The Guild of Fallen Clowns (24 page)

“Are you okay? Did Dave hit you?” Alan
blurted out as he looked past her into the apartment.

Debbie sniffed. “What? No, he didn’t hit me.
Why would you think that, and why did you come back?”

“Oh, that’s a relief. It’s just that you’re
crying. I thought that maybe he hurt you.”

“Dave wouldn’t hurt me. I’m crying because
he left me.”

“He left? Will he be coming back?” Alan
said.

“No.” Sniff. “He went back to his wife. He
said it was over between us.”

“He did?”

“Yes, he suddenly realized that he loved
her, and what he was doing with me was wrong.” Her eyes welled and
she dabbed them with the tissue.

Through tear-filled eyes she said, “I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you showed up and—” Her
train of thought changed direction and she continued, “Why are you
here again?”

“Oh, right. Uh, I think Dave may have
over-tipped me. He usually gives me a few bucks. This time he gave
me a five.”

Debbie used the soaked tissue to blow her
nose. “Hold on a second,” she said. Leaving the door open, she went
into the apartment. Alan watched as she retrieved the pizza box and
returned. She held the box out and said, “Keep the tip and please
take the pizza with you. I’m not going to eat it.”

As Alan took the box, an expression of
confusion quickly turned to horror on Debbie’s face.

“It’s you!” she cried, apparently
recognizing Alan as the pizza delivery clown from the previous
night. Instantly, she backed away and slammed the door shut.

Standing motionless, he stared at the door.
First was the sound of the latching deadbolt. Then he heard her
body lean into the secured door and slide to the floor. Finally, he
heard the muffled sound of Debbie weeping.

Alan slid one hand under the box and
prepared to knock with his free hand. He felt horrible about his
involvement in the frat party incident. He wanted to apologize and
let her know he was tricked into doing it. With his closed fist
raised and ready to knock, he considered the terrified girl on the
other side and held back. He remembered how he felt in his own
apartment with Lyle locked out, knocking from the other side. It
wasn’t until the knocking stopped that he was able to feel
secure.

Knocking on Debbie’s door might intensify
her fear. He lowered his hand but his heart still ached with the
knowledge that she was petrified of him. He desperately wanted to
set things right. If only he could tell her what happened, she
might understand. Dropping to one knee to get closer and to
minimize the level of his voice, he placed the pizza box on the
ground and moved his face to the doorjamb.

“Debbie,” he said softly. Before he could
start into his apology and explanation, Debbie shrieked and
scampered away from the door. Alan jumped back to his feet. His
plan backfired. Now she was even more terrified than before. He
couldn’t risk another attempt to gain her forgiveness. He picked up
the box and briskly walked toward his car, handing the pizza to two
young guys passing in the opposite direction.

The two turned to watch Alan rush to his
car. The guy holding the box looked at his friend, smiled, and
shrugged his shoulders. The other commented that this must be their
lucky day. He opened the lid, pulled out a slice, folded it, and
took a big bite.

*****

Taking her last step down the stairs, Cheryl
turned from the foyer toward the kitchen. She almost made it when
she stopped and looked back at the box beside the front door. She
must have passed by the package a half dozen times without taking
notice. However, as she was close to passing again, something
caught her attention. She turned her head to look back at it.
Written in bold black marker across the top was her first name. She
turned and approached the mystery package.

Standing in front of it, she scanned the top
and sides for additional information. There wasn’t a sleeve
containing a packing slip. No labels with address information, bar
code stickers, or any other clues indicating who sent it to her.
She bent down, picked up the box, and examined the bottom on her
way to the kitchen.

“Okay, let’s see who sent this to me,” she
said.

She dug her index finger under the flap and
tugged hard, breaking the taped seal. With the flaps open, she
pulled away the top layer of crumpled paper, exposing the figure
inside. She grabbed the small statue and removed it from the box.
She held it out and looked at it from all angles before standing it
upright on the table and returning her attention to the box.
Digging through the remaining packing paper, she searched for a
note from the sender.

The box was empty, but Cheryl wasn’t ready
to give up. She lifted the flaps on the inside bottom of the box to
see if the packing slip got tucked out of sight. Again, she found
nothing.

She looked back at the figure and said,
“Where did you come from? Who sent you?” Her concentration on the
odd-looking figure was broken by the sound of her doorbell. She
left the kitchen to answer the door. As she opened it, a
child-sized person stood facing the other way. She couldn’t make
out the sex or age of her visitor, but its pointed hat and inhuman
pointed ears looked familiar.

Before she could speak, the tiny person
turned to face her. Its face and costume were identical to the
small figure on her kitchen table. A sinister smile came across his
face, sending her inside the house in a panic. She locked the door
and cautiously leaned for a peek out the sidelight window. It stood
on the porch rocking from side to side.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” she
yelled.

He stopped rocking and looked back at her.
He responded to her question, but she couldn’t hear him through the
door.

“Speak up. I didn’t hear what you said.”

Still locked in her focus on him, he spun
around on one foot and looked at her. She didn’t know what he was
doing. His eyes rolled back and he let out a big sigh. Looking at
her again, he raised his hand, pointed his finger to the ground,
and rotated it in a circle pattern.

More confused than before, Cheryl called
out, “Just speak louder. Who are you and why are you here?”

As he stood on the porch looking back at
her, a voice from behind her said, “My name is Agor.”

Cheryl spun around to see another replica of
the figure on her table. However, this one was well over six feet
tall and slightly pudgy. She backed into the door and raised her
hands into a protective position across her chest.

The figure smiled, and from the living room
another voice continued, “I represent the Guild of Fallen Clowns.”
Again, Cheryl twisted to face the direction of the voice. Facing
her from the living room doorway was a third replica. This one was
average in size and weight but otherwise identical to the other
two. She backed away from the door into the dining room. As she
did, the front door opened and the pint-sized figure entered the
house. He looked at her and said, “On this day your life will
change.”

Cheryl continued retreating until her back
was in the corner of the room. The little figure followed her steps
and stopped about four feet from her. The other two busily moved
the table and chairs through the foyer and into the living
room.

“Don’t come any closer,” she said. “My
husband is a police officer and he’s on his way home now.”

Tiny Agor smiled. The others finished
removing the furniture and walked toward the small clown from
opposite sides. They continued walking until the three figures
merged into one, creating a fourth duplicate of new dimensions.
This one was short and portly.

The sight of the merged transformation
caused Cheryl to tuck her face into her hands.

“Oh my god, I’ve finally lost my mind. This
can’t be happening to me.”

With Cheryl’s hands still covering her eyes,
Agor said, “Agor is not in your imagination. We are real and we
were sent to help you.”

Ignoring him, Cheryl continued her rant.
“Dale will divorce me and have me committed. I’ll never see my
girls again.”

“Look at us, Cheryl. You aren’t losing your
mind. Agor is here to help you.”

Cheryl cried, wiping her eyes while she
carefully lowered her hands and slowly raised her head.

Agor smiled back at her. “See, Cheryl, we
are real. Do you want to pinch us to be sure?” He offered his
outstretched arm.

“No, you can’t be real. It’s impossible. I’m
going crazy.”

“Please don’t say that, Cheryl. We are very
real,” Agor said. Then he giggled nervously, triggering the flash
appearance of at least a dozen multi-sized replicas of him in the
room. Each one vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Cheryl raised her hands to her face and
scrunched her legs and elbows tight against her body. Her knees
gave out and she fell to an upright fetal position against the
wall.

“Please excuse us. We have an uncontrollable
anxiety disorder, which causes that to happen. As long as you
follow our rules, we won’t grow anxious or angry and you’ll only
have to see Agor’s small figure, the one you removed from the
box.”

Without looking up, Cheryl mustered enough
strength to plead with the entity to leave her alone.

Agor looked down at her, bunched in a ball
against the wall. He grew impatient with her resistance to engage
in conversation with him.

“Perhaps you would be more comfortable with
this,” he said. The fat figure in the room disappeared. Cheryl
didn’t notice as her hands covered her eyes. A full minute passed
without the voice so she peeked out from behind her hands. She was
alone in the empty room. She lowered her hands and locked them
together around her legs. Still too frightened to get up, she
cried. As she did, she felt a gentle tug on her pant leg. She
looked down to see a four-inch-tall Agor standing between her feet.
Her eyes opened wide and every muscle in her body locked.

The tiny figure looked up, and in a
high-pitched voice one would expect from such a tiny figure, he
said, “You can’t possibly feel threatened of us now.”

She couldn’t look away. Agor continued,
“Good. Now we can get to the rules. Agor is here to help you with
your fear of crowded places. But we cannot help unless you always
follow our rules. The first rule is to never, ever, ever reject or
ignore Agor—”

“Wait!” Cheryl cut in. “How do you know
about that?”

In frustration, Agor threw his arms up and
said, “We’ll never get through this, will we?” Cheryl glared back
at him. “Fine,” Agor conceded. “Agor was presented to you by
someone who knows about your fear. We are here to cure you. Now,
can we get back to the rules?”

“Cheryl nodded, but before he could start
talking, she cut in and said, “Wait,
who
sent you? Who sent
you to me?”

Agor took a step backward. As he did, he
doubled in size. He took more steps back until his figure was once
again life size, height and weight proportionate. He looked down at
her with a stern expression. “That is a secret. Do not ask us
again.”

“But why can’t I know who sent you to me?”
she asked.

Agor’s nose flared as his eyebrows lowered
and his lips puckered. “You just broke rule number one before I
could even finish telling you the rules.” He followed it with a
giggle which brought six replicas into the room. However, unlike
with his previous giggle, these replicas didn’t fade away. Each
altered shape of the original converged toward her corner of the
room.

Some leaned in while others kneeled and
pressed as close to her as possible. They held random conversations
with themselves as they stole every inch of her personal space.
Cheryl shook uncontrollably. She tried to scream, but her short
gasps for air prevented sound from escaping. The Agor who caused
this display sensed that she was about to pass out. He waved his
hand and the cluster was gone. Cheryl wheezed.

Agor enjoyed watching her distressed state.
“This is going to be fun.” He smiled.

As her breathing stabilized, she begged,
“Please don’t do that again.”

Agor grinned. “We didn’t do that. You are
the one who broke the rule. That was just a small sample of what
will happen when you break our rules. The choice is yours. Do you
want to be cured, or would you like to see more?”

She shook her head. “No, please don’t do it
again. How can you help me?”

“We are so glad you asked. We believe this
could best be answered with a demonstration. Stand up,” he
commanded.

“Why? What are you going to do to me?” she
asked nervously.

Agor stared down at her. Sensing his anger,
she immediately stood to her feet. His face relaxed and he offered
an approving nod.

“Now move away from the wall,” he said.

Cheryl complied and stood in the center of
the room, within arms’ length of Agor.

“Say my name,” he said.

“Igor?” Cheryl replied.

“Igor?” Agor shouted. He turned sideways and
raised his hand, pointing to his shoulder.

“Do you see a hump? Do we look like an Igor
to you?”

Cheryl’s body stiffened. He appeared angry
and she needed to prevent him from giggling out another mob of
space-intruding sidekicks.

“I’m sorry!” she said. “Please forgive me.
I’m scared and I must not have heard you correctly. Please don’t
laugh.”

Agor was pleased with her apology. He calmed
down and stepped closer. Again, Cheryl apologized. His face slowly
moved to within inches of hers and he whispered, “Agor, with an
‘A.’”

Cheryl repeated his name. Satisfied, he
backed away.

“Rule number two,” Agor said as he started
walking around her. “You must never tell anyone about us. If
someone notices your adorable little statue, you will not tell them
about the powers it holds.