The Guild of Fallen Clowns

by Francis Xavier

  Okay, the good news is that Cheryl is okay. However, the reason she called Dale was to have him stop at the store on his way home. If Agor worked his magic, wouldn’t she do the shopping herself? Why did she call Dale? Shouldn’t she be cured? Then he remembered his own experience with Peepers. His progress was gradual. He still had a long way to go before he could say he was completely over his own fears. Cheryl only had Agor in the house for a few hours. He shouldn’t expect her results to be any different from his own.

  While his logic appeared sound, there was one outstanding question he needed answered before returning to Vince’s. He needed to go back to check on Dave.

  At Debbie’s apartment complex he pulled into the first open parking spot and shifted his car into park. With his keys still in the ignition he ran to Debbie’s apartment. He pressed the doorbell three times and then bent down to catch his breath. After waiting a good twenty seconds he resorted to knocking. He pounded his fist hard three times and waited again.

  “Oh, come on. Answer the door,” he said impatiently. He started to pace when the door opened. Debbie stood in the doorway wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Are you okay? Did Dave hit you?” Alan blurted out as he looked past her into the apartment.

  Debbie sniffed. “What? No, he didn’t hit me. Why would you think that, and why did you come back?”

  “Oh, that’s a relief. It’s just that you’re crying. I thought that maybe he hurt you.”

  “Dave wouldn’t hurt me. I’m crying because he left me.”

  “He left? Will he be coming back?” Alan said.

  “No.” Sniff. “He went back to his wife. He said it was over between us.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes, he suddenly realized that he loved her, and what he was doing with me was wrong.” Her eyes welled and she dabbed them with the tissue.

  Through tear-filled eyes she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you showed up and—” Her train of thought changed direction and she continued, “Why are you here again?”

  “Oh, right. Uh, I think Dave may have over-tipped me. He usually gives me a few bucks. This time he gave me a five.”

  Debbie used the soaked tissue to blow her nose. “Hold on a second,” she said. Leaving the door open, she went into the apartment. Alan watched as she retrieved the pizza box and returned. She held the box out and said, “Keep the tip and please take the pizza with you. I’m not going to eat it.”

  As Alan took the box, an expression of confusion quickly turned to horror on Debbie’s face.

  “It’s you!” she cried, apparently recognizing Alan as the pizza delivery clown from the previous night. Instantly, she backed away and slammed the door shut.

  Standing motionless, he stared at the door. First was the sound of the latching deadbolt. Then he heard her body lean into the secured door and slide to the floor. Finally, he heard the muffled sound of Debbie weeping.

  Alan slid one hand under the box and prepared to knock with his free hand. He felt horrible about his involvement in the frat party incident. He wanted to apologize and let her know he was tricked into doing it. With his closed fist raised and ready to knock, he considered the terrified girl on the other side and held back. He remembered how he felt in his own apartment with Lyle locked out, knocking from the other side. It wasn’t until the knocking stopped that he was able to feel secure.

  Knocking on Debbie’s door might intensify her fear. He lowered his hand but his heart still ached with the knowledge that she was petrified of him. He desperately wanted to set things right. If only he could tell her what happened, she might understand. Dropping to one knee to get closer and to minimize the level of his voice, he placed the pizza box on the ground and moved his face to the doorjamb.

  “Debbie,” he said softly. Before he could start into his apology and explanation, Debbie shrieked and scampered away from the door. Alan jumped back to his feet. His plan backfired. Now she was even more terrified than before. He couldn’t risk another attempt to gain her forgiveness. He picked up the box and briskly walked toward his car, handing the pizza to two young guys passing in the opposite direction.

  The two turned to watch Alan rush to his car. The guy holding the box looked at his friend, smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. The other commented that this must be their lucky day. He opened the lid, pulled out a slice, folded it, and took a big bite.

  *****

  Taking her last step down the stairs, Cheryl turned from the foyer toward the kitchen. She almost made it when she stopped and looked back at the box beside the front door. She must have passed by the package a half dozen times without taking notice. However, as she was close to passing again, something caught her attention. She turned her head to look back at it. Written in bold black marker across the top was her first name. She turned and approached the mystery package.

  Standing in front of it, she scanned the top and sides for additional information. There wasn’t a sleeve containing a packing slip. No labels with address information, bar code stickers, or any other clues indicating who sent it to her. She bent down, picked up the box, and examined the bottom on her way to the kitchen.

  “Okay, let’s see who sent this to me,” she said.

  She dug her index finger under the flap and tugged hard, breaking the taped seal. With the flaps open, she pulled away the top layer of crumpled paper, exposing the figure inside. She grabbed the small statue and removed it from the box. She held it out and looked at it from all angles before standing it upright on the table and returning her attention to the box. Digging through the remaining packing paper, she searched for a note from the sender.

  The box was empty, but Cheryl wasn’t ready to give up. She lifted the flaps on the inside bottom of the box to see if the packing slip got tucked out of sight. Again, she found nothing.

  She looked back at the figure and said, “Where did you come from? Who sent you?” Her concentration on the odd-looking figure was broken by the sound of her doorbell. She left the kitchen to answer the door. As she opened it, a child-sized person stood facing the other way. She couldn’t make out the sex or age of her visitor, but its pointed hat and inhuman pointed ears looked familiar.

  Before she could speak, the tiny person turned to face her. Its face and costume were identical to the small figure on her kitchen table. A sinister smile came across his face, sending her inside the house in a panic. She locked the door and cautiously leaned for a peek out the sidelight window. It stood on the porch rocking from side to side.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?” she yelled.

  He stopped rocking and looked back at her. He responded to her question, but she couldn’t hear him through the door.

  “Speak up. I didn’t hear what you said.”

  Still locked in her focus on him, he spun around on one foot and looked at her. She didn’t know what he was doing. His eyes rolled back and he let out a big sigh. Looking at her again, he raised his hand, pointed his finger to the ground, and rotated it in a circle pattern.

  More confused than before, Cheryl called out, “Just speak louder. Who are you and why are you here?”

  As he stood on the porch looking back at her, a voice from behind her said, “My name is Agor.”

  Cheryl spun around to see another replica of the figure on her table. However, this one was well over six feet tall and slightly pudgy. She backed into the door and raised her hands into a protective position across her chest.

  The figure smiled, and from the living room another voice continued, “I represent the Guild of Fallen Clowns.” Again, Cheryl twisted to face the direction of the voice. Facing her from the living room doorway was a third replica. This one was average in size and weight but otherwise identical to the other two. She backed away from the door into the dining room. As she did, the front door opened and the pint-sized figure entered the house. He looked at her and said, “On this day your life will change.”

  Cheryl continued r
etreating until her back was in the corner of the room. The little figure followed her steps and stopped about four feet from her. The other two busily moved the table and chairs through the foyer and into the living room.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she said. “My husband is a police officer and he’s on his way home now.”

  Tiny Agor smiled. The others finished removing the furniture and walked toward the small clown from opposite sides. They continued walking until the three figures merged into one, creating a fourth duplicate of new dimensions. This one was short and portly.

  The sight of the merged transformation caused Cheryl to tuck her face into her hands.

  “Oh my god, I’ve finally lost my mind. This can’t be happening to me.”

  With Cheryl’s hands still covering her eyes, Agor said, “Agor is not in your imagination. We are real and we were sent to help you.”

  Ignoring him, Cheryl continued her rant. “Dale will divorce me and have me committed. I’ll never see my girls again.”

  “Look at us, Cheryl. You aren’t losing your mind. Agor is here to help you.”

  Cheryl cried, wiping her eyes while she carefully lowered her hands and slowly raised her head.

  Agor smiled back at her. “See, Cheryl, we are real. Do you want to pinch us to be sure?” He offered his outstretched arm.

  “No, you can’t be real. It’s impossible. I’m going crazy.”

  “Please don’t say that, Cheryl. We are very real,” Agor said. Then he giggled nervously, triggering the flash appearance of at least a dozen multi-sized replicas of him in the room. Each one vanished as quickly as it appeared.

  Cheryl raised her hands to her face and scrunched her legs and elbows tight against her body. Her knees gave out and she fell to an upright fetal position against the wall.

  “Please excuse us. We have an uncontrollable anxiety disorder, which causes that to happen. As long as you follow our rules, we won’t grow anxious or angry and you’ll only have to see Agor’s small figure, the one you removed from the box.”

  Without looking up, Cheryl mustered enough strength to plead with the entity to leave her alone.

  Agor looked down at her, bunched in a ball against the wall. He grew impatient with her resistance to engage in conversation with him.

  “Perhaps you would be more comfortable with this,” he said. The fat figure in the room disappeared. Cheryl didn’t notice as her hands covered her eyes. A full minute passed without the voice so she peeked out from behind her hands. She was alone in the empty room. She lowered her hands and locked them together around her legs. Still too frightened to get up, she cried. As she did, she felt a gentle tug on her pant leg. She looked down to see a four-inch-tall Agor standing between her feet. Her eyes opened wide and every muscle in her body locked.

  The tiny figure looked up, and in a high-pitched voice one would expect from such a tiny figure, he said, “You can’t possibly feel threatened of us now.”

  She couldn’t look away. Agor continued, “Good. Now we can get to the rules. Agor is here to help you with your fear of crowded places. But we cannot help unless you always follow our rules. The first rule is to never, ever, ever reject or ignore Agor—”

  “Wait!” Cheryl cut in. “How do you know about that?”

  In frustration, Agor threw his arms up and said, “We’ll never get through this, will we?” Cheryl glared back at him. “Fine,” Agor conceded. “Agor was presented to you by someone who knows about your fear. We are here to cure you. Now, can we get back to the rules?”

  “Cheryl nodded, but before he could start talking, she cut in and said, “Wait, who sent you? Who sent you to me?”

  Agor took a step backward. As he did, he doubled in size. He took more steps back until his figure was once again life size, height and weight proportionate. He looked down at her with a stern expression. “That is a secret. Do not ask us again.”

  “But why can’t I know who sent you to me?” she asked.

  Agor’s nose flared as his eyebrows lowered and his lips puckered. “You just broke rule number one before I could even finish telling you the rules.” He followed it with a giggle which brought six replicas into the room. However, unlike with his previous giggle, these replicas didn’t fade away. Each altered shape of the original converged toward her corner of the room.

  Some leaned in while others kneeled and pressed as close to her as possible. They held random conversations with themselves as they stole every inch of her personal space. Cheryl shook uncontrollably. She tried to scream, but her short gasps for air prevented sound from escaping. The Agor who caused this display sensed that she was about to pass out. He waved his hand and the cluster was gone. Cheryl wheezed.

  Agor enjoyed watching her distressed state. “This is going to be fun.” He smiled.

  As her breathing stabilized, she begged, “Please don’t do that again.”

  Agor grinned. “We didn’t do that. You are the one who broke the rule. That was just a small sample of what will happen when you break our rules. The choice is yours. Do you want to be cured, or would you like to see more?”

  She shook her head. “No, please don’t do it again. How can you help me?”

  “We are so glad you asked. We believe this could best be answered with a demonstration. Stand up,” he commanded.

  “Why? What are you going to do to me?” she asked nervously.

  Agor stared down at her. Sensing his anger, she immediately stood to her feet. His face relaxed and he offered an approving nod.

  “Now move away from the wall,” he said.

  Cheryl complied and stood in the center of the room, within arms’ length of Agor.

  “Say my name,” he said.

  “Igor?” Cheryl replied.

  “Igor?” Agor shouted. He turned sideways and raised his hand, pointing to his shoulder.

  “Do you see a hump? Do we look like an Igor to you?”

  Cheryl’s body stiffened. He appeared angry and she needed to prevent him from giggling out another mob of space-intruding sidekicks.

  “I’m sorry!” she said. “Please forgive me. I’m scared and I must not have heard you correctly. Please don’t laugh.”

  Agor was pleased with her apology. He calmed down and stepped closer. Again, Cheryl apologized. His face slowly moved to within inches of hers and he whispered, “Agor, with an ‘A.’”

  Cheryl repeated his name. Satisfied, he backed away.

  “Rule number two,” Agor said as he started walking around her. “You must never tell anyone about us. If someone notices your adorable little statue, you will not tell them about the powers it holds.

  “Rule number three: You must never attempt to destroy our statue. We will stop you and you will pay a heavy price.”

  “A heavy price?” Cheryl questioned.

  From behind, Agor temporarily stopped his circular pace around her. He leaned in, and she cringed from the heat of his breath on her neck.

  “Do you love your children, Cheryl?” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Agor. Please don’t hurt my children. I won’t do anything to it. I promise.”

  Agor backed away and continued his path. “We thought so,” he said. “Rule number four: You must never distance yourself more than a half mile from our statue.”

  Cheryl nodded.

  “Now, this final rule will be the most difficult of all for you. Each day you must spend a minimum of one hour in the thickest center of crowds.”

  Panic overtook her. “No! I can’t do that. Please don’t ask me to do that. I’ll do everything you ask, but I can’t do that. Please, anything but that.”

  Agor smiled as she continued pleading.

  “We thought you would reject that one. You’ve just earned that demonstration we promised you.”

  Cheryl’s face turned to fear. “No, please don’t,” she said as she started backing to the corner of the room. Agor giggled and four figures appeared behind her, preventing her retreat. Those four giggled and
another group of at least ten Agors of various sizes popped into the room. All of them faced her and took turns giggling until the small room was packed with Agor figures.

  Cheryl was forced to the center of the room as the Agors pushed and shoved, her, and each other, in all directions. Her legs gave out, but the pressure of the tight crowd prevented her from falling to the floor. They talked and whispered to each other and to Cheryl as they squeezed past her. Too drained to scream, she felt her eyes drift inside her head. She appeared to be passing out, but it didn’t happen. Her eyes returned and she wept. Her head drooped and her entire body went limp in total surrender.

  One by one, the figures vanished from the outside in until just one Agor was holding her up from behind. Still weak from the experience, she made no attempt to stand free of him. Agor let out a single syllable of a giggle. Seconds later a tall, thin Agor entered the room carrying a dining room chair. He placed it beside the Agor holding Cheryl and faded from sight. Agor moved her into the seat and then knelt down on one knee in front of her. Her eyes, drained of life, raised to meet his.

  “We can do that all day,” he said. “Or you can get out among real people for an hour a day. We think we made our point.”

  She nodded as her eyelids closed. With the room silent for over a minute, her eyes opened. Agor was gone. She shifted from her slouched posture and scanned the room. It was clear. She hunched over in the chair and cried into her hands.

  Chapter 16

  Upon entering his kitchen, Alan noticed the blinking red light on his answering machine.

  “Hi, Alan, this is Paula. Hey, I know this is short notice, but we were hoping Boogy the Clown would be available Sunday afternoon for a kid’s party at our house. I know you’re probably busy. If so, I understand. Like I said, this is short notice. Anyway, we hope you can make it. Call me as soon as you can so I can make plans.” She gave him her phone number. As Alan wrote the number on a scrap of paper, a hard knocking came from his front door.

  He was halfway to the door when the impatient visitor pounded even harder.

  “I know you’re in there, Booger!” Lyle shouted.

  The sound of Lyle’s voice slowed Alan’s pace. He crept the rest of the way. Although he recognized the voice, he instinctively peeked through the peephole.