It was just the second week of classes when Kris texted me on a Monday noon if I was free for the rest of the day. I replied that I was just bumming around since I had nothing to do. That's when he told me to go to Katipunan and meet up with him. He wanted to play this little game he tried the previous week.
June 22, 2009. 2:20 pm.
I opened the door of Him5 Webtown, the internet cafe I've always been at ever since I migrated from Blueskies, and found Kris sitting on a seat somewhere in a bunch of rows of desktop computers. The moment he saw me, he immediately pointed his finger to the monitor in front of him, signaling me to look on what he's playing.
Zed time.
In the game and in the real life as well. So you may be wondering what this zed time is. Basically it triggers once the player was able to execute a head shot to an enemy. The more head shots in a streak, the longer the zed time is. The maximum is about 3 consecutive shots and the game play is back to normal speed rather than the ultra-slow motion ultra-awesome ultra-gruesome enemy-slaying scene.
I was pretty much interested in trying Killing Floor so I took a seat right next to Kris and started a multiplayer game mode.
READ THIS.
What makes Killing Floor a big deal then? I've been playing KF the whole of June and July every single day except Sundays (because it's a family day and Him5 is closed in this day of the week). Why the addiction? Now that's a better question. Everytime I play this game I sort of get myself very much immersed into a parallel void which devoids me of the thought that I am in a different world. I forget all my problems and frustrations which hinders me from depression.
It is this extreme - the moment I've spent all my money and walk out of Him5, I literally go...
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"
Because all the slings and arrows of my outrageous fortune comes back at me in an instant. And I walk home in a very slow manner, with my head looking down, with my feet taking small steps, with my mind thinking of course of Bianca. It's because we haven't been talking lately and I rarely see her online. She wouldn't respond to some text messages. I can't even spot her around Ateneo. Simply put, I missed her to the point that I go home with a very uneasy feeling and to the point that I couldn't sleep every single night even if my limbs have been exhausted with a day's trip and with my eyes tired to the hours spent playing Killing Floor.
Ah yes, Killing Floor. What do I really kill in the floor of this game? During that time? During that part of the day?
Reality.
-----
[Click to go to the next chapter]
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Chapter 2: Grand Conjuration
Thursday. August 27, 2009. 4:20 pm.
9 days have passed since I saw myself as a clown. I was with Rups, Arlo and Randell on the same train - LRT Line 2 - on our way to Katipunan, the second to the last station with Santolan being the last. I am schoolmates with these guys and we hang out every single break time. And now I tugged them along since I have been planning something intense for that afternoon, or perhaps, the early hours of the evening. They agreed to be with me anyway.
The first Katipunan stop we headed to was Ministop because I wanted to buy a bag of Cheetos Flaming Hot or Cheetos Crunchy Cheddar for Bianca. The last time we saw each other was June 16 and it has been two months since I have been missing someone essential to my existence. I know she liked Cheetos and I'd like to give her one as a surprise since I was broke that time and had nothing up my sleeves other than 150 bucks since mum didn't give me any allowance that day. Unfortunately, Ministop ran out of supplies and so we headed to 7-11 on foot.
The convenience store was equally out of stock of my favorite Cheetos so I just decided to purchase a can of Pringles Cheddar Cheese. It was 5:00 pm when we were walking along the footbridge near the Gate 2.5 of Ateneo. We were to go to the Case Study Room (CSR) at the ground floor of the Social Sciences Building to wait for Bianca's dismissal. We easily breezed through the security with the excuse that we were to attend some sort of a seminar or a communication class at the CSR. Now that's a good lie.
It was roughly 5:15 pm when we took a bleacher a good distance in front of the SocSci building because I am playing safe, or rather, I don't want Bianca or anyone for that matter to know that I am around. Rups and I just kept on looking to check if someone familiar or Bianca would happen to see us because there were people going in and out of the CSR, and there were people too having class-related group discussions just outside the room. I even asked Rups to patrol the surrounding area just to be safe, with the excuse that whenever he is caught roaming around by Bianca or a friend of hers, he'd just make up an excuse that he was there to meet up with someone else.
While Rups was doing his job, I was planning my speech together with Arlo and Randell - knowing what to say, the chronology, the tone, overall delivery and everything else as if I was in a communication class too. The two didn't really prepare something grand for me other than the all-glorious tip that always works: be composed and honest, even if spontaneous. But still, my mind was crowded with little thoughts here and there. I wanted to say some things yet I felt like I shouldn't say them. It was seriously confusing for me to think of what to say considering that Bianca's going home once she is dismissed and that I wouldn't have the time to say what I really want to say completely.
Rups returned to our bleacher in around 5 minutes and briefed me. He didn't know for sure if the people outside the CSR belonged to Bianca's class. The good thing is that he didn't see some acquaintance around else we would've blown our cover. Now all we had to do was wait for 5:50 pm to strike and that's when we come in.
Well, around 5:30 pm the people just outside the CSR moved out to where I don't know or I don't remember. That's when the four of us moved in to the optimal spot of ambushing Bianca once she gets out of the room. Seating on a spot near the door made me very nervous. Every single door creak makes my heart skip a beat that I was even sweating due to extreme stress. I felt that I wasn't prepared for this and at the back of my mind I even considered backing out - but it's already there and what I'm practically left to do is to go up to her and just talk.
At last the bell rung and I immediately went to my position - there's this glass divider that covers the entrance of the restroom just beside the CSR. I stood near there so that I can watch every single face that walks out of the room. Rups stood near the door of the CSR, waiting for Bianca to show up.
I checked my phone because it vibrated and I read mum's message on why I still wasn't home when I was supposed to be. But before I could finish reading the SMS, I heard Rups call out in an excited tone.
"Ui Bianca! Hahah!" in his classic laugh.
"Hey Rups! What are you doing here?" Bianca responded lively. That's when I looked at her and saw her smile yet again. I've been missing that view since the 16th of June and now I have it. And it's gorgeous. As I slipped my phone into my pocket and coughed so as to prepare for my little hello, Rups answered back to her.
"We're here to visit you. Mike's with me!" Rups told in a really big smile which made me smile too. He then pointed at my direction.
Bianca just passed in front of me without any eye contact. She went straight to the restroom instead. I knew something went really wrong - something must have been conjured so fast that quelled her smile as quickly as it came. Of course everybody's faces were like "dude wtf" but then I have to keep my composure indeed in order to execute my grand conjuration - a line I've been planning to say so as to clear all the mess up. I'm not really into explaining that mess though.
5 more minutes, as I was holding my ground right beside the glass divider a few feet perpendicular from the corridor of the restroom, Bianca emerged from the entrance and then slowly looked at me. And every single time I remember the look of that face and those once happy beautiful eyes, I shed a fucking tear. It's gay but I have no means of stopping it. The expression she had was indescribable that I kept asking myself if it was anger, or hatred, or confusion, or sadness, or whatever. It just struck me right on the spot that I didn't know how to react. Before she could pass me again though, I started.
"Bianca, I want to talk you."
She answered in a nod, but she didn't look up. Nor did she look at me. I continued.
"Are you going home?"
"Yes."
"Ah I see. Are you going to your car? If then, I'm going to walk with you."
"I'm fine."
"I just want to talk to you."
What lacked was the word 'please.' Step 1 of the composure speech thingy was already incomplete but the whole process has begun. She started walking towards Xavier hall. I didn't know what to say already and I forgot the goddamn chronology of the speech I planned for days. I literally crammed words into my mouth that I myself, at that moment, didn't know if I was making sense. I just kept my talk going. Yes - my talk that is because she was silent.
Fast forward, I was just in front of her car door in the parking lot right across Xavier after a conversation and she started her car's engine. We bid each other good bye and she closed her door. That was it for me. The day was already over. I pulled my bangs down, put my cap on, and cried. In silence, that is. Pure trails of tears poured from my eyes that I couldn't even look up. My efforts of stopping such have been of no use. So instead, I placed both of my hands behind my head with my right palm still holding the can of Pringles she declined from me and I was just looking down while walking my way back to the three who were waiting for me just outside the CSR. True enough, I failed my grand conjuration. Bianca delivered something much more powerful - a more extreme truth than what I had to say. Apparently fate has conjured something grand for me. I was a clown enough to even dare conjure something grand for it.
When I was almost at the SocSci building, a familiar voice pulled my senses from oblivion.
"Hey who's this handsome guy walking up to me?" said Anton Mozo, while raising his right hand for a high five. I gave him a full five fingers. But then, he interrupted his own talk when he saw the look on my face.
"Dude what happened?!" he asked. Not feeling in the mood to talk much, I summarized what happened throughout the day and I told him I'll tell the whole story some other time. I just invited him to play Killing Floor™ the next week. I followed up that I had to go.
I met with Rups, Randell and Arlo once I reached a bleacher they have invaded when I was gone. I told them what just happened, particularly when I blew up my speech that I was at a loss of what to say. Disaster indeed. I handed the can of Pringles to Rups and we ate. In a little while though, Rups and Randell had to leave. Arlo remained a little longer since he said he will be company.
As we walked out of the Ateneo, I was just lost, completely lost, as if I didn't have a soul - as if I was a true clown. I didn't know what to do for the rest of the day and the days after. When Arlo parted ways, I just walked in circles around Katipunan wondering what to do. Should I buy a bottle of water? Or a palm-full of candies? Or a pack of cigarettes? But then I remembered I was broke. After mindless walking, I went home. I skipped dinner. I was in my room crying like a lost little gay clown.
-----
[Click to go to the next chapter]
9 days have passed since I saw myself as a clown. I was with Rups, Arlo and Randell on the same train - LRT Line 2 - on our way to Katipunan, the second to the last station with Santolan being the last. I am schoolmates with these guys and we hang out every single break time. And now I tugged them along since I have been planning something intense for that afternoon, or perhaps, the early hours of the evening. They agreed to be with me anyway.
The first Katipunan stop we headed to was Ministop because I wanted to buy a bag of Cheetos Flaming Hot or Cheetos Crunchy Cheddar for Bianca. The last time we saw each other was June 16 and it has been two months since I have been missing someone essential to my existence. I know she liked Cheetos and I'd like to give her one as a surprise since I was broke that time and had nothing up my sleeves other than 150 bucks since mum didn't give me any allowance that day. Unfortunately, Ministop ran out of supplies and so we headed to 7-11 on foot.
The convenience store was equally out of stock of my favorite Cheetos so I just decided to purchase a can of Pringles Cheddar Cheese. It was 5:00 pm when we were walking along the footbridge near the Gate 2.5 of Ateneo. We were to go to the Case Study Room (CSR) at the ground floor of the Social Sciences Building to wait for Bianca's dismissal. We easily breezed through the security with the excuse that we were to attend some sort of a seminar or a communication class at the CSR. Now that's a good lie.
It was roughly 5:15 pm when we took a bleacher a good distance in front of the SocSci building because I am playing safe, or rather, I don't want Bianca or anyone for that matter to know that I am around. Rups and I just kept on looking to check if someone familiar or Bianca would happen to see us because there were people going in and out of the CSR, and there were people too having class-related group discussions just outside the room. I even asked Rups to patrol the surrounding area just to be safe, with the excuse that whenever he is caught roaming around by Bianca or a friend of hers, he'd just make up an excuse that he was there to meet up with someone else.
While Rups was doing his job, I was planning my speech together with Arlo and Randell - knowing what to say, the chronology, the tone, overall delivery and everything else as if I was in a communication class too. The two didn't really prepare something grand for me other than the all-glorious tip that always works: be composed and honest, even if spontaneous. But still, my mind was crowded with little thoughts here and there. I wanted to say some things yet I felt like I shouldn't say them. It was seriously confusing for me to think of what to say considering that Bianca's going home once she is dismissed and that I wouldn't have the time to say what I really want to say completely.
Rups returned to our bleacher in around 5 minutes and briefed me. He didn't know for sure if the people outside the CSR belonged to Bianca's class. The good thing is that he didn't see some acquaintance around else we would've blown our cover. Now all we had to do was wait for 5:50 pm to strike and that's when we come in.
Well, around 5:30 pm the people just outside the CSR moved out to where I don't know or I don't remember. That's when the four of us moved in to the optimal spot of ambushing Bianca once she gets out of the room. Seating on a spot near the door made me very nervous. Every single door creak makes my heart skip a beat that I was even sweating due to extreme stress. I felt that I wasn't prepared for this and at the back of my mind I even considered backing out - but it's already there and what I'm practically left to do is to go up to her and just talk.
At last the bell rung and I immediately went to my position - there's this glass divider that covers the entrance of the restroom just beside the CSR. I stood near there so that I can watch every single face that walks out of the room. Rups stood near the door of the CSR, waiting for Bianca to show up.
I checked my phone because it vibrated and I read mum's message on why I still wasn't home when I was supposed to be. But before I could finish reading the SMS, I heard Rups call out in an excited tone.
"Ui Bianca! Hahah!" in his classic laugh.
"Hey Rups! What are you doing here?" Bianca responded lively. That's when I looked at her and saw her smile yet again. I've been missing that view since the 16th of June and now I have it. And it's gorgeous. As I slipped my phone into my pocket and coughed so as to prepare for my little hello, Rups answered back to her.
"We're here to visit you. Mike's with me!" Rups told in a really big smile which made me smile too. He then pointed at my direction.
Bianca just passed in front of me without any eye contact. She went straight to the restroom instead. I knew something went really wrong - something must have been conjured so fast that quelled her smile as quickly as it came. Of course everybody's faces were like "dude wtf" but then I have to keep my composure indeed in order to execute my grand conjuration - a line I've been planning to say so as to clear all the mess up. I'm not really into explaining that mess though.
5 more minutes, as I was holding my ground right beside the glass divider a few feet perpendicular from the corridor of the restroom, Bianca emerged from the entrance and then slowly looked at me. And every single time I remember the look of that face and those once happy beautiful eyes, I shed a fucking tear. It's gay but I have no means of stopping it. The expression she had was indescribable that I kept asking myself if it was anger, or hatred, or confusion, or sadness, or whatever. It just struck me right on the spot that I didn't know how to react. Before she could pass me again though, I started.
"Bianca, I want to talk you."
She answered in a nod, but she didn't look up. Nor did she look at me. I continued.
"Are you going home?"
"Yes."
"Ah I see. Are you going to your car? If then, I'm going to walk with you."
"I'm fine."
"I just want to talk to you."
What lacked was the word 'please.' Step 1 of the composure speech thingy was already incomplete but the whole process has begun. She started walking towards Xavier hall. I didn't know what to say already and I forgot the goddamn chronology of the speech I planned for days. I literally crammed words into my mouth that I myself, at that moment, didn't know if I was making sense. I just kept my talk going. Yes - my talk that is because she was silent.
Fast forward, I was just in front of her car door in the parking lot right across Xavier after a conversation and she started her car's engine. We bid each other good bye and she closed her door. That was it for me. The day was already over. I pulled my bangs down, put my cap on, and cried. In silence, that is. Pure trails of tears poured from my eyes that I couldn't even look up. My efforts of stopping such have been of no use. So instead, I placed both of my hands behind my head with my right palm still holding the can of Pringles she declined from me and I was just looking down while walking my way back to the three who were waiting for me just outside the CSR. True enough, I failed my grand conjuration. Bianca delivered something much more powerful - a more extreme truth than what I had to say. Apparently fate has conjured something grand for me. I was a clown enough to even dare conjure something grand for it.
When I was almost at the SocSci building, a familiar voice pulled my senses from oblivion.
"Hey who's this handsome guy walking up to me?" said Anton Mozo, while raising his right hand for a high five. I gave him a full five fingers. But then, he interrupted his own talk when he saw the look on my face.
"Dude what happened?!" he asked. Not feeling in the mood to talk much, I summarized what happened throughout the day and I told him I'll tell the whole story some other time. I just invited him to play Killing Floor™ the next week. I followed up that I had to go.
I met with Rups, Randell and Arlo once I reached a bleacher they have invaded when I was gone. I told them what just happened, particularly when I blew up my speech that I was at a loss of what to say. Disaster indeed. I handed the can of Pringles to Rups and we ate. In a little while though, Rups and Randell had to leave. Arlo remained a little longer since he said he will be company.
As we walked out of the Ateneo, I was just lost, completely lost, as if I didn't have a soul - as if I was a true clown. I didn't know what to do for the rest of the day and the days after. When Arlo parted ways, I just walked in circles around Katipunan wondering what to do. Should I buy a bottle of water? Or a palm-full of candies? Or a pack of cigarettes? But then I remembered I was broke. After mindless walking, I went home. I skipped dinner. I was in my room crying like a lost little gay clown.
-----
[Click to go to the next chapter]
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Chapter 1: Coulrophobia
Curly, fancy hair in various colors and volume; big, round, red nose; thick, weird lips; white face; irritating laugh; mime-like gestures and a stupid derogatory outfit - a clown.
The world has had too much of clowns. They are about 95% of the world's human population and their numbers have exponentially increased in time since the birth of intellect. Imagine the shit out of that and the next thing you know you're already a fucking clown yourself. As much as you'd want to be not one of them, you're fortunately born to be one. You're not born free; you're born clown. It is your destiny, if ever you believed that shit.
You. Destined to be a clown some day, oh yes. How very interesting for a human being to turn into rancid cock sauce don't you think? Well, do clowns really believe in destiny?
For one thing, clowns appear to be good-for-nothing idiots who are brave, or rather intellectual enough to kindly dehumanize themselves in order to bring about entertainment to our hearts. Have you ever imagined though the souls within those clowns? Do they really have souls? Do they have their religions, or furthermore do they believe in a god or their gods? What is inside a clown's idiotic brain? What do clowns feel? Do clowns eat? Do they shit? Where do clowns live? Do they really belong in Disneyland? Don't they have any other form of transportation aside from gay pink unicycles? Do clowns have genders? Do they get to have some sex? Do they watch porn? Is there such a thing as clown porn? Well, yes to the last one, not that I've already seen one. I just think that there are clown fetishes.
You see, there are so many unanswerable questions clowns give you. And these questions are endless - one will lead to another and give birth to another and another and so on until they clown the fuck your wits off. It makes your complete rational thinking a bizarre circus. Well then, clowns tick you. In short, no matter what they do, pulling out a balloon and blowing it up into a fucking Barney or something, they fail. Come to think of it, clowns never did entertain you since childhood, as if having fun of them never seemed enough.
Clowns do piss you off. If you enjoyed being with a clown you should have some sort of a brain ailment. If you enjoyed being a clown however, you must have swallowed a whole dildo when you were young. But don't worry, almost everyone IS a clown. Almost.
That makes me sad. Whenever I am alone, sitting on a bench somewhere in this forsaken land, I see a clown pass in front of me wheeling a gay pink unicycle with balloons and is being chased by another clown blowing a dozen trumpets at once and they seem to be having fun. On the same bench I'm with a clown playing solitaire where all the cards of his deck are Jacks of Hearts and he has been doing a magic trick where all of the Jacks looked like they were jacking off. From afar a clown is flying paper planes that explode in mid-air into bits and pieces that scatter lots of candies for so many little clowns to gather. And when they are picking up what they can, a fucking blimp with a clown's face on it crashes down to them and poof - a circus appears, just like every other building in this goddamn city except for the McDonald's branches nationwide.
Clowns are here, clowns are there, clowns are everywhere. I've only seen so few of us who are normal, normal in a sense that we still don't feel like clowning around just like everyone else does. As the clown right beside me pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, I stood up and walked away. I saw the clown ignite it and poof - a fucking tiny clown as big as the lighter appeared flying just in front of me like a fly. In it's tiny voice it tried to sing something like:
"YOU sir are a clown."
"I know," the bigger clown responded.
Poof. The little asshole disappeared. I pulled out my own pack of cigarettes and got my fingers a stick, lit a small flame, took a puff and walked away - no clown. I don't really get the randomness of these clowns.
The world is now a fucking circus. It isn't real anymore. It makes me ask myself why almost everyone turned into clowns. I hate this world now for every single tree in every single block is pink or blue or violet in color. Every single car is a jack-in-a-box with wheels. Every pedestrian sells balloons for a living. Everyone seems to have juggling balls as a hobby. Every sound you hear is either a poof or a toink or some circus tune. There's a parade of clowns here and there. There is no government. There is no anarchy. There is no chaos. There is just an enormous circus with running elephants chased by a mob of idiotic clowns in various outfits.
The happier thing is that some people are not really clowns but they do strive hard to be clowns. Some fully-grown clowns do not want to be fully-grown clowns. Some clowns deserve to die.
I took the train on my way home. Almost everyone left in the second to the last station in the train's route. I was alone on my bench and right across me is a window. The longer I stared at it, the more I could make out my reflection. And as I was staring blankly ahead I realized that my hair is something frizzy, shooting up like an afro, and every single strand is orange. In shock, I looked down to see my shoes gone and I'm in a big red fancy footwear with no goddamn brand. My chucks are nowhere in sight. My palms are turning thick white in color. My bag is turning into a bunch of tied balloons. My jeans are turning into pajamas with polka dots and stripes. And before I realized it, the train stopped at the last station and the doors opened. I hurriedly left my seat and pulled my phone from my pocket to inform any normal friend that I am turning to some sort of a fucking clown.
Poof. My cellular phone is now a fucking jack-in-a-box and it pointed at me, laughing. I can feel the thick make up on my face. I ran into the nearest window in the station to see my reflection. I am now...
A fucking shit...
Of a clown.
With balloons tied on my right wrist, I slowly descended the stairs towards the exit. I don't know what to feel but an epiphany - my fears have become phobias - and when I passed right through the fucking exit, I realized I was laughing, laughing so hard like a true clown. Yes, the irritating one. I seemed to envy every clown around me playing with cards and juggling balls and blowing fire while riding cute little unicycles or flying up the sky with a hundred balloons tied on the neck.
My greatest fear is myself.
-----
[Click to go to the next chapter]
The world has had too much of clowns. They are about 95% of the world's human population and their numbers have exponentially increased in time since the birth of intellect. Imagine the shit out of that and the next thing you know you're already a fucking clown yourself. As much as you'd want to be not one of them, you're fortunately born to be one. You're not born free; you're born clown. It is your destiny, if ever you believed that shit.
You. Destined to be a clown some day, oh yes. How very interesting for a human being to turn into rancid cock sauce don't you think? Well, do clowns really believe in destiny?
For one thing, clowns appear to be good-for-nothing idiots who are brave, or rather intellectual enough to kindly dehumanize themselves in order to bring about entertainment to our hearts. Have you ever imagined though the souls within those clowns? Do they really have souls? Do they have their religions, or furthermore do they believe in a god or their gods? What is inside a clown's idiotic brain? What do clowns feel? Do clowns eat? Do they shit? Where do clowns live? Do they really belong in Disneyland? Don't they have any other form of transportation aside from gay pink unicycles? Do clowns have genders? Do they get to have some sex? Do they watch porn? Is there such a thing as clown porn? Well, yes to the last one, not that I've already seen one. I just think that there are clown fetishes.
You see, there are so many unanswerable questions clowns give you. And these questions are endless - one will lead to another and give birth to another and another and so on until they clown the fuck your wits off. It makes your complete rational thinking a bizarre circus. Well then, clowns tick you. In short, no matter what they do, pulling out a balloon and blowing it up into a fucking Barney or something, they fail. Come to think of it, clowns never did entertain you since childhood, as if having fun of them never seemed enough.
Clowns do piss you off. If you enjoyed being with a clown you should have some sort of a brain ailment. If you enjoyed being a clown however, you must have swallowed a whole dildo when you were young. But don't worry, almost everyone IS a clown. Almost.
That makes me sad. Whenever I am alone, sitting on a bench somewhere in this forsaken land, I see a clown pass in front of me wheeling a gay pink unicycle with balloons and is being chased by another clown blowing a dozen trumpets at once and they seem to be having fun. On the same bench I'm with a clown playing solitaire where all the cards of his deck are Jacks of Hearts and he has been doing a magic trick where all of the Jacks looked like they were jacking off. From afar a clown is flying paper planes that explode in mid-air into bits and pieces that scatter lots of candies for so many little clowns to gather. And when they are picking up what they can, a fucking blimp with a clown's face on it crashes down to them and poof - a circus appears, just like every other building in this goddamn city except for the McDonald's branches nationwide.
Clowns are here, clowns are there, clowns are everywhere. I've only seen so few of us who are normal, normal in a sense that we still don't feel like clowning around just like everyone else does. As the clown right beside me pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, I stood up and walked away. I saw the clown ignite it and poof - a fucking tiny clown as big as the lighter appeared flying just in front of me like a fly. In it's tiny voice it tried to sing something like:
"YOU sir are a clown."
"I know," the bigger clown responded.
Poof. The little asshole disappeared. I pulled out my own pack of cigarettes and got my fingers a stick, lit a small flame, took a puff and walked away - no clown. I don't really get the randomness of these clowns.
The world is now a fucking circus. It isn't real anymore. It makes me ask myself why almost everyone turned into clowns. I hate this world now for every single tree in every single block is pink or blue or violet in color. Every single car is a jack-in-a-box with wheels. Every pedestrian sells balloons for a living. Everyone seems to have juggling balls as a hobby. Every sound you hear is either a poof or a toink or some circus tune. There's a parade of clowns here and there. There is no government. There is no anarchy. There is no chaos. There is just an enormous circus with running elephants chased by a mob of idiotic clowns in various outfits.
The happier thing is that some people are not really clowns but they do strive hard to be clowns. Some fully-grown clowns do not want to be fully-grown clowns. Some clowns deserve to die.
I took the train on my way home. Almost everyone left in the second to the last station in the train's route. I was alone on my bench and right across me is a window. The longer I stared at it, the more I could make out my reflection. And as I was staring blankly ahead I realized that my hair is something frizzy, shooting up like an afro, and every single strand is orange. In shock, I looked down to see my shoes gone and I'm in a big red fancy footwear with no goddamn brand. My chucks are nowhere in sight. My palms are turning thick white in color. My bag is turning into a bunch of tied balloons. My jeans are turning into pajamas with polka dots and stripes. And before I realized it, the train stopped at the last station and the doors opened. I hurriedly left my seat and pulled my phone from my pocket to inform any normal friend that I am turning to some sort of a fucking clown.
Poof. My cellular phone is now a fucking jack-in-a-box and it pointed at me, laughing. I can feel the thick make up on my face. I ran into the nearest window in the station to see my reflection. I am now...
A fucking shit...
Of a clown.
With balloons tied on my right wrist, I slowly descended the stairs towards the exit. I don't know what to feel but an epiphany - my fears have become phobias - and when I passed right through the fucking exit, I realized I was laughing, laughing so hard like a true clown. Yes, the irritating one. I seemed to envy every clown around me playing with cards and juggling balls and blowing fire while riding cute little unicycles or flying up the sky with a hundred balloons tied on the neck.
My greatest fear is myself.
-----
[Click to go to the next chapter]
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