I hate clowns. No, I mean I HATE clowns.
I think it might go back to that trip to the haunted house when I was 13. My "friends" had talked me into it and I was less than thrilled at the prospect of paying someone to scare the crap out of me. Anyway, there was a clown inside this haunted house. He was a big dude. Although, considering how small I was when I was 13, he may have been a munchkin, but he looked enormous to me. He had a baseball bat and was slamming it into the floor right next to my feet. I was trying to act non-chalant and not scared and failing miserably. (There was also a guy with a big-ass snake around his neck. Perhaps all of my phobias sprout from that one night...)
Then, again maybe my hatred of clowns comes from "The Cupcake Incident." That was in elementary and it was someone's birthday. There were clown cupcakes that had twice as much lard frosting as they did cake. I thought to myself, in my youthful naivete, "Forget the cake! Eat ALL the frosting!" And I did. And suffered the consequences an hour later.
I was thinking of clowns last night because there's a play that has rented out our theatre. Their set is a bar and one of the focal points is a pinball machine. A "fun under the big top" pinball machine. I arrived early for rehearsal (as usual) and was setting up chairs for our read-through.
And the clowns on the pinball machine were ogling me, debating whether they should roast me on a spit or fillet me and saute me with garlic.I mean, look at these clowns! They look like the type, don't they?!
Especially this one!!!
With the teeth and the scary eyes.... *Shudder*I can only imagine how terrifying it would be when it's all lit up and making circus noises. Thank God their show closes this weekend. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go make a molotov cocktail for them and their stupid little car.
