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When I was young, I had a strange obsession with clowns. I had my mom take me to circus. It was a deal because I was never going to agree to go to school unless I got to go to the circus first. As a teenager I dropped out of high school and joined the circus as a clown. My name is Tennessee Tuxedo. Not my legal name, but I still call myself that anyway. My clown name. I wear white face make-up and dress up in a tuxedo, with a big ol' cherry red nose and a contorted smile that I engineered by taking a chisel to grandmammy's old dentures. Worked like a charm. Grandmammy ain't with us anymore.

Mom and dad found me at the circus one day. I was juggling scarfs, balls, peanut brittle, and blank DVD-Rs. My mother was in tears, and interrupted my act. I didn't realize until later that they were tears of joy. The miscellaneous items flew from my grasp. I recall one hitting the circusmaster's daughter right in her rose-tinted glasses. I was fired.

From that day forward, I was lost. I got my GED from the local junior college and went on to major in IT, in honor of the clown that forever changed my life. I thought long and hard about how mommy never took me to the circus, but she did take me to the local Blockbust. I took out a VHS tape about clowns. The very first one that I saw.

Oh, wait. Ah, yes. Did I tell you the really reason I dropped out of the 10th grade, 3rd marking period? It was because they gave me an ultimatum. Drop out or get kicked out. Me and my losers club, we used to go around causing mischief, you see. Spraypainted naughty epithets on people's lockers. Smoked crack in the bleachers behind the ol' gym. We used to play limp biscuit in the woods when we were feeling like real rapscallions. Just a great big ol' bundle of losers.

Hmm. You know, I feel my childhood memories. They're coming back now. Who knows, maybe I have something left behind, still to conquer. Hold my cigarette, will you? I normally like to smoke, but I need to tell you another thing first, maybe two. Yes, I remember hanging out in the sewers. And I remember the others there, too. Was a mighty fine time. A mighty good time. You could play limp biscuit down there too, if the rats didn't eat the cracker first.

Hmm. Strange. You know, I keep having this strange memory, hangin' at the back of my mind. Oh, what is it? Ah, what the heck. Something about that VHS tape. Was it... Killer Klowns from Outer Space? Sounds vaguely familiar. Mmm... ah, yes. When mommy and I came home from the rental store. I recall her putting it in the player, and it not quite being as child friendly as it was intended to be. I told mommy about it, but she didn't pay much mind. It was as if she knew.

Now I remember... mascara. No, wait... it was white. Do they make white mascara? But you don't rub it all over your face, right? We used to use paint at the circus. That can't be it. Oh, yes, mother's red wig. Kind of fizzy. And something like a cherry. And... and... the smell of... something burning. Father? Dad? Dad's... that was when he... paraplegic... he told me it was in the war. But I remember a glimpse. It was... disgusting. A mess. With toothmarks. Like a rabid dog had sunk into a freshly sizzled t-boned steak...

Mother's lips. Mother's lips. They were... stained... such a beautiful crimson hue... all over... the cheeks...

... That was not lipstick. Lipstick doesn't smear quite like that.

YouTube reading

Credited to DaveTheUseless 

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