The Guild of Fallen Clowns by Francis Xavier Page B

even think about it.”
    “You really don’t have to worry about that,
T-Pot,” one boy said. “We believe you would kill us. Besides, who
would believe us anyway?”
    Knowing that T-Pot would keep his promise,
they all agreed to take this secret to their graves.
    T-Pot yanked the hose from his helper and
turned it off. Then he removed his shirt, wrung it out, and tucked
it in the back of his pants to air dry. He led the group through a
narrow alley between attractions. Before emerging into the crowded
midway, he halted the group. With foot traffic in both directions,
intermittent images of a clown flashed between the moving bodies.
It was Boogy, twisting balloons into cute animal shapes for a
little boy.
    “A fucking clown,” he whispered.
    The boy behind him asked why they were
stopped. T-Pot pointed. With all the people walking in both
directions between them and the clown, the boy followed T-Pot’s aim
as well as he could. A chubby girl wearing stretchy orange shorts
and a red tube top was the assumed target of T-Pot’s aim.
    “Aw, man! She’s gross, T-Pot. You can’t be
serious.”
    T-Pot turned back to see what he was looking
at when he also spotted the girl.
    “No, you idiot! I’m pointing to the clown
across the way,” T-Pot said.
    “Oh, thank God. I thought that piss messed
up your head or something.”
    The other boys inched closer to get a
glimpse of the clown.
    “What are you thinking, T-Pot?” one
asked.
    “I’m thinking it’s time to get even with
those clowns. We need to take him out.”
    “But he wasn’t in the Haunted Labyrinth of
Mirrors T-Pot. Why you wanna hurt him?”
    “Because he’s a clown. He’s one of them and
we hate fucking clowns.”
    Muted laughter came from the boy at the rear
of the group, the same one who couldn’t hear those words without
seeing mental images of clowns having sex. Fortunately for him,
T-Pot didn’t hear him.
    T-Pot turned to the group and told them to
back up. They moved out of the alleyway, behind one of the tents.
T-Pot huddled them together and started making plans for their
clown bashing.
    “We need to fuck that clown up. But we can’t
do it in front of all the people. How are we going to get him away
from the people so we can kick his ass?”
    The boys all looked to each other for ideas
when one blurted out, “Maybe we can wait till he leaves and get him
in the parking lot.”
    T-Pot paused to consider the idea. He put
his hand on his chin to demonstrate to the others that he was deep
in thought.
    “Yeah, T-Pot, we can wait till he goes to
his car,” another chimed in, hoping to somehow share in the
credit.
    T-Pot started nodding his head.
Surprisingly, he wasn’t able to see any flaw in the plan.
    “It won’t work!” came the voice of a hidden
eavesdropper.
    “Who said that?” T-Pot said.
    From the other side of the material wall,
the voice came again. “It won’t work. Your plan won’t work.”
    The five boys all looked at the tent. A flap
opened and The Ringmaster stared back at the shocked teens.
    “Us carnival workers stay in the trailers in
the field. He won’t go to the parking lot,” Ringmaster lied.
    “Why are you telling us this?” T-Pot
asked.
    “I’m telling you because I share your desire
to get rid of the clown. That job will be mine. I’ve been waiting
fifteen years for it and I won’t let him take it from me.”
    T-Pot realized Ringmaster had his own
agenda.
    “So, you want us to help get rid of him for
you?”
    The Ringmaster scanned their surroundings to
be sure they weren’t being overheard. He leaned in and whispered,
“I want him to quit and be out of my way. I can get him back here
where nobody will see, but I don’t want you to kill him. Just scare
him—threaten him, but don’t hurt him.” He rose and turned in a
circle to be sure their discussion was still private.
    “You don’t want us to hurt him? I don’t
understand.”
    “I only want him to leave so he can’t take
my