Tagged: clown

I Caught a Glimpse of Myself in the Mirror

  • by jen“wiggle room”
  • triggered in error by spiders
  • air conditioned, soundproof tent
  • he called it vertigo
  • makes things erotic

Tune in next time part 847      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and nearly laughed for real. I looked like a contestant on “Wiggle Room” — that old Svenborgian dance competition where the music all sounds like synthesizers triggered in error by spiders in the electronics. The show was filmed in an air conditioned, soundproof tent in the Svenborgian desert so that the music and the screams of the dancers wouldn’t disturb any neighbors. I loved that show, but Jason didn’t. He called it vertigo-inducing, as if that wasn’t the best part.

Titania snapped her fingers, causing the nanobots inhabiting my garments to pulsate in perfect synchronization. “That throbbing makes things erotic, don’t you think?” she purred.

I wasn’t sure what was so erotic about wearing two layers of clothes, but I nodded anyway. Anything to appease the Crystal Clown.

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Whose Room had I Blundered Into?

  • by jenstole a sideways look
  • grunting and thumping downstairs
  • I think it was, like, 3 AM
  • octopus farms would be
  • I think I broke your toilet

Tune in next time part 845      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Whose room had I blundered into? I stole a sideways look to try to find out, but saw no one. In order to see, I’d have to turn the whole way around, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. The voice sounded slightly menacing, and also slightly familiar.

The voice continued, “Did the noise keep you up last night? All that grunting and thumping downstairs? I think it was, like, 3 AM when it started. It was coming from where the octopus farms would be if Fleur had stuck with the original schematics, but since she changed things, it was coming from the private bathroom off your office, General. I must apologize. None of this would have happened if Fleur hadn’t moved the octopus tanks. I had too many churros, and, well, I think I broke your toilet.”

Who was the silky voiced woman behind me? How did she know so much about this airship? And had she really been planning to poop in the octopus tank? I whirled around and my blood ran cold. Titania, the Crystal Clown.

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My Dash

  • by Kentrolled out from underneath
  • “If I’m going camping, it’s going to be inside.”
  • so many novelty ice cream flavors
  • want to spritz myself with oranges and attract hornets
  • on the clown shoes

Tune in next time part 772      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My dash for the nearest exit from the chapel knocked over several tall candlesticks, but I didn’t slow down until Tessa and I were in the corridor and I’d pulled the door shut behind me. A lone candle rolled out from underneath the door, leaving a trail of wax.

Tessa’s trance broke the moment she was unable to see the Moon King’s socks. “I think I saw something catch fire back there,” she said.

I wasn’t too bothered for Pamplemousse’s safety, but a blaze would put the whole airship at risk. I grumbled, but I opened the door back up to see a cheery fire roaring in the center of the chamber. It consisted of dozens of those damned candles arranged with their wicks together. It looked like an emoji of a campfire, but the heat was all too real. Pamplemousse, meanwhile, was in the process of draping his cloak over a pew to make a tent. He noticed my return, but seemed unfazed, merely saying, “If I’m going camping, it’s going to be inside.”

“We can’t trust him to control that fire,” Tessa protested.

“Why not come with us,” I reluctantly offered. “We’re going to the cafeteria for some treats. No place has so many novelty ice cream flavors like a Contrarian Royal Airship.” The idea of continuing to deal with this lunatic made me want to spritz myself with oranges and attract hornets.

“Sure, that sounds wonderful!” Zeus Pamplemousse enthused. While he collected his cloak and hurried to the door where I was beckoning, Tessa sought a way to put out the fire. The area around the altar held the emergency vestments for a wide range of religious orders. This included the Alamode Evangelicals, whose outfits and facepaint are far too flammable to be of use, but Tessa was able to smother the blaze using the carton the clown shoes were stored in.

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I Burst into the Bistro

  • by jenchanged the course of music history
  • spoiled his dachshunds
  • it’s weird that neither of them is a llama
  • some circus people
  • arrived with two children

Tune in next time part 683      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I burst into the bistro. “Give me a chilled fork immediately!”

“Oh, wow!” said the wispy teen behind the counter. “You’re Jason!” Before I could correct him he said, “Your sick rhymes about prenuptial agreements changed the course of music history, and my mom’s second marriage. She married this guy who spoiled his dachshunds something awful, but thanks to your song she was able to force him to buy her some pets of her own. It’s weird that neither of them is a llama, cos llamas have always been her favorite, but she seems happy.”

“A fork dammit,” I demanded. “Chilled. Now.”

“Sure, Jason. Anything for you.”

While he went to the cutlery freezer the bistro door opened and some circus people arrived with two children. Two identical children who looked an awful lot like all the others on board, which meant they were probably mine. Was their mother one of the Russian contortionist sisters? Or Titania, the Crystal Clown? Or some other circus-adjacent woman altogether?

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I Didn’t Like the Way Hildegard Kept Insisting We were Married

  • by jenattempting to impose a sense of order and restraint on what is inherently an indulgent act
  • I was in a very famous TV show
  • a clown doll that sings
  • took them to a houseboat
  • complicated and bizarre

Tune in next time part 631      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I didn’t like the way Hildegard kept insisting we were married, but I liked even less how she kept trying to help me pee. She assured me she was merely attempting to impose a sense of order and restraint on what is inherently an indulgent act. I disagreed that solo urination was indulgent at all. If we were, in fact, legally married, this was proof that it would never work.

“Tell me about yourself,” I said, hoping she’d get distracted and I’d be able to pee in peace.

“When I was a child I was in a very famous TV show here in Bumpengrynd. My costars were a clown doll that sings German folk songs, and a little old sea captain. The sea captain collected orphans, including myself and the singing clown doll, and took them to a houseboat in the lagoon where he made us all wear wooden shoes while he cooked spaghetti, wrote sinister poems, and painted imaginary landscapes.”

“It sounds complicated and bizarre.” I said. “What was it called?”

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Ignoring the Struggling Bear

  • by jenfamously hard to train
  • But this technique you’re practicing
  • impaled his foot
  • mascara stains
  • an expired clown license

Tune in next time part 515      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Ignoring the struggling bear, and Nurse Marnie as well, Brady said to Scrim, “As you know, storm clouds are famously hard to train, but Dr Thunderboom has devised a technique. Isn’t that right, Dr Thunderboom?”

I nodded solemnly, watching Marnie and her ursine companion from the corner of my eye.

Scrim approached the fountain. “I’ve done a lot of research into weather control, and I’ve always been disappointed. But this technique you’re practicing, Thunderboom, this training regimen — you say it really works?”

“Absolutely.”

Scrim stared, wide-eyed with wonder. Behind him, Brady gestured for me to elaborate. I didn’t see the point. Scrim had already bought my story, his eagerness to control the weather eclipsing his skepticism.

I pointed to the clear blue sky. “It was supposed to rain today, but you can see my results for yourself.”

Brady rushed forward to deliver his planned interruption, but in his haste impaled his foot on a salmon bone from the bear’s earlier meal. He shrieked in pain, which certainly derailed any further talk of weather control devices. Blood spurted from his injury, and mascara stains streaked his cheeks as he began to cry.

Marnie took advantage of the distraction to hoist the bear out of the fountain. She hopped onto his back like a bareback rider at the circus, and he carried her away into the garden at a fast waddle.

The yowls still coming from Brady were ear-splitting. I leapt out of the fountain and went to see about shutting him up. I grasped the fishbone and tugged it out, then wrapped my soggy mountaineering shirt around the wound as a bandage. Brady whimpered.

“You impress me, Thunderboom,” Scrim said. “What are you doing working for a clown like Brady? You should join me and the Tap Dancers if you want a taste of real power.”

“A clown like Brady?” I scoffed. “I guess you hadn’t heard, but the only clown license Brady has is an expired clown license. He traded his greasepaint for that tattoo on his chest when he joined up with Jorgensen’s pirate crew.”

Kabbadan Scrim gasped.

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This Life I’ve Been Living

    • by jenno good for my health
    • unexpected circus
    • wearing lipstick and satin pants
    • “You’re drunk.”
    • glitter in your vagina

    Tune in next time part 409      Click Here for Earlier Installments

    This life I’ve been living is no good for my health, or my sanity. As soon as whoever was ventriloquizing Mingus made him utter the words “Frozen Yogurt Robot” I knew that things were about to take an unexpected circusward lurch, and if I wasn’t careful I’d soon be wearing lipstick and satin pants and all the rest of it, performing at a child’s birthday party.

    “If you think I’m going to dress up like a clown on Wednesday, or any other day, you’re drunk.” I pointed at the trio and their unsettling puppet. “You’re drunk.”

    “Are all the men in your family assholes?” Tatiana said. She went on in a mocking imitation of my deep voice, “Now that you’ve got my magnificent magical baby glitter in your vagina, babe, I’ll be on my merry way. I’ve got lots of asshole business I gotta do.”

    “None of this was my idea!”

    Mingus’s wooden head swiveled to look at me, and his stiff eyelids clicked in a blink.

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In My New, Imposing Uniform

  • by jenthis “polar madness”
  • cheekbones sharp as blades
  • her gawky way of walking
  • like ink in water
  • like an awkward and unlucky lover

Tune in next time part 387      Click Here for Earlier Installments

In my new, imposing uniform I turned to my captive French spy. He cowered before my resplendency like an awkward and unlucky, loverless wretch in a cheap suit.

“Describe the Russian sister who sent you,” I demanded.

Beguiled by the small brass squirrels atop my epaulets, he forgot his earlier filibustering. “Her hair was long and pale blond, liquidy yellow, like ink in water.”

That described both Svetlana and Lyudmila. “Go on,” I said. Behind me, Aloysius was gathering up his many tools while his monk-like cohorts quietly entertained the children.

“Her hips were narrow, which I think added charm to her gawky way of walking.”

Again, that could be either sister.

“She had cheekbones sharp as blades, and shoulder blades round as cheeks. My need to make love to her was like the polar madness I experienced in my youth when l’Academie sent my team to l’Antartique, and I suffer with it still. Our consummation will be my reward for completing my mission.”

He was doing all this for her, whichever sister she was, and he’d never even banged her? This “polar madness” of his must have caused frostbite on his brain.

And I still didn’t know which sister had sent him.

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I Scraped the Green Frosting Off a Grape

  • by jentake a long shower
  • It’s funny!
  • I wonder if all the chickens and pigeons
  • I fantasize about the hospital
  • married 11 times to 9 different men

Tune in next time part 375      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I scraped the green frosting off a grape and looked at my wife. “Don’t you want me to at least take a long shower first?”

“You Americans are so hung up on hygiene,” she laughed. “It’s funny!” She guided my hand to my mouth and inserted the grape. Her lips parted and her breath grew heavy as she watched me pop the fruit with my teeth to release the wine inside. “More!” she cried, and shoved another grape in, this one still encased in sickly sweet icing.

For the next ten minutes Fleur fed me Inimical grapes, until I was quite drunk and she was quite breathless. My wife is lovely, and seeing her so aroused sparked my own desire. Despite my earlier protestations I found myself ready, willing, and able to do as she commanded.

“We must, of course, observe tradition,” she said. “I’ve been reading the ancient texts concerning the first sexual congress following the birth of twins, and it’s quite specific.” She stripped me of my new uniform and shoved me down onto a platter of grapes. The tiny fruits burst under me and soon I was laying in a puddle of their cold juice.

“I wonder if all the chickens and pigeons we need as witnesses will fit on the table,” Fleur said. “Or if we’ll need to pull another one over.” She doffed her gown while a string of chefs appeared, each carrying a live bird which he nestled onto the table around me. Contrarian rituals are often surreal, but this was beyond anything I’d seen before.

I tried to tune out the poultry, the glowering Harry and the rest of our audience, but it was difficult when Isolde was so nearby. She kept her eyes glued on my nakedness as she leaned her head toward Harry and said, hand on her stomach, “I fantasize about the hospital where I will give birth to our child, darling Harry. Don’t you?”

Harry growled.

Fleur climbed onto the table and stood over me as a crowd formed around us. The alleged clown spy said, in a heavy French accent, “I always thought the women of Contrarian royalty had to be married 11 times to 9 different men. Where are the other 8?”

Fleur’s toes tapped against my hips, imparting a coded message about her plan to thwart the clown.

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“Time’s A-Wasting, General”

  • by Kentpartially filled with wine
  • does not mean I can’t recognize a sad French clown when I see one
  • running towards us with a test-tube in his hand
  • “Who says I have intentions?”
  • over and done with before happy hour

Tune in next time part 374      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Time’s a-wasting, General,” my wife said. “Eat up. I want to have this over and done with before happy hour.”

I looked at the grapes, knowing it had been she who arranged them to spell that message. “Think of your station, Fleur. This is a public place. Perhaps not an ideal venue for me to comply with your intentions.”

“Who says I have intentions?”

“I do,” I replied wearily. I gestured to the plate in front of me. “And the grapes back me up on it.” I sighed. “And with the way my luck has been lately, we’ll no sooner get started than some zealot will come running towards us with a test-tube in his hand, trying to intercept my delivery.”

“You are no doubt correct,” Fleur surprised me by saying. “It will be him, the spy I pointed out to you. I haven’t been to Paris in many years, and of course he’s wiped away his face paint, but all of that does not mean I can’t recognize a sad French clown when I see one.”

The last clown I’d seen up close had been Titania, who was neither sad nor French, at least not when she left.

“Eat the grapes, husband. You’ll like them. Being grown in the Inimical vineyards, they are already partially filled with wine.”

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