The Second Time

This is of course my way of telling you that for today, June 3rd, there is no hero of the day.

Let's flash forward a bit in (my) history, and discuss the second time I had a bit of a "run in" with clowns. After the first time, I was pretty wary of clowns, and did not really care to go to the circus again. However, I learned that the circus does not have a monopoly on clowns. I have a sister, and that sister decided, when I was about 22 or so, to produce an offspring. Now, that is all well and good, but I, being the loser I am, was still living with my parents. My parents who are now the doting grandparents of a child who hung the moon. Anything my niece, the little monster, wanted she got. Granny's house was a place where the rules of the world did not apply to her. If she wanted to watch cartoons, we watched cartoons, if she wanted to stand on the coffee table, she stood on the coffee table, if she wanted to punch her loving uncle, well she did, and got hit back because loving uncle doesn't like to be hit. Years of this behaviour went by, and I eventually moved out, but I still received a lovely invite to my niece's 7th birthday party. Of course hanging out with my parents, my sister, and a bunch of seven year olds was not high on my to do list, but there was a promise of free cake (I love cake), and since I was a starving student at the time, free food was a big enough prize to lure me to the party. I was invited only, and was not consulted about the guest list, or about the entertainment. I arrived on time like a dutiful son, all ready to tear into some cake and ice cream, and begin trying to studiously avoid any sort of contact with the other "guests" (I think children are disease factories). Everything was going as well as could be expected when my mother decided to spring her big surprise, and announce that for her only grandchild she had cobbled together the money, and sprung for Tully the Clown. Gleeful clapping from the children, and a look of horror (that was quite unnoticed) on my face. A clown? Why the hell did that lunatic hire a clown? Couldn't we have got a pony instead? By now free cake is no longer worth it, and I begin to try and think of ways to make a swift, but uncowardly exit. Too late. In tumbles Tully the Clown. I decided that a corner of the room far, far away from him would be the best place for me, and for a while things go as planned. However, thing soon took a turn for the worse (if they hadn't then I wouldn't be writing this post now would I?). I, being suspicious by nature, and having a prior "run in" with clowns begin to pay close attention to our buddy Tully the Clown. Remember the little family silver thing from my previous post? Well sure enough, our cheerful little clown was quietly pocketing what I considered to be, one day, my inheritance. Not that our family silver was worth a ton of money, but it was the principle of the thing. I pondered exactly what to do, I mean how do you confront a clown in front of a party of seven year olds when you are somewhat terrified of clowns? This could only go badly for me, but I felt the need to at least attempt to have a quiet word with Tully, and attempt to save what was left of the family silver. This, sadly, proved to be a mistake. A quite word, whilst he was outside on a "smoke" break turned into the recently purloined family steak knife being shoved gently against my ribs, and Tully whispering (with real menace) for me to "keep my fucking mouth shut, if I didn't want to ruin the party." Needless to say, I saw the wisdom of his argument, and besides what is a little family silver? I am sure it was just misplaced, or lost by some clumsy child, and will turn up eventually. And, since I didn't want to turn up face down by the docks, I thought that Tully's plan made perfect sense. Although he didn't beat me up, Tully made his point very clear, and this was the second time I was terrorized by clowns. It was not to be the last.