Wubba Filth

A day in the life of sorts.

Twinkles woke up around three in the afternoon to her miniature fire engine alarm clanging in her oversize ear. Her purple curls were matted to her silk pillow case and her polka-dotted bra was tangled beneath her furry bear-suit halter-top. Her mouth tasted like elephant piss and her white was smeared everywhere.

  The red and blue face paint slathered all about her room, on the dresser mirror, on patches of her carpet, and around the base of her headboard it made her suspect that drunken frolicking of the dirty sort took place last night. When she slowly stood up and stumbled across an 18 inch rubber shoe at the foot of her bed, it confirmed her suspicions.

  It wasn’t her shoe, she wouldn’t be caught wearing anything less than a 20. Plus the laces were alpha neon yellow and the squeak was unmistakably masculine.

  She staggered into her bathroom dinging the whole way and stared at her face in the mirror encased in day-glo letters that read “honk honk, had a great time last night silly!”

  Twinkles giggled nervously, but mostly out of habit, chuckling and giggling uncontrollably was something she excelled at in Clown College, all her professors encouraged her with straight Zs and red noses when it came to chuckles. That’s seemed so long ago now.

   But despite the squealing carousel spiral her life was on, she still held strong that she was a respectable Clowness, still an asset to the amusing society

 She put on her robe and slowly made her way to the kitchen. The red light on her Mickey answering machine was flashing. She hesitantly pressed play.

   You have niiiiiiiine messages! Ha ha!

-Then the messages.

   “Twinkles baby, Uncle Southie here, wubba wubba, it is go time. Are we gonna do this? I only have the equipment rented until 8 tonight and the insurance salesman costume was supposed to be back at 2. You’re messa witha my livelihood here, hy-UCK!”

  -Beep

  “Uncle Southie again, polka-face, listen, baby- we had a deal and the distributors are look to have product by Saturday, so you need to get back with me wubba wubba!”

  -Beep

  “Listen, quit screwing around, you’ll never clown in this town again, unless you’re honking and humping in front my camera about an hour!”

  Twinkles bit her lip, squeezed her eyes shut, slapped her palm down on the machine.

 She proceeded to fix a pot of coffee and turned on her bubble maker. Then she stood, listening to percolation as an air of multicolored bubbles floated silently about her.

 She told herself she can do this, she can. It’s just for the money, pay off the debtors. Get back on her game, slap some more stick. She flicked the tear off her chin.

 Finally she showered, threw on her finest silly pajamas and rainbow suspenders with matching spinning bow tie. She took a brush to her tangled purple curlies and threw on a puffy collar that accentuated her rosy nose. Then slipped on her giant shoes, the ones her father, the legendary Chuckie the Great gave her before smothering to death in the backseat of a VW bug.

 She fed her monkeys and filled her spritzer bottle, got on her unicycle and left her caravan.

  She proceeded out on the interstate and picked up speed. Her purple curls blowing in the wind, wishing she could just keep going.

 She stopped at a gas station for a pack of exploding cigars, she promised herself she was gonna quit but her nerves were saying otherwise.

  When she got back on the interstate she wasn’t watching her speed and got pulled over by a squad uni- the cop recognized her and asked for an autograph before shooting her in the face with his trick badge. As she stood there waiting on her ticket she spotted a school VW in the distance and 43 little clown kids piling out it, all squeaking and chuckling. She thought of the life not had.

She got to Uncle Southie’s tent ten minutes late. He was yelling as soon as she hit door.

  “I need you in make-up now! Chop-Chop, sugar-pop!” Southie bellowed. He was such a vile little man with his dirty five o’clock stubble protruding from his make-up. He looked Twinkles up and down through hungry eyes and giggling and rubbing his knuckles.

   “Oh yeah, you’re gonna make daddy some money.” he whispered as she wobbled away.

 Hearing that made Twinkles lips squirm and tiny hairs on her back crawl.

She proceeded into the makeshift dressing room which was a converted tiger cage and plopped in front of a mirror.

 A thousand little things, like twinkling lights on the midway were going off in her head. What did her co-star look like? Would it only be one co-star? What would her grandchildren think if they ever uncover this tape?

 Would she ever have grandkids?

She looked down at the make-up laid in front of her and at that moment in walked one of Southie’s stars. Glittery Bongo. She was dressed in such an obscene outfit.

 She was in a god-awful normal pair of dress slacks, a sensible blouse and no clown make-up, only civilian mascara and faint lipstick. Hanging from her eyes was a normal-sized pair of reading glasses. Her hair, a boring auburn wig, was done up in a bun.

 She looked frighteningly bland. It was enough to make Twinkles get up and run out.

  Glittery collapsed in front of a mirror beside Twinkles and let out an exhausted sigh.

   “Great Barnum, am I glad that’s over. Whew!”

She pulled off the boring wig and her neon orange curls sprang from her head like Slinkies. She glanced over at Twinkles.

   “You must be the new girl, huh?”

 Twinkles nodded.

   “Well,” Glittery said with a tilt of the eyebrow, “you’re in for a ride. Southie got us doing what he thinks will be newest rage in clown-porn. Take the scene I just did. My character spent thirty minutes arguing with her husband about bills, spitting poison at each other and then went to bed, left him to sleep on the couch with an episode of ER playing.”

Twinkles shuttered.

   “Oh yeah, he’s shooting real effed up domestic home life stuff. And what’s sicker, is there’s clowns who get off on it.”

Glittery proceeded to apply her white face paint as Twinkles sat in terror. She looked over at Twinkles, watched as she nervously bit her nails.

 Glittery sighs, “Oh sugar, don’t worry- everything will be fine. You’ll be just fine. Here, let’s get you into wardrobe.”

 

Twinkles proceeded on the set 30 minutes later dressed up like a housewife amidst an emotional crisis. Her hair was done up in dirt brown rollers, her face was devoid of any make-up and her bathrobe was a shade below suicidal.

  Uncle Southie sat in director’s chair giggling with glee, his stubby legs in the air, “Oh this is gonna be utterly wubba wubba dirty! Yes indeed.”

  Twinkles looked about the set made up like a bleak tract home kitchen and spotted who was to be her co-star. He was a meek man in a stained suit shirt sitting at the table with a cross word puzzle, his thick rimmed reading glasses rested on his small nose.

 Southie jumped down from his chair and clapped his hands together, “Okay, here’s the scene, Twinkle-baby,” he points to the pot on the stove, “you’re dead tired, and just wanna finish making the boiled cookies for tomorrow’s bake-sale, whilst your husband over here-”

 He points at the man at the table, the man waves.

   “He’s ready to have some quality time with his wifey, if you get my drift. He just wants a nice night of love-making, then falling asleep to Jay Leno, you get it?”

 Twinkles nodded slowly. Her stomach fluttered and flopped.

 Southie held a finger in the air, “However, you’re not having any of it, not tonight- tonight, you’ve got a headache. But he’s gonna try to advance on you, come up behind you while you stir on that pot. And you just keep pushing him back, slap at his hands, slap at his hands a lot. Be real annoyed. I want all the pervs out there knowing there ain’t gonna be any fun here tonight.”

 

Twinkles felt her joy fleeing her.

   “You want to rehearse it a few times?”

She inhaled and shook her head.

 

 

Lights, Camera, Bleh……

Reviews

[Hawksmoor]

LOL.

My brother, Rob L, you see him there, just beneath me, he sent this to me. He thought I'd enjoy it and you know, he was right. This nightmarish world, filled with Clown Beings instead of Human Beings, seriously fucked up. At the end, I must say, I was impressed. Also, a little creeped the f**k out. LOL. The normalcy within this story is unsettling...face paint, big, cherry-red noses, floppy shoes...it's all so customary, so There. And then there's the porn. LOL. The porn.

I felt for Twinkles in the end...to be subjected to such outrageous treatment on the job.

LOL.

The language in the story is pretty interesting. You never allowed the characters to slip out of, well, character, which is an tremendous, thing. Also, it can't have been easy, doing that. What a strange and wondrous world. F*****g creepy, too. LOL. I saw a few tense things that could be corrected, but then again, those aren't big things.

The story itself?

Hilarious and very enjoyable. I've got to thank my brother for sending this my way.

Hawksmoor...From The Bleed.

[Rob Luciano]

Read it....

This is very, very good. Brilliant actually.

At first I didn't know what the f** to think of it. Couple of paragraphs into it and it was overwhelmingly obvious that...don't wanna spoil it for anyone else...

Anyway, you have painted a bizarre-o world for us. A world where black is white and white is flamingo pink. My brother would get a kick out of this one....