The Clown

Charles and Lionel sit at the dining room table. Charles is in clown makeup and clothes. Lionel is dressed in dress shirt and khakis.

 

Charles: What do you think?

 

Lionel:  About what?

 

Charles: You know.

 

Lionel: I do not.

 

Charles: Look up from your paper.

 

Lionel: I choose not to.

 

Charles: It is imperative you look upon me.

 

Lionel: I am reading a fascinating article about our crumbling nation.

 

Charles: That news shall never change. Lift your eyes upon my personage. I have chosen to go another route in this madcap of an existence. I have felt, recently, that things are not as they ought to be. They never will be, either. Our lives are far too minimal and limiting to be anything else. I decided I needed a different reality, a new identity. It wasn’t working anymore. Had it ever worked? I had severe and existential doubts, naturally. With all those thoughts in my increasingly damaged and unorthodox mind I chose to be something else.

 

Charles: Hundreds were killed yesterday for not being wealthy nor mentally sound. The police stormed a mental hospital and bludgeoned to death all of the patients and staff. They didn’t feel any of those people had any hope nor did the doctors or nurses serve any humane purpose. They are calling it a mercy killing. They claim that hope is the most dangerous commodity in the universe. This story leaves me cold.

 

Charles: I have a red nose, but I do not have a drinking problem. I don’t plan to either. Fortunately I am not predisposed to addictions to drugs or alcohol, nor do I possess any mental health issues due to having no predisposition to them. Genetics have been kind to me in that way. Our upbringing was adequate so I have had no horrible traumatic events befall me. I have been fortunate in some things. Sure, I feel disconnected and divorced from all semblance of reality. I often feel I don’t exist, or, at least, haven’t existed in a very long time, but, maybe, just maybe, one day, it will all make some sort of….. I am… a clown today. I enjoy the farcical elements of such an enterprise.

Lionel: My head is throbbing. I need to retrieve a pill. But, to do so, I would need to rise from this chair. I am not at all certain if I can. I feel lightheaded and apart. Whatever that means. I was speaking to my psychiatrist recently. Speaking, not communicating. Communication has fled the domain. I was speaking to her about my flat affect. I am flat and dull… an unmitigated dullard and milquetoast… Who are any of us? Why were we given this….. this…. Hurt and pain and anguish

 

Charles: (Squirts water from his flower on his lapel at Lionel) See! Laugh! Laugh! Show some joy and pathos and desire, dear brother. This life…. It is all so painful and absurd, yes, sure, of course. This is well documented and proven for generations, but, smile! The water streaks upon your face, your dear, departed, demented face and….. feel the humor, the ecstasy, the… the,…. It doesn’t matter what it is. Just laugh!

 

Lionel: I need that pill. That infernal pill. Why can’t I move? Why can’t I…. I can’t even weep at my inability to move or function or cope…. What the hell is the matter with me? I have no lingering or traumantic issues or past…. What is this that has eneveloped my entire being? I need to cease talking.

 

Charles: (Begins to tap dance and honk a horn, and attemps to swallow his large shoes. This does not perk up Lionel in the slightest)

 

Lionel: (Puts down paper, and rests his head on the table. He attemps to weep and carry on, but nothing comes. He is immobile and senseless.)

 

Charles: (Has his baggy pants fall down. Nothing. He begins singing incoherently and senselessly. Nothing. He begins a mime act. Nothing. He leaves the room.)

 

Lionel: (Looks up. He sees nothing. He noticies nothing. He remembers nothing.)

 

Karen enters

 

Lionel: (Looks through her.)

 

Karen: Hi. I’m from next door. I have no interest and see no point in knocking at doors so I let myself in. I met the clown in the living room. He appeared morose. He put out a banana peel and slipped on it. He’s lying out there in excruciating pain. I laughed. I told him that was hilarious. He says he lives to please. He began murmuring about thinking he had broken a leg or his neck… or…. It doesn’t matter. He thinks or feels he broke something, which is, of course, a most unfortunate bummer, but that’s what happens in life: things are broken. I think he asked that I call a doctor, but I don’t see the point. As to the reason I entered your abode with knocking: I need to talk. You’re as likely as anyone else to understand. So, here I am. My Father called me this morning. He is sad and confused and hurt. I’m not sure about what. He just said “Karen, I am sad and confused and hurt. I’m not sure about what.” I sat there for several seconds, attempting to think of anything to say…. I couldn’t. I finally said: “Huh?” He repeated himself. Again… there was a long silence….. I finally said….: “Huh?” He then said “This was very…….. Okay, bye.” He hung up. I was left feeling…. I don’t know…. I must have felt something. My Mother then came to my door. My parents are divorced. They made a go of it when I was a child, but all they did was sit in front of the TV in silent desperation. Neither one has remarried. I, myself, have never married. Never been in a relationship of any sort. I’m sure I could have a decent enough one, but why bother? What is there to say? To do? To feel? I remain unencumbered and free. From what? I haven’t the slightest idea. My Mother walks into my home. She looks around it in complete apathy. She says, “How are you faring?” She said this because she had to say something. We couldn’t just stare at one another. I said, “I’m faring.” She says, “Okay. I am here.” I said, “I see that. Father called.” She says, “Oh?” I said, “Yes.” A long pause ensues…. It continues….. She finally says, “Do you have coffee?” I remind her I have never had coffee before. I never will. It’s the way I am. I don’t care for it. She looked….. Well, she just looked out the window. She had no interest in being here, but she didn’t know what else to do, where else to go. She lowered herself, and sat on the floor. She looked up at me. She didn’t invite me to join her, she just stared at me. I could tell she wanted to…. She wanted to say or do something of unknown origin… It was foreign to me. I have been emotionally distant much of my life. She then lay completely flat on the floor. She began to sing a song. Strangely enough it was called “Send in the Clowns” She didn’t sing well., but she didn’t sing poorly. She just sang. It was emotionless. It didn’t move me or repulse me. I stood there. Finally she got up from the floor, looked all around my home. She looked back at me, focused on my eyes…. Stared into them… and said…. “I must go.” She walked out. I may never see her again. These things transpire. Do you have anything to say?

 

Lionel: (Continues looking through her.)

 

Karen: I thought not. I was terrified of clowns as a child. I was attacked by one at a circus. I loved elephants so I went. I was sitting, eating peanuts, suddently a clown, who looked a little like the clown, writithing in pain in your living room, grabbed my peanuts and showered them down upon my head. I bawled. I called him a jerk. He looked upset. He lashed out at me. He called me some unkind names, then slapped me hard across the face…. And everyone around us, just laughed and laughed. No one came to my aid. The clown beat down upon me, punch upon punch, slap upon slap… then he proceeded to rip off my clothes and deflower me in a most ungentlemanly manner. I was 6. He spit upon me and took all my innocence and cheer. I have not bawled since that day. I gave up feeling.

 

Charles: (Enters.) I was able to get up.

 

Karen: The clown.

 

Charles: I might give this up. This disguise is harmful.

 

Karen: Not necessarily.

 

Charles: I might begin dressing up as Daffy Duck or Mickey Mouse or a Lion Tamer. I could become a sword swallower. A gnome. A dwarf. A……….. Are you the woman from the living room?

 

Karen………….. Huh?

 

Charles: There was a woman out there when I slipped upon the banana peel.

Karen: huh…

 

Charles: Lionel?

 

Lionel: (looks through him)

 

Charles: Life is long.

 

Karen: (lays herself upon the floor. She sings “Send in the clowns” The entire song. Emotionlessly.)

 

Charles: Life has become yet longer.

 

Karen: (Stands up, looks around at the entire home. Finally bores in on Charles’, stares at him, he stares back….) I must go. (She leaves.)

 

Lionel: (Comes to. Resumes reading the paper.) 50 men were killed last night for having a heart. They tried to clothe and feed the homeless…. The cops heard about this and had them and the homeless put upon the guillotine.

 

Charles: (Squirts flower at Lionel) I shall always be a clown.

 

(The end. )

Reviews

[Jeff Davis]

That was a fun read! I love good satire and absurdism, and there's something Ionesco-esque about this. The only reason I'm giving a 90 instead of 100 is I want more! Keep going. Whether this becomes a longer one-act or full-length or is part of a collection of absurdist episodes, it needs to be part of something larger.