Stories From The Attic

Clown Eater

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Some people are scared of clowns. It’s a real phobia. I read once that it’s something about their smiles, the painted grins are just a little too wide and whatever it is in our heads that recognizes faces, gets twitchy. It isn’t wired to see a smile, or a mouth that wide, without instantly thinking of teeth, seeing the threat of a mouth that wide as something with the potential to bite, or even to consume. Of course, that’s ridiculous. Most of the time.

I’m not scared of clowns. I’ve worked with enough of them, metaphorically at least, to have developed an immunity. The only literal clown I ever worked with wasn’t frightening either, but the thing that scared him, the thing that clowns are scared of, well, that I am scared of too. It’s the reason I no longer do what I did and why my hair stands on end at the tinkling sound of bells.

Of course, there had always been strange ones.

In my line of work you get to meet some truly...
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