That Clown Who Had Too Much To Say (Grand Opening - Comédie Noire/Noir)

 Declar deschisă secţiunea Comédie Noire/Noir şi plâng şi râd în acelaşi timp când mă gândesc câte poveşti şi câte desene şi câte cine-ştie-ce-uri o să fie acolo. De fapt, acum doar plâng când mă gândesc că poate n-o să fie atât de multe lucruri. Şi poate no să placă nimănui. Aţi înţeles, cam pe tiparul ăsta o să fie toate <smiley-face>. Puteţi, ca în orice secţiune, să participaţi şi voi cu creaţii de-ale voastre sau cu impresii, am şi mail şi facebook, şi telefon mobil şi cel mai mult mă găsiţi chiar în persoană pe unde-oi fi. Iată primul lucru care va apărea acolo.


Awake. The alarm clock was buzzing again. It was 7.30 and I was awake again. I kept telling myself that lately: "awake again".

I'm sorry for the lack of introduction. My name is Peter Lynch, and I am a professional clown. I'm guessing you are here for a joke, or something to amuse you? I'm guessing you are here to find comfort in another man's pain. I'm guessing... you have blond hair and brown eyes? No? Well, there's you joke!

It has been more than fifteen years since I gave up myself, gave my whole person to the public, though in fifteen years I have never felt lonelier and more abandoned. You will say that it's funny how that could happen, since every night I'm being applauded by hundreds of spectators. Didn't I mention I was a clown?

It has been more than five years since I stopped wearing make-up. The dark rings around my eyes, result of many sleepless nights, the purple lips, result of the lack of heat in my flat, the pale yellow-white-ish color of my face, result of under nutrition, fatigue, poor health and whatnot, but especially whatnot, all where my natural makeup now. Of course, the audience would not be bothered by the pattern of my mouth: tooth, tooth, tooth, dark hole, tooth, dark hole, dark hole, brown tooth, yellow tooth, dark hole;

Lately, I haven't even been wearing a wig, due to the accelerated balding and "natural" blue color of my hair. Funny story here, but the "toxic waste refinery" near my flat, to which I must be grateful for the blue color of my hair and other degeneration in my body, should have given me an option ten years ago, when they first decided to buy that old factory:

"Please sign here if you agree with the new placement of our chemical research plant. And here... and here... and below please choose which color would you like us to gradually dye you hair into."

Are you still here? Oh, you also find my misery amusing. You think I'm a workaholic? That I dedicated so much to being a clown? Haven't you ever been so deep into something, that's it's hard to ever surface from it? Furthermore, who would accept me as anything else than a clown, especially now when I'm physically turning into one? The little money I get is my grand fortune. The only workaholic I could be, is if I drank workohol!

Speaking of which, did I tell you that I'm a recovering alcoholic? You will say that is a good thing. And it might be a really good thing! Not when you're recovering from the impossibility of buying any booze. Financial-wise. I know what you are thinking, I'm more pathetic than any falling-down-drunk alcoholic. Smoking? I gave it up years ago! In the state I find myself in, when everything hurts even if I think of it, and I avoid touching any part of my body from fear of losing it, smoking would really be too much.


How did I get like this, you ask me? Oh,... I really got too far to even remember how I started. How did you get to talk to someone like me? See, hard to answer. I'll tell you what - something definitely went wrong, ha-ha. And you can laugh to that! Word of advice: next time you think of doing something nice for someone, make him laugh or simply smile, do it with all your heart, kid! Because I didn't.

But I spoke too much for a clown. I've got a show in half an hour, so scram, kid!

It's time to smile and wave.


Ram-pam-pa-na; nah-nah-nah-nah-na-na...