Dear freakish creepy clowns. My writing group gets together at the local Perkins because it cheep and it’s friendly, but I think a huge group a painted smiles is taking it a bit far. I don’t have an issue with clowns perse. I like going to the circus. I like parades. I can usually handle watching them bend phallic shaped balloons into the rough equivalent of animal shapes.
<- These clowns are nothing like that.
They parade themselves around like perfectly normal people with cross dressing issues and the innate ability to make a child laugh…or cry. They are sitting there laughing at their own jokes, sharing meal time conversation while sipping soda through a straw. I totally get that I’m an “adult” and should realize that they are people to, but come on!! I’ve got my limits.
I found said limit when I walking back from the bathroom by myself (my fellow writing group was too chicken to go with me) and as one, a mass of yarn hair and creepy smiles turned to stare at me. I know what they were doing;they wanted to know if I’d freak out or totally embarrass myself by asking for a picture (which I considered), but then it dawned on me- I was not the one in a costume. How did I become the freak show?
Get some Noxzema, wipe that smirk off your face and get a real job. There. I said it.
Before this post could go live, one my writing partners…we’ll call her the girl from shelikesitverbal.com insisted she wanted to get her picture taken with the clowns. I was standing there anyways so I had my picture taken too. Without further ado, here is a picture that will commemorate our time with the clowns at Perkins.
Thanks for the laughs and tears guys and gal.