The Guild of Fallen Clowns (18 page)

“Spanky at your service,” he said with a
bow.

Peepers turned back, waiting for Alan’s
approval.

“What is this?” Alan said. He looked past
Peepers and said, “Hi, Spanky. Nice to meet you, but I don’t need
your help.” Spanky frowned. Alan looked back at Peepers and
continued, “I don’t know why you think I need help with Lyle. He’s
just immature. I do fine by avoiding him whenever possible.”

“Peepers promised to help Alan. Spanky helps
change people who hurt others. Can help Lyle become good. Help
Alan.”

Alan shook his head. “I understand, and I’m
sorry if I got upset. But let’s slow down here. We’ll start with
Mrs. Henderson. And I’ll think about sculpting Agor, but we really
have to slow down. This stuff takes time and I’m working two jobs.
I need to go at my own pace.”

Peepers waved Spanky away and lowered his
head. “Peepers apologize. Alan right. In time our light will come.”
Without warning, his image floated through the panel and faded from
view.

Geno’s voice came over the speakers. “Unlock
the door before you leave.”

With his suspension over, Alan returned to
work at Vince’s. He arrived early, his face still covered in clown
makeup. His plan was to clean up using the bathroom sink before
starting his shift.

Upon entering the shop he stopped at the
counter and stuffed the tip jar with $17.50. Joe quietly observed
his offering from a distance. Jamie stood behind the counter and
asked the obvious question.

“What’s with the wad of money?”

“It’s my tips from the other night,” Alan
replied.

“Holy crap, Boogy! I didn’t know you made
that much on tips. I must be doing something wrong.”

Alan grinned. Reading his expression through
the colorful face makeup was difficult, and Jamie misinterpreted
the look as a disapproving glare. He knew Alan didn’t appreciate
being referred to by his clown name, but Jamie was skilled at
walking within inches of the fine line where people snap.

“Oh, sorry, Alan, I know you don’t like to
be called Boogy outside the carnival, but you brought it on
yourself by walking in here looking like a clown.”

Alan’s grin turned to a smile. “That’s okay,
Jamie. I overreacted the other day. If you want to call me Boogy,
I’m fine with it.”

With that statement, Jamie realized the
target of his sarcasm was becoming immune to his pokes.

“Okay, Boogy. So tell me something. Why did
you pick the name Boogy anyway?”

“Well, when I was a kid, I was scared of the
dark. Actually, I was scared of just about everything. My little
brother teased me and called me Boogy because it’s short for
Boogieman.”

“Really. Are you sure he didn’t call you
Boogy because you picked your nose?” Jamie teased. He chuckled at
his own joke and looked back to see if Joe would join in. Joe
pretended not to hear the conversation.

“I wish,” Alan replied. “Every kid picks his
nose. That would have been much less humiliating than thinking
monsters and ghosts were hiding in my closet and under my bed.”

Another of Jamie’s snarky attempts to rile
Alan fell flat, leaving him the loser in his one-sided battle of
wits. Joe smirked as he removed a pizza from the oven and slid it
into a box, obviously amused by Alan’s unintentional disarming of
the shop’s most effective instigator. Seeing Jamie at a loss for
words was a welcome sight.

“Hang on, Alan,” Joe said, preventing him
from continuing to the washroom.

Alan was sure that his suspension was over,
and he also knew that he wasn’t late for work. Why would Joe stop
him near the front counter?

He froze. From behind, the bells above the
door announced the entrance of customers. Three fraternity brothers
from the college sauntered up to the counter. One flinched as he
noticed the clown-faced Alan standing off to the side. In his
startled state, he bumped into his friends. The three stopped and
took in the sight when one laughed and said, “Are we in the right
place? I didn’t know the circus was in town.” The other boys joined
in his laughter and the sight of the clown in a pizza shop.

Jamie jumped in. “Hey, guys, back off. Alan
works here. And, it’s not the circus. It’s the carnival. He works
part time there while they are in town.”

Alan wasn’t bothered by the comment or their
amusement at his expense, but he was shocked that Jamie stepped up
to defend him. At any other time, Jamie would have assisted the
boys in elevating the tone to the point of humiliating mockery.

The three boys backed down as one explained
that he was caught off guard by the sight of a clown in a pizza
shop. Jamie didn’t pretend to understand and coldly asked what they
wanted.

“We’re here to pick up five za’s, for our
frat party,” one replied.

Joe overheard their conversation from the
oven and told them their pizzas were almost done. The trio waited
quietly, taking turns looking at the clown in the room with
them.

“Hey!” one of the boys said. “We should have
the clown deliver our za’s.”

“Why, Todd? We’re already here. Why would we
pay extra for delivery?” another said.

“Think about it. Debbie is at the house,
dude! We can get her to answer the door.”

Suddenly all three boys looked at each
other, as if they each envisioned the same image of this Debbie
girl answering to door for the pizza delivery clown.”

Alan didn’t follow their logic. “Does your
Debbie friend like clowns?”

The boys grinned in unison and Todd said,
“Yes, Debbie
loves
clowns. You have to deliver our pizzas,
dude.”

“Sorry, guys, I don’t wear the clown makeup
when I deliver pizzas. I was just about to remove it before I start
work. It’s been on all—”

Before Alan could finish, Joe nudged a boxed
pizza into his arm. Alan turned and took the pizza from him.

“It’s for Mrs. Henderson. She called a while
ago. I thought you’d be here early so I got it started.”

“Sure, Joe, but give me a minute to clean my
face.”

“It’s Mrs. Henderson, Alan. She won’t even
see your face. You can clean up when you get back. Oh, and hurry up
with it. The old lady didn’t sound like herself. We wouldn’t want
her to starve to death. Thanks, buddy.”

Alan stood holding Mrs. Henderson’s pizza as
Joe plopped five boxed pizzas on the counter in front of the
college kids.

“Here they are, boys. Ring it up, Jamie,”
Joe said before returning to the oven.

Alan was halfway out the door when Todd
turned and called out, “Alan, it’s Alan, right? Your name?”

Alan stopped in the doorway. “Yes, it’s
Alan.”

“Okay, Alan. Now that it appears that you
are headed out without removing your clown face, would it be too
much to ask for you to deliver our za’s after that delivery? While
you still have the makeup on?”

Alan looked at the pleading faces of the
boys. “Fine.”

Todd didn’t give Alan a chance to change his
mind. He grabbed the stack and nudged Alan to lead the way to his
car, where he helped load them onto the passenger seat. Alan
started the car and looked forward before backing up. Todd stood in
front of the car on the sidewalk with his index fingers pointed to
the symbols on his shirt.

“Delt Sig, dude. Thirty minutes?” he said.
Alan nodded.

*****

His palms grew sweaty on the drive to Mrs.
Henderson’s house. He didn’t expect to put his and Peepers’ plan in
place so soon. Wednesday pizza deliveries for Mrs. Henderson were
rare. Even when Mr. Henderson was alive, he couldn’t remember them
ever calling for a pizza on a Wednesday. Maybe she had tried the
night before and called it off when she learned he wasn’t working.
Maybe she just waited another day—or maybe she was getting so
forgetful in her old age that she wasn’t aware of what day it was
anymore.

Whatever the reason, Alan was both excited
and anxious about the realization that their plans were within
minutes of becoming reality. He envisioned future deliveries where
she might actually open the door to greet him and personally hand
him the money instead of slipping it through the mail slot in an
envelope. She might even allow drivers other than Alan to deliver
her pizzas.

Her life was about to change. The idea of
becoming a helping hero appealed to him. His mind raced with
visions of all the people he could help. Today he would cure Mrs.
Henderson. Tomorrow he would start on Agor so that Cheryl could be
cured of her fear of crowds.

*****

Alan pulled into the driveway and tugged
twice on the high beams. He counted to three and waited for the
porch lights to come on. The house remained dark. He tugged a
second time.
Maybe she’s not near the window,
he thought.
Again, there was no response from inside the house. After his third
failed attempt, he took the pizza and the bagged figure of Peepers
to the porch. Standing three feet from the door, he waited. Once
again, nothing happened. Leaning toward the door, he called out,
“Mrs. Henderson. It’s Alan. I have your pizza.”

Again, there was no response from inside.
Something must be wrong. She always kept an inconspicuous watch
from inside. Maybe his theory about her getting forgetful in her
old age was correct. Maybe she took a nap and forgot about her
order. If so, he knew he couldn’t stand on the porch all night
waiting for her to wake up.

He had to make a decision. During his
career, he’d had plenty of other instances where customers didn’t
come to the door. In those situations he would return to the shop
with the pizza. But this was Mrs. Henderson. As Joe suggested, she
might be sick and in need of the food. He couldn’t leave with the
pizza. Besides, she needed Peepers’ help. For all he knew, she may
have digressed to the point where she no longer trusted him. If so,
he had to act fast.

He placed the pizza on her welcome mat and
rested the bag holding Peepers on top. He pressed the doorbell once
more and returned to his car, where he sat for a few minutes,
hoping to see her retrieve the items. The house remained dark, and
the five pizzas beside him had to be delivered, so he abandoned her
pizza on the porch and drove off—constantly checking his rearview
mirror until the house was out of sight.

*****

A finger delicately cracked a small opening
through the window curtain beside the front door. Mrs. Henderson
peeked through the slit and examined the items abandoned on her
stoop. Seconds later, her finger released the fabric, closing the
gap. The door remained shut.

*****

The curtain was brusquely pushed to the side
and a face looked out from inside the house.

“Is he here yet?” a frat boy asked the
lookout.

“Not yet. Hey, be sure she’s ready when he
gets here.”

Loud music inside the house could barely
drown the sounds of dozens of inebriated college students. An
attractive girl was sprawled on her back over a coffee table with
her shirt hiked up and tucked in below her bra. Another girl held a
bottle of tequila and poured some into the lounging girl’s belly
button before she slurped it up. The girl on the table giggled and
quivered from the tickling sensation. Her friend poured another
shot and called out to the crowd, “Belly shots! The line starts
here.”

*****

Five minutes passed before Mrs. Henderson
peered out a second time at the curious packages on her welcome
mat. Her eye lifted and shifted from side to side; all was quiet.
Again, she released the curtain and made no attempt to retrieve the
items.

*****

His eyes widened as he let the curtain drop
and turned to his friend. “He’s here,” the lookout said. Todd
rushed over to the crowd formed around the girl on the table. He
grabbed her arm and lifted her to a sitting position.

“Get in line, Todd,” she said.

He continued to help her to her feet. The
crowd jeered but didn’t make any motions to stop him from ruining
their fun.

“Debbie, the pizza guy is here. Could you
answer the door?”

She stumbled as Todd helped her regain her
balance.

“Why can’t you get it?” she said.

The doorbell rang and Todd helped her toward
the door.

“We just want you to answer the door, Deb,”
he said. In her drunken state, no further explanation was required.
He released her and she took the last two steps forward and opened
the door. First, her eyes locked onto the stack of pizza boxes.
Then she looked up and saw Alan’s Boogy face smiling back at her.
Fright overtook her. She threw her arms up and screamed. Everyone
inside the house stopped talking and turned to see what happened.
Debbie turned and darted through the crowded room, screaming. She
recklessly bounced off people as she fled to the kitchen. Uproars
of laughter filled the house as she exited the room.

*****

The deadbolt clicked and the door creaked
open enough for Mrs. Henderson to examine the packages another
time. “I didn’t call them,” she whispered to herself, staring down.
She cracked the door open enough to slip her head out for a scan of
the area. Nobody was in sight so she cautiously stepped out, bent
down, and picked up the pizza box with the bagged item on top. She
looked around one last time before taking them inside with her.

*****

Laughing continued as Alan handed the stack
to one of the boys. He recognized the girl as Dave’s girlfriend.
When he delivered the pizza to her apartment the other day, he knew
she was much younger than Dave, but now he discovered Dave was
cheating on his wife with a college kid.

“You told me she liked clowns,” Alan
said.