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.

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