November 01, 2005

Janesville, Iowa

This is Part Four. The story began here.

At the end of the evening, the tired little carnival wound to a halt and the lights flickered out one by one. A few lingering yokels left wandering tracks in the dew down the midway, while the carnies let their public faces go and closed up their attractions for the night. A drunk straggler loudly wanted one last look at the Topless Lady.

"She's no lady, son, she's my wife. Now get on home. We're closed for the night."

"Buhh... wlalalwala... mhpgr... sheza boo... a baa... jeez shesh perty..."

"Come back tomorra night, we'll be right here. Now you go get some sleep, you hear?"

The drunk turned and stumbled off.

"Nrphnblbl... rrmb..."

In another tent, a young man set his top-hat on a trunk, stripped off a cheap false mustache, and sat down heavily in a folding chair. He rested his face in his hands and sighed. In a steel cage, two silent crouching clowns watched him with glittering, unblinking eyes. The younger clown swallowed anxiously and licked its chops with a long, pink tongue, showing gleaming white eyeteeth an inch long. The elder, grizzled and with the ugly scar of a long-ago clown bite on his neck, simply watched.

The young man sighed again.

"Time to feed you guys."

He dug two haunches of dripping meat from a cooler and gently handed them through the bars. The clowns seized the meat and devoured it frantically, snarling and snorting to themseves as they ate.

They finished the meat and politely handed back the bones. The young man whispered to the older clown.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to become like this. And about Mom, and... everything."

The old clown's face worked strangely. Sweat broke out on its forehead as it tried to reply. It uttered a strangled barking and a low moan, then finally a sound recognizable as speech. Its voice was distorted, inhumanly deep, the vowels painfully prolonged, but it was speech. The younger clown looked on uncomprehendingly.

"Iiittsss... ooookaaayyy... Juunniioorrr..."

Tears wet the young man's cheeks.

"I love you, Dad."

Comments:

Mr HA HA HA you are a tonic on such a crapulous Wednesday.
 
Chilling!

Have you sold the rights to HBO yet? I'm smelling original series here.
 
dr e - of cuosrse u ment imbreadign! on teh watars. aftar teh hoarse is gone.

jef - wel hes in a tent isn he? why cant teh tent be tron eh? eh?

dr m - havign sworon eternel emnity to crapulence i tahnk u for ur knid wrods.

jtp - right! its litl knowan but their cloasely ralatead to strafish.

ardnaste - im stil tryna get there poeopal to do lunch wiht my popel. which i dont have any pepal actuly so its a hard sel.
 
That's pretty fucked up, right there.

Genius.

--c.
 
If clowns are closely related to starfish, does that mean they can also throw up their own stomachs?
 
Wait a minute. The younger clown is Clowany, right? And the full-grown clown got shot in the last epsiode. So the older clown in the cage can only be Ed Bream, who must have been turned into a clown by a bite from the full-grown clown (all those years ago). So the young man who feeds them is Ed Bream's son.

Right?
 
odray - right!

i was woried it wulnt be clear but i didn wana make it to obiovious. mabe ill calarify teh spelign of 'junior' whan teh ol clowan says it.
 
i... uhh... wha'?
 
Where do the goiters around the ossuary fit in?
 
Right, but what happened to Mom? And the sister? Did they get calownified too?

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v189/plastic_turkeys/156060276.jpg
 
md - tehy fit in a srot of mosiac patarn.

autrey - mom left. but i culdn see any place to sitkc taht in. duno about sistar. probly maried a shoesalsmen.
 
http://www.shropshirestar.com/show_article.php?aID=38988

First Iowa, now Shropshire. One thing's for sure: this is just the start.
 
That's Saloppy thinking, Harry.
 
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