Bozo and I had been walking for miles, which would be years on the highway, when we ran into Curly. Good thing, too, because Bozo was being a total downer.
"Why the long face?", Curly asked him.
"Well, it's like this: I spent my entire life trying to make kids laugh. I was pretty good at it...Except that they didn't STAY laughing. They went to Korea and Vietnam and Grenada and Panama and Iraq, and when they came home, they weren't laughing anymore. They were crippled or dead or something was broken in their heads, and they never ever laughed again."
Bozo broke into tears at the end of his speech.
"Well, things like that happen", Curly said, "But you made them laugh for a little while. And that's better than nothing."
"But they're my children", the old clown sobbed, "And someone took them away and then they weren't children."
"I know, I know", Curly said, putting his arm around the clown's shoulders, "But to laugh for a time is better than to have never laughed at all. I, too, spent my whole life trying to make people laugh...And a lot of that was during the great depression and world war II. Those were some hard laughs, let me tell you. But we laughed anyway."
"I just want my children back."
"I'm sorry, Bozo. They can't come back", I interjected.
"GIVE ME BACK MY CHILDREN!", Bozo screamed, bursting into tears again.
"It's the way of the world, Bozo", replied Curly, "They grow up into a big bad world that does bad things to them. But at least they had a childhood, which wasn't always the case. And still isn't, if you go to certain places. And look, a mile ahead...There's a whole new crop of children. Do you want them to see a clown crying?"
"I suppose not", sniffled Bozo, "But what's the point? They'll just get taken away, too."
"And another bunch will follow after them. There's no point to all of it, Bozo, not really. You can't worry about tomorrow, you have to laugh today. That's what I spent all those years trying to tell people. Now run along...Knock 'em dead."
Bozo gave one last snuffle, and ran hooting and hollering toward the children, all of whom were hopping up and down in excitement.
"Not bad", I said to Curly, "You still have the touch."
Curly winked and smiled, and then started to tell me HIS story.
To be continued.
You're trying to make me cry, I can tell.
Bastard.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on November 08, 2012, 05:45:02 PM
You're trying to make me cry, I can tell.
Bastard.
Balls. Laugh while you can. That's all I'm trying to say.
I meant cry in a good way, like, "this resonates so hard" kind of cry.
Yeah. And it's got Curly.
Those guys took on HITLER.
I like where this is headed.
Wow.... that is all I can say at this point.
Scary and sad and true. The thing I hate about truth is that the really true things are kinda hard to gloss over and gussy up. They sit there staring back at you demanding you see them to stay sentient. And if you do, you win a bellyful of heartache and the knowing of that truth. Glass in your eyes and grit in your heart, wearing it down a little bit more. But if you don't, if you back away and turn a blind eye, you lose.
This was great. I'm looking forward to Curly's story.
I'm really digging this series and its combination of optimism and horrormirth.