With the remake of Stephen King’s It movie set to be released this September, consider this a warm up.
Item 1: Vintage Mr. Bob the Violinist
- Denise’s Price: $3
- Replacement Price: $125
- Source: Como Lake United Church
Mr. Bob plays the violin! He taps and dances side to side! On a stage that lights up and flashes to the music! He terrifies adults and children! And, believe it or not, someone paid $125 for Mr. Bob! I paid only $3 for Mr. Bob but you can’t really put a price on the amount of clown aversion therapy I am providing my children. I know, I know, aversion therapy is usually a choice but they were too young to give consent when it first began.
Just joking Child Services; they were older when IT started (pun intended). My children are required to read this blog in exchange for bread and water so I don’t want to give away any spots where Mr. Bob might be hiding.
Item 2: Vintage Porcelain Hobo Clown
- Jackie’s Price: $3
- Replacement Price: YOUR FIRST BORN’S SOUL
- Source: Garage Sale
At first, I felt pity for this little clown. With his stubbled cheeks and droopy brown hat, not only were his career options limited to children’s birthday entertainer and fast food mascot, but he had been assigned to that particularly sad subcategory of homeless clowns. He was not only the butt of society’s jokes, but also excluded from enjoying its creature comforts.
“Poor little guy,” I said as I very quietly set up the paper backdrop for his photo shoot. Though I was outside, the baby was finally asleep and I didn’t want to risk waking her. “You’ve probably never even slept on a real bed, have you?”
Things might have turned out a lot differently if I had just left it at that. But, about half way through taking the photos I couldn’t help but notice the odd bald spots on his cheeks and made a joke to noone in particular (I do that sometimes, just because I think I am that funny) about him suffering from a new and horrible form of male pattern baldness.
Suddenly my camera died. That’s weird, I thought. I could have sworn I just charged this thing.
With a shrug, I set the clown back on the deck chair and headed inside for the spare. At least, I thought I did.
When I returned to the patio several moments later, the chair was empty. I searched the entire backyard and was about to give-up when I noticed something glinting from inside my bedroom window. This what I found.
Shaking, I picked the clown up and threw it in the kitchen garbage.
“I must have left it there when I was changing the battery,” I told myself…along with my vintage steak knife? My mind began to race. Could I have somehow have offended the little toy with my comment about his cheeks? Should I apologize? Am I losing it? I mean, more so than usual?
Whatever had happened, I couldn’t help but feel a little relieved when I dropped the garbage bag into our downstairs dumpster. The clown was officially gone.
The next morning arrived at the office, and realized how wrong I was.
Thankfully, the little clown, or Freddie as he likes to be called, was very amenable to working out an agreement when we finally sat down to talk.
He has consented to stop stalking me so long as I apologize for mocking him. Well, that of course, and find him a suitable replacement victim.
So the next time you open your desk drawers, don’t be surprised if you hear a tiny little giggle coming from inside.