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French Phone

Original Owner: 
SpankyHam
French Phone
French Phone
French Phone
French Phone
Will's Terror Clown from Childhood

Will's Story that came with the French Phone:

I am scared to death of clowns. I've started trying to get over this fear by collecting the scariest clown shit I can find.

I wrote this funny story about it once:

Mr. Magoo is not to be trusted. The same goes for clowns. If the circus has one thing, it has clowns. It has clowns by the carload. Creepy, scary clowns menacing cross-dressing midget clowns. It was the worst.

I’ve got this clown phobia and it really all stems back to this clown picture that was in my room when I was a kid. My dad was a big clown fan, loved clown pictures, statues, figurines, anything with a stupid clown on it he liked. He even likes being a clown. Dressing up as one for the nieces and nephews. Dad shared his enjoyment by buying an Italian painting of a clown for my room. This clown was not a nice cute little clown though, it was a dark and menacing hobo clown, and the worst part is that it would watch you while you moved around in the room. It had those eyes that would follow you around the room. You know the kind of eyes I’m talking about. Those freaky ones that would see right into your soul and through you.

Thus the clown phobia started. Even at night, when the lights were out, I could feel that clown following me. I finally had to take it down. To this day, the clowns freak me out. I can’t even really be in the same room with them. They make me really nervous. The clowns at the circus were no exception. They were milling about the crowd before the show started and I had to steer clear of them. All freaking me out with their fake grins and orange fire hair. That evil scent of banana cream pies and seltzer water.

GiGi and I were wandering around the crowd just minding our own business, watching the clowns (from afar) and talking. I was talking to her when I almost ran right into an incognito clown, his hair was normal, no funny hat, no bright blue hair, he really didn’t’ have much makeup on, but he did have the funny clothes and shoes. I almost freaked. I had to get out of there fast. He was a sneaky fucker, but I didn’t fall for his semi-normal garb. I could smell the clown stink all over him.

I was much more comfortable at my seat in the audience. That’s when the real fun happened, the midget clowns. They were cool and short and mostly non threatening. I could almost enjoy them. They were at least humorous to a degree. I watched with mild amusement. Then I saw the most horrifying thing. During a skit about Marilyn Monroe, a sneaky midget clown jumped out of a box and was dressed like Marilyn, with the white dress and blond wig and everything. I thought I was going to bolt. It was like falling into some freaky Bizarro world where nothing makes sense. This demonic little cross-dressing clown was running around the rings acting creepy, like Marilyn Monroe had puked him up after one of her Quaalude binges. It was like watching some evil little sideshow at the Satan Carnival.

I suspect that the first clown, the one that got the whole clown business started was actually some awful love-child from the mating of a fiery, viciously mangled flying horned demon and a retarded French prostitute. I’m almost sure of this one. That would explain that Jerry Lewis fixation and Marcel Marceau.

The cross-dressing freak midget was enough to make me fully frightened of the ludicrous clownery that followed throughout the rest of the show. They were prancing around the rings like they just stepped off the short bus. They all had creepy hair and they wore their painted faux grins with stern seriousness. They pedaled horrendous monstrosities of bicycle craziness and somehow they stuffed 13 clowns into one of those new beetles. I suspect that they just used their clown evil powers to magically appear inside right before they came out. I was so hoping that the elephants would go crazy and stomp them into a mush of grease paint , fluorescent orange hair, oversized polka-dotted pant, and enormous shoes, but they didn’t. When the circus was done, I still had my clown fear, and it was reinforced a little by the mental image burned into my frontal lobe of a cross-dressing midget Monroe lookalike. It still makes me shudder.

While GiGi and I were waiting in the parking lot, I made up a little song about the circus clowns.

“Can anybody say circus?
Where the clowns come out at night and they eat up all your brains,
At the circus,
Where the grinning demons play and they like to slit your wrists.
Shout circus!
Full of Zombie clowns that would like to take you away.
Cirrrrcus, Cirrrrrrcussssss!
The army of the clowns will possess and eat your soul.
What fun at the circus?
Death defying acts of evil clownery
Come to the circus
Die at the circus.
They will eat your brains
They will take you away
To the awful pits
And make you their slaves.
Circus circus circus circus circus

It kind of fell apart there at the end, but you get the idea I hope. It was bad, it really did freak me out.