The Good, the Bad, and the Clowns


James’s Note: Just in time for Halloween, enjoy a story about clowns. Just because people are afraid of them, doesn’t mean they’re all bad. It doesn’t mean they’re not all creepy, but they’re not all bad. Don’t forget to vote for this story in Halloween contest. I mean, come on, hobo clown.


I ran for my life through the carnival, my son in my arms. “Don’t look behind us buddy, it’s going to be ok.” His head was buried in my chest as he clung to me like a baby possum.

Behind us, a demented cackle rang out as a creature straight out of my worst nightmare rounded the corner of the food stall. It would have looked like a clown, except for the bleeding eyes and a mouth full of razor blades. Talons caked with black bile burst from it’s white gloves and oversized shoes. 

I bent my head and tried to run faster, calling for help. Don’t ask me who I thought was going to be able to save us from a nightmare demon clown, but I didn’t really have a better plan, so I went with my instincts and screamed my head off.

My heart almost exploded when I smashed full speed into one of the carnival workers. He was dressed as a clown, but of the noticeably non evil variety. Ok, maybe his whole hobo theme was a little politically incorrect by modern standards, but he didn’t have freking razor blades in his freaking mouth, so I was willing to over look it.

I steadied myself from the crash, both of us managing not to fall over. The hobo clown gave a big goofy laugh. As a matter of fact, it sounded almost exactly like Goofy. 

“Easy there, Chief. Where’s the fire?” He honked his big red noise for punctuation.

“Man, you gotta run! That thing is going to kill us!” I paused only for a second as I pushed past and dove behind a game stall. I twisted as I fell to land hard on my back, trying to protect my son. I peeked around the stall and saw the monster come up short as the hobo clown stepped in front of it. Oh God, this guy was going to die.

“Whoa there, Buster.” The hobo held out his hand in a comically exaggerated stop gesture. “You look like you need a balloon animal.” He pulled several balloons out of his pocket and quickly began blowing them up.

The nightmare clown tilted its head and let out a screaming laugh. It began stalking towards the poor guy, murderous intent all over it’s deformed face. I wanted to look away, but couldn’t

“What’s your favorite animal, huh? I bet you like lions.” With almost superhuman speed, the hobo clown began assembling a balloon animal lion. It just kept getting bigger and bigger until the clown was holding a balloon lion’s head the size of a pony. 

Impossibly, the lion began to move on it’s own in a silent roar. The monster lunged forward for the kill just as the lion’s mouth closed over its head. The monstrosity struggled and screamed, but the lion’s balloon teeth held it fast. The lion whipped its head around and started swallowing the demon clown like a python.

The monster lashed and fought, but it’s talons couldn’t tear the lion’s rubber. I watched as it disappeared into the balloons. I had never noticed how much they looked like intestines until that moment. The hobo clown let go of the balloon and it shot off into the night, deflating as it went. He turned around and peeked at us over the stall. 

“You fellas ok, there?” He gave another of those Goofy laughs.

I just lay there speechless. My son finally lifted his head and looked this clown dead in the eye. “Are you one of the good clowns?” he asked with the gravity of a four year old.

“Why of course I am. Here, have a sucker.” My son looked to me. At this point, why the hell not. I nodded and he took the sucker. He reached out his hand to give the clown a solemn high five, which the clown ceremoniously returned. 

The clown turned and was walking away as I called after him, “Wait! What the hell just happened?”

The clown gave another big, Goofy ‘hyuck’, honked his nose again, and disappeared.


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