CONSTANCE AND THE CIRCUS CLOWN

After an inspection of the library by a council officer, a clown walks in....

There was one important thing that Constance, Librarian at Brumpton Public Library, did about once a year and that was to provide evidence of the real need the town had for a public facility like a library by enticing by fair means and occasionally foul as many people as she could to be in the place when there was an annual inspection by a very important councillor, and that councillor, unwittingly (or wittingly) assisted her in what might be looked on as a kind of deception by notifying her in advance when that inspection might be.

Which led her to knowing what she should do.

So on a particular Tuesday morning there was quite a throng in the library because a whole week’s worth of readers had turned up in one go. And when you get that sort of accumulation in a place it can always look crowded. And crowds are always accompanied by a hum of this or that, spluttered coughs and the odd sneeze, whispered jokes and suppressed cackling responses. It all looks and sounds very busy.

The Councillor duly, as promised turned up and looked around, paused and spoke to half a dozen people (he wasn’t too keen on the public so he didn’t even try to discuss literary matters with many more than that) and, after about twenty minutes, breezed out having made complimentary comments to Constance and notes of an affirmative nature on his clipboard And when he left he was soon followed by most of those who had been busily consulting the book shelves whilst he was there.

No sooner was he gone and Constance was breathing an annual and very huge sigh of relief when the door squealed open and the most flamboyant of figures walked in.

He was dressed in eccentrically contrasting colours, wore a huge pair of trousers into which at least three people could have fitted without their waists being unnecessarily compressed and had a bulbous red nose that almost clashed with the red of his idiotic hat.

Ah, thought Constance, a clown from the circus. I hate circuses and in particular I hate clowns and their silly trousers but there is a circus down the road on the way to Swanspottle and I guess it must have a clown… Well, Constance, be polite and make the best of an awkward situation.

“Good morning, sir,” she greeted the clown as pleasantly as she could, which anyone would have thought was very pleasant, but he forlornly replied with an almost pathetic, “Hello there, is this the library?”

Constance looked around her. Yes, there were plenty of books, some of them untidily in the wrong place as a consequence of the recent crowds, but it most certainly couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a library.

“Yes sir, it seems to be,” she replied, sliding just enough sarcasm into her reply to indicate that if he looked around he might notice what manner of institution he was in for himself without needing to ask a busy library official.

“I have come for inspiration,” he told her, “is there a suicide section?”

What a question! Of course there wasn’t! Who, in their right mind, wanted to read books about suicide? And if someone did, what perspective on such an awful thing?

“I’m afraid not,” she replied, “though there may be references in encyclopaedias and dictionaries if you’re after a definition.”

“I want advice on how to do it,” he replied, “I’m desperate...”

So would I be if I went about in trousers like that, thought Constance, I usually have what almost amounts to a fetish for men in uniforms, but if this is a uniform it is ridiculous! But, out of politeness, she contrived to bury her thoughts and address the issue in hand in a sympathetic tone of voice.

“Are you troubled?” she asked, knowing it was the most obvious of all questions but unable to think of a less pertinent thing to ask.

“I am in dire distress,” replied the clown, “you may have heard of the traditional weeping clown? The stereotype of a man whose task it is to provide joy and laughter being frazzled within, being desperate under his skin? Well, I am that clown. I am the funny man with tears flowing down his cheeks. I am the comic that nobody loves...”

“Is that all?” asked Constance, probably foolishly and certainly at a loss for anything else to ask.

“Do you want more?” wept the big-trousered and extremely pathetic man. “I will give you more! I will enrich your life by melting my own into the dust of misery. I was in love with an angel and that angel cast me out, disposed of me like so much garbage. I performed to my public like a genius with laughter at my finger-tips, and nobody laughed. I had gallons of water poured down my trousers until my little thing shrivelled to nearly nothing, beg your pardon for mentioning it, and everyone was stony faced. I was summoned to the ringmaster’s caravan and, without preamble or a chance to explain myself, given the sack and ordered off the site! I am now an unemployed clown and I left the circus in such haste that the only clothes I have are the ones I stand up in! And who can go to be interviewed for a new position in life if he’s wearing these trousers? And if he has this nose virtually superglued to his face

“So I have decided to end this miserable existence,” he said mournfully, “I have decided that enough is enough and I must take my last breath on Mother Earth. I will not hang around for another day. I will go from this place with an instruction book on how to commit the most perfect suicide, and find a lonely place, and do it. And my epitaph must be here lies the clown who drowned in his own tears...”

Constance was appalled at this outpouring of self-pity and was about to tell him to pull himself together, go to a charity shop and buy some proper fitting trousers and seek employment in the world, when the door swung open, and a truly beautiful woman swept it. There were few readers who passed through that door with such wonderful flaxen hair, with so perfect a complexion, with such a smart and yet feminine sense of dress.

And she stood for a moment as the door swung shut behind her, and then, with the biggest smile on her face, a smile that introduced Constance to the most perfect and even white teeth, she cried out,

“Oh here you are, dearest Marvello! I have been looking all over this sweet little town for you and I ought to have guess straight away that you would make for the library, for you are such a deep and thoughtful lovely man! I went to see that awful man in charge of your circus and he told me that you have finally seen sense and left! Oh what a miracle! You no longer need to dress up in such a silly pair of trousers, and you can dispense with that ridiculous nose! Now come on, don’t be upset! I only said I’d leave you if you stayed with the circus and you’ve seen sense and left it! I hate circuses anyway, nasty unhealthy places! You can come and work for daddy instead, he always said he wanted you to!”

“Angel?” stammered the clown, “I thought...”

“Oh, you know what thought did, surely?” she trilled, “now come on, let’s smarten you up and you can come straight to daddy at his office down at the council building! He only said to me yesterday that he really needs a smart young man to inspect council premises for him, to make sure that things are exactly as they should be… and you’re that man, Marvello. Or will be when you go back to your proper name!”

And the two of them swept out of the library, beautiful woman and unhappy clown, leaving the library in a wonderful peace.

“Well well well,” said Constance to herself, “so he’s going to inspect council buildings, is he? Like the library, I should think? Well, if he ever comes here to inspect my domain I know a thing or two that I might remind him of, to keep him on side, so to speak!

“I’ll remind him of when he wanted a suicide manual!”

© Peter Rogerson 09.01.18

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I am amazed at your imagination! For each outside-the-dots scene, you manage to paint all the details with just an extra splash of colorful paint, fleshing out each idea with a ton of outlandish details. The actual storyline is quite simple here, but it's your embellishment that marks your writing as extraordinary! Love the way your story loops back around to the starting point, with an added layer of meaning! (((HUGS))) fondly Margie