Heehehehe!
Heehehehe! Heehehehe! Hilario the Clown’s smile widened as she practiced her
laugh in the bathroom mirror. Heehehehe!
Heehehehe! Heehehehe! She finished rubbing white makeup onto her chin, placed
a red ball over her nose, and covered her blond hair with a rainbow covered
wig. Satisfied with her appearance, she smiled again, shook her cheeks, widened
her eyes, and let out one last laugh. Heehehehe!
Heehehehe! Heehehehe!
BANG!
BANG! BANG! BANG! Whitey Oldman pulled the trigger on his Glock 19 in rapid
succession. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! After the last bullet exited the chamber,
he pressed a small button on the left hand side of his booth and waited as a cable
hooked to a pulley brought a target to him. He unclipped the piece of paper and
studied the black ink, gently rubbing his index finger over the eight small
holes clustered in the center of the figure’s chest. Satisfied with his accuracy,
he clipped a fresh target to the pulley and sent it down the range. BANG! BANG!
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
“Are
you excited?”
Hilario
the Clown smiled at her husband, who was holding their four year old daughter
in his arms. “Of course I’m excited! This is the first paying gig I’ve had in a
month. I mean, imagine if police officers were out scaring people all over the country
and everyone was afraid to hire you!”
“Well
dear, I don’t know if that’s the best analogy…”
“Oh,
you know what I’m saying. At least you still get to do what you’re passionate
about and get a paycheck at the end
of the week. I mean, put yourself in my shoes.”
He
looked down at a pair of red shoes that were large enough to fit an NBA player,
which caused them both to laugh. “You really should take those off before you
drive.”
“Did
you hear what The Times reported this
morning?” Big Don sipped his coffee as Whitey Oldman meticulously folded his
paper targets.
“I
don’t even want to know. I mean what the hell has this country come to? A
nigger president for eight years, and now these kids want to elect a goddamn
woman? A lying, cheating, no-good, crooked criminal, I might add. She should be
in jail, for Christ’s sakes.”
“You’re
preaching to the choir, pal. We got spics flooding across the border, Muslims
terrorizing our communities, jobs being shipped overseas, and when somebody
finally stands up to do something about it, the media makes up all these lies
about the guy. What is a man to do in these crazy times?”
“Well,
at least I can still come to your gun range to let off some steam.”
“For
now…we’ll see what happens to the second amendment if that whore gets elected.
Let’s just say, you better start stocking up on bullets.”
“Speaking
of which,” Whitey Oldman reached for his wallet. “Why don’t you give me a
couple boxes of hollow points.”
Hilario
tried her best to ignore the unfavorable looks she received as she drove her Volkswagen
Beetle clown car through the city. She missed the good old days, when people would
wave and smile and she would honk her horn which released a silly sound that
wasn’t far from the laugh she had perfected through years of practice. Heehehehe! Heehehehe! Heehehehe! Now she
just focused on the road and listened to the oldies station on the radio, taking
note of the irony as Smokey Robinson’s “The Tears of Clown,” sifted through the
speakers: “♪ Well they’re some sad things know to man, But aint too much sadder
than, The tears of a clown when no one’s around… ♫”
Whitey
Oldman listened to his favorite conservative radio personality, Greg Gregory,
as he fought traffic in his Ford F-350: “…if this presidential election is a
circus, then the Democratic nominee is most certainly the clown! And speaking
of clowns, have you heard about all these clowns terrorizing American’s across
the nation?” One of Whitey’s favorite things about Greg Gregory was his ability
to segue from one topic to another. “I’ll tell you one thing,” Gregory
continued, “if I ever found myself in the vicinity of one of these clowns, if
one of these clowns thought about terrorizing my neighborhood, well, let’s just
say, I would take full advantage of my constitutional rights, and speaking of
the constitution, when I want to practice my second amendment right, there is
only one place I will go and that’s Big Don’s Shooting Range, located directly
across from…”
Hilario
drove around the block three times but couldn’t find a single spot to park her
clown car. She finally found a spot four blocks away from the birthday party
where she was to entertain two dozen children for the next hour or so. She
parked, slipped her giant red shoes back on, grabbed her suitcase full of gags,
and began to walk down the sidewalk.
As
Whitey Oldman swung a right down the street he had called home for the past four
decades, he couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,”
he said to himself as he slammed on the brakes and put his truck in park. He
quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and nearly fell out of the driver’s seat as he
reached into the inside of his jacket.
Hilario
the Clown dropped her suitcase and threw her hands in the air as she saw a
large, obese man, with what appeared to be a weapon in his hand, walking her
way.
Whitey
Oldman stopped in his tracks and raised his Glock 19. “Not in my neighborhood,”
he said as he pulled the trigger…
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