Send In The Clowns
Since I’m a bus driver and since it’s spring I’ve been taking advantage of some sweet, sweet overtime in the form of after school field trips. Unfortunately that leaves my empty bedroom fair game for my family and their twisted sense of humor.
If I’ve never mentioned it before let me say it now; I hate clowns. I mean, motherf–cking HATE clowns. And dolls. And mannequins. And ventriloquist dummies. Especially ventriloquist dummies. This information translates to one thought amongst my family members and that thought is this:
BUY MOM LOTS AND LOTS OF CLOWNS. AND DOLLS. AND VENTRILOQUIST DUMMIES.
Now, what I do love are clocks. This is the “get out of jail free” card my children played when explaining the motivation behind their latest purchase.
People, this is a clock with an ACTUAL photograph of an obviously disturbed individual posing as a clown. This uploaded photo doesn’t do justice to the three-dimensional illusion painstakingly added by the manufacturer to give it a more “life-like” quality. As if my screaming in surround sound wasn’t enough.
Then there is the double whammy junk punch of the sadistic Doll/Clown combo. Seriously, what child wants to play with these? I bet little John Wayne Gacy knew.
Last, but not least, is Mortimer. Yes, that is a ventriloquist dummy on top of my dresser and his name is Mortimer. MORT (death in Latin) – imer. Mortimer wants to eat my soul. I know because he whispers this over and over again all night long. I’ve made it a point to begin kicking puppies and stealing popsicles from small children in order to rid myself of my soul before he can get to it. That’ll show him.
I suppose this blog post can be summed up with the sad thought that my Busey clock is the most “normal” thing in my room.