Too much killing. Too much blood. How will I ever get clean? How will I ever feel innocent again? How will I ever get these children at this birthday party to notice me so the birthday boy’s mother doesn’t fire me, like all the other mothers before, for being the worst birthday party clown ever? I try to perform for them. I try to make penance for the evil I have done, to bring laughter into their lives, but I cannot help myself. I was a ninja for too long. “Where are you?” the children ask. I have slipped into the shadows. They cannot see me. When I make balloon animals, there is no squeaking. I am as silent as death creeping up behind you. I step out from my hiding place and the mother furrows her brow at me. “Maybe you should juggle or something,” she suggests. I could kill her from here in an instant with the tiny dagger I’m fingering under my clown suit. “Sure,” I answer. With surprising quickness I produce four beanbags from my baggy pockets. I begin to toss them into the air and catch them, juggle-style. But it’s no good. “Where did he go?” whines the birthday boy. I’m right behind you. You would never see it coming. I’m not getting paid again. I might as well slip away, silent as the night. But, since I’ll not be getting grocery money, I decide to hide and wait until they cut the cake. It looks pretty good. Spider-Man theme.
Hello, friends. I trust you’re well.
Later. Love.
