The Guild of Fallen Clowns

by Francis Xavier

  Alan let go of his key and sighed. He turned, leaned his back to the door, and looked at Lyle’s face. Lyle tried in vain to retain eye contact, but the whole time his eyes shifted from side to side and down to the floor. There was no question in Alan’s mind that Spanky was responsible for Lyle’s sudden transformation.

  “Forgive you? I think I should be asking you to forgive me.”

  “Why?” Lyle asked.

  “I did a bad thing, Lyle. You probably don’t realize it, but the only reason you are being nice to me is because of that clown figure I left you this morning. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I believe that it has—well, it has powers. Those powers changed you, and this isn’t who you really are. I shouldn’t have given it to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that, Alan. I came over here to apologize for breaking your windows. Listen, I want to make it right. Drop your car off at my shop tomorrow and I’ll fix them.”

  “Are you sure? Like I said, this doesn’t sound like you. I’m afraid you’re only offering to do this because of Spank—”

  Lyle’s face froze and he found the strength to meet Alan’s eyes with his own as he cut him short. “Please, Alan, I’m trying really hard here. I don’t know what you are talking about, so please—just listen to me and stop with that talk. I broke your windows and I want to replace them. Can you just drop your car off tomorrow, so I can do the right thing? Is that too much to ask—buddy?”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what. Give the clown figure back to me. If you still want to fix my windows, fine. I’ll bring the car in. I just want to be sure you aren’t making this offer due to some sort of spell you might be under from the figure.”

  “I can’t do that,” Lyle said.

  “You can’t? Why not? Just go get it and bring it back to me.”

  Alan’s insistence pushed Lyle dangerously close to snapping and earning himself another round of Spanky’s punishment. He took a couple of deep breaths to retain his composure. “Please stop talking about that. I broke your windows, right?”

  “Right,” Alan replied.

  “Well, then, why shouldn’t I be responsible for fixing them? If you broke mine, I would expect you to pay for the repairs. Why can’t you just leave it at that and let me do the right thing?”

  “Okay, I’ll drop the car off, but I’m still concerned that—”

  “I have to go now,” Lyle said. He turned and rushed across the hall and through his open apartment door. “See you tomorrow, bud.” He abruptly shut the door behind him without leaving Alan the opportunity to respond.

  *****

  Geno stood alone in the empty parking lot as Alan drove in and parked beside him. Geno glanced in the back seat before greeting him. “Is that them?”

  “Good morning to you too, Geno.”

  “Oh, sorry. Good morning, Alan. I’m just really nervous.”

  “That’s okay. I’m just messing with you.”

  Geno nervously reached for the back door handle.

  “Hold on. I’m still not sure about this,” Alan said, waving Geno’s hand from the door.

  “But you brought the molds, right?”

  “Yes, that’s them, but before I turn them over to you, I need to know if you have a backup plan. If there’s one thing I learned about Peepers, it’s that he’s always thinking five steps ahead. When dealing with him, you have to have a plan B. If this doesn’t work, we’re screwed. Do you have a backup plan?”

  Geno smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do. It’s drastic, but it should work. I’ll burn the Labyrinth to the ground. Peepers can’t touch me outside.”

  “Burn it down? That sounds a bit extreme. It’s where you work. What would you do without the Labyrinth?”

  “I should have done it years ago, but he was trapped inside and he couldn’t hurt anyone. Then, when he formed the Guild Of Fallen Clowns, I felt important. I’m their only connection to our world. But now there’s the mold of Peepers. If I can destroy it within the Labyrinth, Peepers will be gone.”

  “I’m sorry for that. It’s my fault—”

  “No, this is a good thing. You see, before this, the only way to cast him out was to torch the building. Now, I can get rid of him by destroying the mold. I didn’t have this option before.”

  “But what if he stops you? Why are you willing to burn the place down now when you weren’t before?”

  “It’s because of you, Alan.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Seeing you stand up to Peepers inspired me. You are my—hero. And don’t worry about what I’ll do. You know Cracky. He would never throw another lifer out. There’s plenty of work to do here.”

  Alan blushed. He’d never even been a role model to anyone before. Hearing Geno refer to him, as his hero was both flattering and embarrassing.

  “I need to get back. I’ve already been gone too long,” Geno said as he stood patiently waiting for Alan’s decision.

  Alan reached over and opened the back door of his car.

  “Take them, Geno, but please be careful.”

  Geno removed the molds from the back seat and rushed back inside the carnival, holding them tight against his chest.

  *****

  Alan stepped out from the curb in front of his apartment and waved down the approaching car. It stopped and he opened the passenger side door and slid inside.

  “This is so wrong, Mary,” he said as he closed the door and buckled himself in.

  “What’s so wrong about it?” she asked.

  “This is a date. I should be the one driving.”

  “Is that in the rulebook, Alan?”

  “What? What rulebook?”

  Mary looked at him and smiled. “Is there a rule somewhere that says the guy has to drive?”

  “No, but I just assumed I would be the one picking you up. And I would have if my car wasn’t in the shop. Like I said when I called, it’ll be ready tonight, but we would have to wait another couple of hours.”

  “Does it bother you that I’m driving? Because I was hoping you weren’t one of those kinds of guys.”

  “No, it doesn’t bother me. I was more concerned that it would be a problem for you.”

  Mary smiled and put the car in drive. “Good answer, because the last thing I want in my life is another controlling man.”

  “Is old-fashioned the same as controlling?” Alan said.

  She looked inquisitively at him. “What are you getting at?”

  “Well, one of the reasons I wanted to pick you up was so I could open the car door for you. But if you think that’s controlling—well, I guess we might have a bit of a problem.” He grinned and waited for her reply.

  She smirked as she considered her response. “I’ll allow it,” she said. “But don’t get carried away, mister. If we go out to a restaurant, you better not get any ideas of ordering my food for me.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  *****

  Geno opened the rear door of the cab and placed two heavy bags on the seat. He closed the door and proceeded to the other side of the vehicle, where he entered and sat beside his packages.

  He closed the door, and the estrogen-challenged driver looked at Geno in her rearview mirror. “Did you get enough this time?” she said.

  “Enough for now,” Geno replied.

  She put the car in drive and left the shopping plaza. “Well, if you need to make a third trip, you got my number.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said. He looked at her name on the license placard. “Regina, that’s a pretty name.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “But everyone calls me Reggie.” In her mirror, she looked at Geno nodding his head. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “A woman who looks like me, drives a cab for a living, and prefers to be called Reggie instead of Regina, well, she must be gay. Am I right? Is that what you’re thinking?” Her eyes bounced back and forth from the road to the mirror as she waited for his reply.

  Geno looked out the side window and casually
said, “I thought that before you said your name.” Then he caught her eyes looking back at him in the mirror and said, “Tell me you don’t think I’m a demented carny freak.”

  Her eyes returned to the road. “Fair enough,” she said. “But I’m not a lesbian. Well, that is to say, I haven’t tried it…yet.”

  “And I don’t fit the typical stereotype of a carnival worker,” Geno said

  Reggie laughed. “Of course, based on that logic, I can hardly call myself straight either.” She looked in the mirror again, and her chuckle faded as she noticed her uninterested passenger staring out the window.

  The final minutes of the drive were quiet. Reggie pulled up outside the carnival entrance and Geno exited with his packages. Through the open window, he handed her the fare and politely thanked her for the ride. As she accepted the money, she said, “You’re welcome, honey. And don’t forget, if you need more of those art supplies, or anything else, call me first.”

  Geno glanced at the back seat of the cab before returning his attention to Reggie. He grinned wide and leaned intimately close. “You will always be my first, Regina.” She blushed and giggled as he stood, winked, and disappeared in the river of guests flowing through the gates.

  Although he was a strange little man, Reggie basked in the unexpected flirtatious conclusion of their transaction. She scanned the crowd for a full minute before closing her window and shifting the car in drive. She smiled from ear to ear, her brain in a temporary love fog that dulled her senses. She was oblivious to a traffic light that turned yellow, warning her to slow down. It wasn’t until it turned red that she snapped out of her haze and slammed on the brake.

  Her seatbelt locked as the momentum of her large body tested the restraints limits. From the passenger seat behind her, a small figure of Peepers flung forward and fell to the floor. Safely stopped in front of the light, Reggie shook the cobwebs from her head and let out a huge sigh of relief. Behind her, the small figure lay motionless—on the seat.

  *****

  Geno knocked on the side door of the ticket booth. Cracky finished up with the last person in his line and flipped the window sign to the closed position. He opened the side door and lit a cigarette.

  “Ringmaster said you wanted to see me?” Geno said.

  Cracky lifted his head and exhaled the smoke toward the sky. “Yes, I did. I wanted to know how your repairs are going.”

  “I should be finished tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure, because—” Cracky stopped as he noticed Alan approaching with Mary.

  “Hey, buddy, glad you came back,” Cracky said.

  Alan smiled. “I told you I would stop by.” He looked at Geno standing beside Cracky. “Uh, hey, Geno.”

  “Alan,” Geno replied.

  Alan desperately wanted to ask Geno how the destruction of the Peepers molds went, but he couldn’t say anything with Cracky and Mary there. “So, Cracky, Geno, I’d like to introduce you to Mary.”

  Mary smiled and said it was a pleasure meeting them.

  “Da pleasures ours, Mary,” Cracky said.

  “Yea, it’s nice meeting you,” Geno added.

  “So, Geno, how are those repairs going?” Alan said.

  “Cracky and I were just talking about that. Everything is looking good. As a matter of fact, I was just about to tell Cracky that I’ve been making some—improvements.”

  “Really? So I guess that means you were able to fix that problem you told me about earlier?” Alan said.

  Geno smirked and nodded. “It’s all taken care of, Alan. Problem solved.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Alan said. With both hands, Mary grabbed Alan’s hand. “Are you the guy who works at the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors?” she asked Geno.

  Before Geno could respond, Alan jumped in, “Yes, Geno here runs the Haunted Labyrinth.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry about what happened. It’s so tragic,” she said.

  Cracky noticed the line building up at the adjoining booth. “I better get back to work here.” Before closing the door, he looked at Mary. “It was a pleasure meeting Boogy’s girlfriend. He’s a great guy and you two look good together.” He looked at Alan and said, “Same time next year, Boog?”

  “We’ll see, Cracky,” Alan replied.

  Cracky slipped inside the booth. Mary looked back at Geno and asked, “So how does it work? The Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors. I’ve been in mirror labyrinths before. And I’ve also been in haunted houses. But how do they work together?”

  “Maybe we should let Geno get back to his work, Mary. I doubt he wants to reveal any of his trade secrets,” Alan said.

  “No, that’s fine, Alan,” Geno said. “I project spooky images and videos into the mirrors from above.”

  “Really, that’s fascinating. So from up above you can see everyone passing through?”

  “Yes, but they can’t see me.”

  “That’s so cool! So how do you keep track of it all? I mean there must be dozens of people going through at one time. It’s got to be difficult keeping up with all of them.”

  Geno smiled. “I have help.”

  Alan’s eyes widened. “But you work alone, Geno. Who helps you?”

  “My computer, Alan. It couldn’t be done without it.”

  “Oh, of course, the computer controls the projections,” Alan said.

  “Well, I can’t wait to experience it firsthand when you come back next year,” Mary said. She looked up at Alan and said, “You’ll have to go through it with me.”

  Geno was humored by Alan’s expression. “Well, Alan, I have some things to do. It was nice to meet you, Mary. Enjoy the carnival.” Geno turned and walked away.

  “Those guys seem really nice, Alan.”

  “Yeah, they are. I just wish Cracky had more time. He’s an interesting character.”

  “I can see that. What’s with his clown face?”

  “You really don’t want to know,” he said. “Hey, why are we standing here? I’m going to buy some tickets so we can start the fun.” Before she could reply, Alan slipped out of sight. She waited for him behind the ticket booths.

  *****

  The back door of the Haunted Labyrinth opened and Geno slipped out carrying a bulging canvas bag. He locked the door and proceeded to the rear of The Ringmaster’s Milk Bottle Throw booth. He discreetly slipped inside. The tent was split into two sections by a tarp wall. Geno was in the smaller rear section where prizes were stocked.

  Unaware of Geno’s presence, The Ringmaster tended to customers in the front. Geno worked his way into the corner and peeked between the seams of canvas. As he did, The Ringmaster removed a small prize from a lower shelf to the side of the attraction and awarded it to a winning customer.

  As Ringmaster awarded the prize, he called out to all within earshot to draw attention to the winning customer. A large crowd began forming, with all eyes focused on Ringmaster and the teenage girl proudly holding her prize above her head for all to see. Geno looked at the newly empty space on the shelf and reached into his bag. He pulled out a cast figure of Peepers, slipped it through the gap, and rested it on the shelf. His empty hand pulled back and the gap closed.

  *****

  “C’mon, Dad, let’s give that a try,” a young woman said to her father. She held her four-year-old son’s hand tight and used her free hand to guide her father toward The Ringmaster’s booth.

  “I don’t think so, Brenda. Those things are rigged. You can’t win.”

  “Sure you can. That girl just did. Just give it a try, Dad.”

  “I’ll pass—but here.” He reached out to offer his daughter some folded bills. “You give it a try.”

  With an open hand, Brenda refused to take his money. “No, Daddy. I want you to have some fun. You always tell me stories of what a great baseball player you were when you were a kid. I want you to do it. Show Sammy how good you are.”

  “That was a long time ago. Besides, I wasn’t a pitcher. I don’t think my aim will impress Sammy.” Agai
n, he reached out to offer Brenda the money. “Please, Brenda, I want you to enjoy yourself.”

  She refused. “No, Daddy! It’s about time you had some fun. If you won’t do it for me, do it for Sammy. Give him some fun memories of his Pop-Pop.”

  “What, am I dying? We have plenty of time to build memories.”

  “That’s what you always say, but you’re always sitting on the sidelines, Daddy. We don’t get to see you that often.” Brenda looked up at her father with sad puppy eyes. “Please, Daddy? I don’t ask for much.”

  His eyes rolled up and he exhaled in surrender. “Fine, I’ll play. But if I win, I’m not going to carry one of those girly stuffed toys around this place. You’ll pick something out for yourself or Sammy.”

  “Oh, so now you think you might win something. What happened to it being rigged?” she said playfully.

  “And you corrected me by pointing out how the girl won. I still think it’s rigged, but just in case I do knock down the lead bottles, I’m letting you know, I don’t want the stupid prize.”

  “Just play and we’ll discuss it IF you win,” she said.

  “Step right up. Three throws for a buck. Knock all the bottles down once and win a prize from the bottom shelf. Two stacks get you anything on the middle shelf. Knock all three stacks down and you win anything along the top,” Ringmaster said as he lifted his arm and motioned to the oversized, brightly colored assortment of stuffed animals hanging along the perimeter of his booth.

  “Give him the money, Dad. Sammy, watch your Pop-Pop. He’s going to knock down those bottles with a ball.” She pulled the boy in front of her for a better view.

  “Pop-Pop’s going to try knocking the bottles down. Don’t get his hopes up, Bren. I might miss.”

  Ringmaster took his dollar and placed three baseballs on the wooden plank. “Three tries for a buck,” Ringmaster called out. “Just three bottles and three chances to win.”

  Brenda’s father picked up the first ball. He rolled it around in his hands like it was a long lost friend. “It’s been a long time since I held a baseball,” he said as he studied it. Before throwing it, he raised it to his face, closed his eyes and smelled it. “Wow, that brings back memories.”