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Last night I started watching Supernatural on regular TV at 9:00 PM. The creators thoughtfully vidded their own show at the beginning of the episode. I'm sure it would have been extremely spoilery if I hadn't been laughing too hard to really concentrate at things like a dramatic hospital scene followed by a male chorus yelling "HUH!" as a glass of liquid dramatically falls to the floor in slow motion.
Then the show began. It was at a carnival. There were clowns. Have I ever mentioned that clowns scare me? A particularly creepy clown waved at a little girl, in a slightly mechanical manner that made it even creepier.
"Look, Daddy," said the girl. "The clown's waving at me."
"What clown?" asked her mother. We see that from the parents' point of view, there is no one there.
I had a cat in my lap, or I would have leaped up and turned off the TV right then. (The remote is buried under a pile of junk somewhere.)
The family is driving home from the carnival at night. The clown is by the side of the road.
That night, the little girl is alone in her second-floor bedroom. She looks out the window. There, on the lawn below, looking up at her, is the clown.
I leaped up, dislodging the cat, and slammed the off button.
That night I was woken up in the middle of the night by my smoke detection giving off an obnoxious, high-pitched squeal to inform me that its battery was low. I couldn't figure out how to disable it, so I pulled a pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep. But it was still pretty loud, and then after a while I started hearing a different sound, a scratching, like my cats were molesting my wood furniture.
I got up to investigate, but the cats were nowhere to be seen. I went into the living room, and heard the sound again. I looked out the window.
There, on the lawn, looking up at me, was a clown.
Oh, no way, I thought. There is just no way I would see that TV show last night and then, in a total coincidence, find a clown on the lawn.
I looked out the window again. The clown was still there.
Then I heard the scratching noise again. I ran to the other window. Another clown had set up a ladder and was climbing up the side of the house.
I opened the window so I could talk to the clown. "What's going on here?" I asked. "What are you doing?"
The clown smiled and pointed over my shoulder. I whirled around. There was another clown standing behind me.
"What are you doing here?" I yelled. "How'd you get in? Get out!"
The clown smiled, picked up my five-pound dumb bells, and began to juggle them.
"Stop that!" I cried. "You'll drop them and scratch the floors! Go away!"
The floor creaked behind me. I turned around. The other two clowns were climbing in the window.
One of them took out a horn and honked it. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" it shrilled. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE..."
My eyes popped open. I was lying in bed, and the smoke alarm was squealing.
So it had all been a dream. Nothing but a horrible, horrible dream.
Or was it?
I hear a scratching at the win
Then the show began. It was at a carnival. There were clowns. Have I ever mentioned that clowns scare me? A particularly creepy clown waved at a little girl, in a slightly mechanical manner that made it even creepier.
"Look, Daddy," said the girl. "The clown's waving at me."
"What clown?" asked her mother. We see that from the parents' point of view, there is no one there.
I had a cat in my lap, or I would have leaped up and turned off the TV right then. (The remote is buried under a pile of junk somewhere.)
The family is driving home from the carnival at night. The clown is by the side of the road.
That night, the little girl is alone in her second-floor bedroom. She looks out the window. There, on the lawn below, looking up at her, is the clown.
I leaped up, dislodging the cat, and slammed the off button.
That night I was woken up in the middle of the night by my smoke detection giving off an obnoxious, high-pitched squeal to inform me that its battery was low. I couldn't figure out how to disable it, so I pulled a pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep. But it was still pretty loud, and then after a while I started hearing a different sound, a scratching, like my cats were molesting my wood furniture.
I got up to investigate, but the cats were nowhere to be seen. I went into the living room, and heard the sound again. I looked out the window.
There, on the lawn, looking up at me, was a clown.
Oh, no way, I thought. There is just no way I would see that TV show last night and then, in a total coincidence, find a clown on the lawn.
I looked out the window again. The clown was still there.
Then I heard the scratching noise again. I ran to the other window. Another clown had set up a ladder and was climbing up the side of the house.
I opened the window so I could talk to the clown. "What's going on here?" I asked. "What are you doing?"
The clown smiled and pointed over my shoulder. I whirled around. There was another clown standing behind me.
"What are you doing here?" I yelled. "How'd you get in? Get out!"
The clown smiled, picked up my five-pound dumb bells, and began to juggle them.
"Stop that!" I cried. "You'll drop them and scratch the floors! Go away!"
The floor creaked behind me. I turned around. The other two clowns were climbing in the window.
One of them took out a horn and honked it. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" it shrilled. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE..."
My eyes popped open. I was lying in bed, and the smoke alarm was squealing.
So it had all been a dream. Nothing but a horrible, horrible dream.
Or was it?
I hear a scratching at the win
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[1] This is the girl who reads horror stories for fun, because she doesn't see what's so scary.
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I was terrified of clowns until there was a Bozo thing for the upper school when I was a kid. They put the lunch benches in a circle and kids who had roller skates were allowed to bring them to school and clip them onto their school shoes, and the rest of us had to watch. So I watched Bozo--and when he came near I saw a line of sweat beads at his scalp over the face paint, and I sustained one of those sudden, sharp changes of POV--instead of a weird clown that was unfunny (doubly unfunny in his attempts to keep the "fun" going with the upper school boys being rowdy, rude, and generally horrible) he was a guy in a clown suit working hard and I felt sick on his behalf. After that I've never been able to see clowns, I see the outlines of the person, and see how hard they are working. I would never want that career--even waitressing was preferable.
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(or was it?)
I was never afraid of clowns until I read It. That could make anyone afraid of clowns.
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I am glad I have ferocious rats in the house that will protect me.
Oh wait, I've confused some other rats for mine, who would probably invite the clowns in, give them a good licking, and attempt to play with them all night.
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(I mean, I mute the volume when there's commercials for scary movies on TV.)
I don't really hate you. Just clowns.
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But I won't look under the bed or go down into the basement.
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shudder
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NOW I AM TRAUMATIZED FROM JUST READING THIS *POST*.