There Once Was a Clown at the Fair
Flash fiction, 700 words. For Iron Age Oct. 18 prompt, "The Harlequin." Continuing the Halloween theme! Always do your homework, kids.
“One, two, three, hit your knee;
Four, five, six, hit your …”
Lucas blinked and shook his head. Mrs. Lambert had tasked them with creating a rhyme, but he didn’t think she’d accept the one he was about to complete. At a loss, he shuffled the paper under his math worksheet.
“Did you finish your homework?” asked his mother later.
“Yes,” he lied, half-justified. It was important that she believed him. Assignments and chores came first, and then, only then …
The circus!
He’d been waiting a month. True, the lions had been replaced with a herd of dancing cats, and the pachyderms had been sent packing. But Lucas had been promised a man who breathed fire, and he liked fire. His mother and little sister got the popcorn, his father and he grabbed some seats, and they all settled in for the magic.
The circus was a riot for all the wrong reasons. The clown car tipped over. One of the tightrope walkers almost fell (or was it planned?). Keen-eyed audience members noticed that the “bear” had a zipper.
But Lucas found he couldn’t laugh. His stomach hurt. He’d have to go promptly to bed when they got home and the bus was no place to write a poem. His failure would be revealed the next day in class. Mrs. Lambert would probably call his mother. He’d never get to see the circus again.
Later, his despair must have been evident when he got in line to shake the clowns’ hands, because one of them pulled a long face and clutched Lucas’ hand without letting go. He was not frumpy, but lean. Not red, but crimson. Not bright wig and honking nose, but dagger dances and dagged sleeves.
“I didn’t do a poem for homework,” Lucas admitted to his mugging mirror. “And now it’s too late.”
“Not so!” cried the clown. With a grin, certainly impish, maybe malicious, he said:
“At the circus there once was a lad
Who looked to be rather sad
So I gave him a rhyme
But he won’t give me the time
I wonder when he’ll learn he’s been had.”
The poet winked. Lucas’ grin spreading from ear to ear until it mirrored the clown’s. This was more than a secret. This was a conspiracy against stupid Mrs. Lambert.
“See you soon!” said all the clowns together.
Lucas put the clown’s rhyme to paper after he brushed his teeth. He’d worried on the way home that maybe the clown had purloined the poem himself. But Lucas was willing to take the risk.
He held the paper aloft and examined it. He thought maybe a line or two was off, but it was good enough for a C. The same impish, self-satisfied smile spread across his features. Once more, just to make sure, he recited:
“At the circus there once was a lad
Who looked to be rather sad
So I gave him a rhyme
But he won’t give me the time
I wonder when he’ll learn he’s been had.”
It was catchy. It stuck in his head. It bled into his brain long after he’d turned off the lights and pressed his head into his pillow. He stewed and smirked, pleased but unable to sleep. The later it got, the louder the voice in his head became.
Then he realized the voice wasn’t in his head. A figure stood in the doorway, as suddenly as though he’d been summoned, a crimson shadow with a Cheshire smile.
Like a puppet on a string, his limbs and mind protesting but forced to comply, Lucas jumped out of bed. He pulled on his trousers and sweater. The shadow crooked a finger and Lucas followed. He brushed his desk in his hurry, scattering his homework. The poem wafted to the floor and disappeared under the dresser.
Lucas joined a train of shadows toward the twinkling lights of the circus at night. The crimson clown led them, chanting, cackling, a companion piece:
At the circus there once was a boy
Who thought taking credit was coy
So I gave him my time
Now he’ll live off of crime
And never again will know joy.
****
Author’s Note: Feet? Meter? What is this, a math problem?
Good Read. Nice little cautionary tale with a halloween twist.
That's one of the problems with lies.