bad.
Lee banged on the door. "Daddy? Mommy? It's doing it again. It's
looking at me."
The door opened, and Daddy pulled Lee into his arms. He wrapped
himself around his Daddy, arms and legs both, and held on.
"Kiddo, this is the third time this week." Daddy didn't sound mad,
just tired, and Lee felt bad. But not bad enough to stay in the room
with that thing. "There's nothing looking at you from inside the
closet, okay?"
It was, too, looking at him. Lee shook his head against Daddy's
shoulder as he walked back to the bedroom.
Daddy plopped him back in bed and tucked in the covers. "Now, you
stay right here, and I'll go look, all right?"
He pulled the blanket up to his chin and watched. Daddy was going to
open that door, and it was right there, waiting for him. Looking.
Smiling. Lee closed his eyes.
Daddy swung the door open and turned on the closet light. "See
Sport, look . . . nothing in here."
Lee opened one eye and peeked, but shut it again. Yep, right there,
looking. He didn't open his eyes again until Daddy sat on the edge
of the bed.
"It's all right, just close your eyes and go to sleep." Daddy's
rough hand touched his forehead, and Lee felt some of the scary
feelings go away. "Just sleep."
Lee kept his eyes shut tight until Daddy left, then he nibbled on the
tip of his thumb while he thought about it. Daddy and Mommy didn't
believe him. He stared at the closet door. He was a big boy.
He could get rid of it himself.
How? Lee thought and thought. Where did Daddy and Mommy get rid of
junk? They burned it in the metal thing outside. But he couldn't
start a fire; Mommy said never, ever, play with matches.
So where else could he get rid of it? Where else . . .
Downstairs, in the basement. The furnace.
Lee pulled the blanket over his head. Mommy said never go down there
alone. Never. It was dark, and cold, and had slippery steps, and
the furnace sat in the corner, fat and smelly, like the ugly old
troll in his nighttime book.
But, if he didn't do it, it would eat him. It would eat Mommy and
Daddy, too, and probably all the neighbors. He had to do it. He had
to save them all.
Lee slipped out of bed and padded to the closet door, his bare feet
scuffing on the carpet. Brave. He had to be brave. He jerked the
door open, and there it was, with its ugly grin and grabby arms.
He yanked a tee shirt down from a hanger and dropped it over the
clown. Before it could eat him, he grabbed it by the foot and ran
down the hall, trying hard to be quiet. It would be bad if Mommy and
Daddy heard him now.
There was the basement door, already open. It was dark in there, but
Lee was afraid to turn on the light. Someone might see it, and he
had to finish. He tripped down the uneven steps, the clown's head
thumping along behind him.
He could see, a little, in the light from the furnace. He made it
across the floor, and the clown hadn't eaten him yet. Maybe he could
do it.
Mommy would spank him if she found out that he touched the furnace
door, but he had to. He picked up the potholder that Mommy used and
slowly opened it.
The clown lay there, quiet, and sneaky. Was it going to stop him?
Lee didn't wait to find out. He grabbed it and stuffed it inside,
right into the flames. Nothing happened for a minute, and then the
fire rushed all over it.
It started to scream! It hissed and popped and bubbled as it's face
melted away, and Lee could see it staring at him. It looked mad. He
couldn't look away, and as it wiggled in the fire, one arm flopping
out the door to grab him. It was bad. It was . . . it was . . .
"MOMMY . . . DADDY . . ." Screaming, he didn't hear the thunder of
feet across the floor overhead, or see his parents stumbling down the
stairs.
"Oh, my God! Lee, what are you . . ." Mommy snatched him into her
arms, and he held on tight. "Why are you down here? You know
better."
Lee watched Daddy over Mommy's shoulder as he poked around in the
furnace with a stick. He buried his face in Mommy's neck when Daddy
pulled out the toasted clown. What if it wasn't dead yet?
"Oh, my . . . last year's Christmas present from the Director. " His
mommy looked almost sad. "What are we supposed to tell Director
Dulles? You keep telling him that horrible clown is Lee's favorite
toy."
"We won't tell him anything. The last thing I want to do is annoy
the Director." Daddy held the smoldering clown out in front of him
with the stick. "I'll toss this out before it stinks up the entire
house." Now, he looked mad. "When I come back, son, we're going to
have a little talk."
Maybe he'd get a spanking, but he didn't care. Lee looked at the
clown. He'd won. He'd saved them, even if they didn't believe. It
was dead.
Then, he saw it. He was sure. It winked at him.
He closed his eyes tight as Mommy carried him up the stairs.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Amanda, are you asleep?" Her head was still a comforting weight on
his chest, but her eyes were closed.
"No. I'm listening." She sighed and scooted up, looking him in the
eye. "So, what happened when your dad came back?"
"I got the spanking of my life," Lee said. "The next day, when I
looked, there was a padlock on the basement door."
He sighed and stretched. "It was worth it, though. That ugly sucker
never came back."
He pulled Amanda down beside him. "You know, that is probably the
clearest memory I have of my mom and dad. Strange, huh?
He felt her shift again. "Lee?"
"Hmm?"
"Is that it? Just a childhood memory?" She was looking at him
again. "That's the reason you're afraid of clowns?"
"It's one of them, and I'm NOT afraid of clowns. I just don't like
them. You know, talking about it helps. Kind of a relief, I
guess." He kissed her forehead.
Amanda trailed her fingers across his chest. "Wanna test it? I
could get the green wig and the shoes . . ."
Lee rolled her onto her back and straddled her, pinning his startled
wife to the bed. "Don't even think about it."
The End
Story Notes:
This a sequel to Send in the Clowns. I suggest you read that one first. Lee and Amanda share a late night discussion.
I wrote this one awhile back--for Cheryl-- to explain Lee's dislike
of clowns. I apologize to both Cheryl and Lisa in advance, for the
lack of anything resembling clown sex.
Thanks, Rita.
Timeframe: Late fourth year.
I wrote this one awhile back--for Cheryl-- to explain Lee's dislike
of clowns. I apologize to both Cheryl and Lisa in advance, for the
lack of anything resembling clown sex.
Thanks, Rita.
Timeframe: Late fourth year.