Send in the Clowns

My daughter, like so many girly-girls, loves to do crafts. She loves it so much that in the name of taming some of the chaos, I finally broke down and devoted an entire shelf in a closet to all of her crafting supplies.  One day while I was painting our guest bedroom ceiling, she asked if she could do some crafting. Thrilled at the thought of her staying occupied and out of the paint, I gave her the go-ahead. She was so excited and quickly decided to make a new magnet for the refrigerator.



Public Domain Image "Clown Face" by wpclipart.com

She worked hard on that magnet for a solid hour.  With different colored felt squares and other leftover pieces from other craft projects, she made a clown face.  With great fanfare she announced her completion of the project and quickly hung it on the refrigerator for all to see.

I tried to show excitement over her cleverly crafted artwork.  I did my best to swallow the lump in my throat and the goosebumps that were quickly raising up on my skin.  She had worked so hard and so diligently, but my enthusiasm was a bit lacking.

I'll admit it:  clowns creep me out.  It's like they're hiding some kind of evil behind all of that weird face paint and the goofy looking rainbow colored wigs.

I stood in the kitchen with a smile plastered on my face as I told my daughter what a great job she had done.  I searched for the positives of having Bozo the Clown on the refrigerator.  The only thing I could come up with was that it would definitely deter between meal snacking.

Many hours later after my daughter had unveiled her piece of art, I noticed Creepy the Clown was sitting a bit wonky.  It's bad enough to see a clown on the refrigerator, but it takes on a new level of eerie when it's looking at you with its head cocked to one side.  I went to straighten The Joker but it didn't budge.

Figuring the magnet was a bit stronger than I'd anticipated, I got a better grip and tugged harder. It still didn't move.  I tried to push up on the side that was sagging.  No luck.  I tried pushing down and even side-to-side.  That blasted clown wasn't budging.

Bozo the Clown sat there with its pom-pom eyes and creepy, crooked smile, taunting me to try and straighten him out. Childhood nightmares started flooding back and haunting me with each futile attempt to move this ghoulish creation.  My imagination ran wild as I envisioned a clown army arriving in one tiny Volkswagen ready to launch an invasion on my home.

With the hair standing up on the back of my neck like a scared cat, I yelled for my daughter.  She quickly arrived in the kitchen and I pointed to her clown that had gone askew.  She laughed and reached up to move it.  Creepy the Clown did not even move a fraction of an inch. 

"Ok, that's weird", she said.  She grabbed hold of the clown by the sides of its face and pulled with all of her might.  All of a sudden, the clown's head separated from the magnet causing my daughter to fall back a couple of steps. 

'Dear heavens, she's decapitated the thing!', I thought.  I just knew the clown minions were going to be knocking down our door any minute.

But wait!  She had decapitated it.  Technically, the evil clown was dead.  He couldn't get on his funny phone and call in the Volkswagen cavalry now.  The only thing he was good for now was the trash can.

I started to breathe again when I realized that much like when Dorothy threw the bucket of water on the Wicked Witch of the West in "The Wizard of Oz", this clown's reign of terror was over.

What remained of the artwork on the refrigerator explained why the clown hadn't moved when we'd tried to reposition him.  It totally explained its creepy, sinister look of glee.

Apparently my husband had accidentally put a bottle of Super Glue in my daughter's crafting supplies instead of in his supplies.  When she created The Joker and carefully placed him on the refrigerator, he thought he would have the last laugh by permanently adhering himself to a surface where he could cast evil grins for the next 15+ years. 

We had foiled the crazy clown's plot.  His caper was discovered and he was where he belonged - in the trash.  But, there was still a lot of Super Glue stuck to my refrigerator, which meant I would always remember what had once been there.

I knew I had to eliminate all traces of him so I could open the refrigerator door without trepidation.  With just a few simple keystrokes and the power of Google, I had the answer to removing him from my life permanently.

I quickly got to work.  A few dabs of acetone-based nail polish remover and his creepy smile was turned upside down as the Super Glue was quickly removed, along with any trace of his presence.  Creepy the Clown was off to the local landfill and my refrigerator was now shiny and clean.  His reign of terror was now conquered, the clown army was defeated before it ever had a chance to organize, and their clown Volkswagen was just another heap of metal in the local junkyard.

In the battle of Redheads vs. Clowns:  This time the Redhead -1; and Creepy Clown - 0.


Written by Christie Bielss

Rollercoaster Memories

Right-side up.  Upside down.  Twists, twirls, turns, flips and drops.  Oh the fun, and terror, of the rollercoaster ride.  It gets the endorphins rushing through your body and gives you a feeling of exhilaration that's hard to replicate.

I used to love going to Six Flags Over Texas and riding the Judge Roy Scream.  It went fast .... super fast ..... for back in the 80's.  I liked how it felt to have the G-forces lift me up off the seat and press me against the restraining bar as the rollercoaster went hurtling down that first hill.  And then I grew a little older and a new sense came into play ........... the sense of impending death.

My husband and I were newly married and decided to go to Six Flags with another couple.  With a little bit of coaxing they got me on the Shock Wave, a ride with a double loop.  I loved going fast, but going upside down - twice - brought out that new sense.  I sucked it up, signed my Last Will and Testament, and boarded the ride.  We climbed a gigantic hill, went around a curve and then dropped like a rock down the huge hill leading into the double loop.  "Keep your head back" my husband yelled.  Too late.  My head was off the headrest just enough that the G-forces pushed my head so far forward  I could see every piece of gum hidden on the underside of all the seats.  At the end of the ride, my husband convinced me to ride it again with the promise that he'd help hold my head back.  The other couple thought that was a great idea and oh how I'd get to experience the fun of the ride this time.

Not wanting to miss out on anything fun, I agreed and we reboarded the ride.  We climbed the big hill again, rounded the corner and dove down the hill.  The next thing I know I've got my husband's gigantic, muscular, hairy forearm plastered to my forehead pressing my head back against the headrest.  It was at this moment that I realized having your head shoved between your knees far enough to kiss your derriere good bye was actually more entertaining than having a view of sweaty arm hair.  A plus to having your head shoved down is that you are already in the crash position should something dire happen during the ride.  There is no plus to a sweaty arm on your face.

With this coaster under my belt and the fact that I have survived, albeit with a little less dignity, the group coerces me into riding the Cliffhanger.  As we are standing in line and I watch what amounts to a construction elevator free-fall nearly 13 stories, I get a little niggling in the back of my mind that maybe this isn't such a good idea.  As we boarded the ride, they gave us instructions on the do's and don'ts.  Do hold onto the grab bar and sit up straight.  The only don't I remember was "if you're going to throw up, throw out, not down so it doesn't come back on you or the other occupants".  Ummm..... yeah, this isn't looking good.

As this rickety looking contraption started lifting us up, I started to freak out.  My husband's friend pulled out a penny and as the ride reached the tip top and pushed us out over the drop zone, he asked us all which will land first, us or the penny.  We were making our predictions when we suddenly dropped into a 128 foot free fall...... nearly 13 stories.  I opened my mouth to scream but the terror and G-forces were so great that nothing escaped my lips. Sheer unmitigated terror.  That is how I would describe this ride.  My fingers had to be pried off the grab bar to extricate me from the ride.  Someone may have closed my mouth and told me to breathe as well, but I don't remember anything other than the fact that the penny our friend released upon dropping, landed after we did.

My body was shaking so badly I could barely walk and I was led to a bench to regain control of myself.  As my mind slowly became untangled from the web of terror that had ensnared it, I looked at my husband and said "Y-Y-You d-did s-s-s-sign y-your Wi-Will r-r-right?  C-c-cuz I'm g-gonna k-k-kill y-y-you wh-wh-when I q-quit sh-sh-shaking.".  That was the day he learned the lifesaving qualities of chocolate...........

by: Christie Bielss