don't you love farce?
(Who knew the opportunity would arise for me to use another line from "Send in the Clowns" as the title for a post?) Today I had to go grocery shopping. Had to. Had to force myself to. I knew the store would be a madhouse, but we're coming up on a month of massive deadlines at my office and I'll scarcely have time for adequate personal hygiene much less making frivolous trips to the store for food. So, I trudged to the very, very crowded grocery. The misanthropic little voice in my head regularly refers to the pushy people in a crowd as "a bunch of clowns." Well, today? The clowns were literal. Clowns. In the grocery store.
I knew something strange was afoot when a painfully chipper voice on the loudspeaker chirped instructions for a "game" that we could "play" while shopping. "Look for the Special, Numbered Squares on the floor in the aisles and stand on one! If we call the Number of the Special Square you're standing on, you'll win A Prize!!" There was a Special Square in my aisle. Number 19. I ignored it and just kept shopping. So did everyone else, apparently. Shortly after the chipper voice announced that Special Square 16 was the lucky winner, a slightly less chipper voice announced that they'd be moving along to Special Square 17 to try to deliver The Prize--a piece of chocolate cake. (And here I should probably note that had K been in the store and learned of that particular prize, she would have left a trail of bruised, maimed and possibly dead people as she clawed her way to the proper Special Square.) Maybe no one was at 17, either, because the "game" came to an abrupt end. Mercifully.
Then, unmercifully, the grating refrains of C&C Music Factory echoed through the aisles. Everybody dance now!!! Another chipper voice started calling out dance instructions. And I started shopping faster. Oh, but not fast enough. Before Freedom Williams was even finished [ahem] rapping, the chipper voice was saying things like "Just step in line if you'd like a balloon animal!" That's when my shopping cart and I rounded the corner and came face to face with a little gaggle of clowns. (Gaggle?! School? Herd? Pack? Colony? Flock? Pod? Rafter? Dray? Swarm? Whatever.)
I held my breath and somehow managed to do a remarkably quick about-face without flipping the cart on its side. My shopping list forgotten, I trotted toward the checkstands and away from the rainbow afro wigs, red suspenders, polka-dot pants and giant shoes. Amplified witty clown banter continued the entire time I was at the checkstand. "Would you like a balloon sword? Ok! What color? Red? Great choice!" This was punctuated by frequent pops of exploding balloons, which I interpreted as the balloons committing suicide to avoid being touched by a clown.
Just as I began to consider a similar escape, the very old man in line ahead of me pointed at a tabloid, turned to me, and said "I've never seen 'Paris at Night.' You know, that Paris Hilton sex video? I've never seen it. I'd like to some day. Maybe. Have you seen it?" I said, "No, but I just saw a bunch of clowns in the grocery store." "Me, too. I hate clowns," he replied. "But I'd like to see that Paris Hilton video. Maybe."
Aaaaand, I think that pretty much guarantees some seriously f'ed-up dreams tonight....
I knew something strange was afoot when a painfully chipper voice on the loudspeaker chirped instructions for a "game" that we could "play" while shopping. "Look for the Special, Numbered Squares on the floor in the aisles and stand on one! If we call the Number of the Special Square you're standing on, you'll win A Prize!!" There was a Special Square in my aisle. Number 19. I ignored it and just kept shopping. So did everyone else, apparently. Shortly after the chipper voice announced that Special Square 16 was the lucky winner, a slightly less chipper voice announced that they'd be moving along to Special Square 17 to try to deliver The Prize--a piece of chocolate cake. (And here I should probably note that had K been in the store and learned of that particular prize, she would have left a trail of bruised, maimed and possibly dead people as she clawed her way to the proper Special Square.) Maybe no one was at 17, either, because the "game" came to an abrupt end. Mercifully.
Then, unmercifully, the grating refrains of C&C Music Factory echoed through the aisles. Everybody dance now!!! Another chipper voice started calling out dance instructions. And I started shopping faster. Oh, but not fast enough. Before Freedom Williams was even finished [ahem] rapping, the chipper voice was saying things like "Just step in line if you'd like a balloon animal!" That's when my shopping cart and I rounded the corner and came face to face with a little gaggle of clowns. (Gaggle?! School? Herd? Pack? Colony? Flock? Pod? Rafter? Dray? Swarm? Whatever.)
I held my breath and somehow managed to do a remarkably quick about-face without flipping the cart on its side. My shopping list forgotten, I trotted toward the checkstands and away from the rainbow afro wigs, red suspenders, polka-dot pants and giant shoes. Amplified witty clown banter continued the entire time I was at the checkstand. "Would you like a balloon sword? Ok! What color? Red? Great choice!" This was punctuated by frequent pops of exploding balloons, which I interpreted as the balloons committing suicide to avoid being touched by a clown.
Just as I began to consider a similar escape, the very old man in line ahead of me pointed at a tabloid, turned to me, and said "I've never seen 'Paris at Night.' You know, that Paris Hilton sex video? I've never seen it. I'd like to some day. Maybe. Have you seen it?" I said, "No, but I just saw a bunch of clowns in the grocery store." "Me, too. I hate clowns," he replied. "But I'd like to see that Paris Hilton video. Maybe."
Aaaaand, I think that pretty much guarantees some seriously f'ed-up dreams tonight....
posted by D of D&K at 11:03 PM
4 Comments:
Good Lord, woman. How you were able to sleep at all is a miracle.
xo, mp
Thank you, D, so much for making me laugh outloud!
I have a t-shirt (a gift from grad school friends who know me so well) that is black with the phrase "can't sleep, clowns will eat me" in white courier type, written over and over, descending in size, to form what looks like an upside-down triangle from far away.
I think that if I were you in that store, I would have screamed and pointed like the body snatchers in any of the filmic variations (e.g., Donald Sutherland or Jennifer Tilly).
Oh, K, I couldn't part with it. But I did go googling for you and found http://www.ihateclowns.com
They appear to be the makers of my shirt, but I don't see one exactly like mine. There are plenty others to chose from, though.
This clown-haters' website makes clown-hating a veritable social movement!
Yay, lucyrain! It just so happens that a friend gave me a "can't sleep, clowns will eat me" magnet that I treasure ever so much. It's red & white striped like a box of circus popcorn. Against that background, there's a surprisingly disturbing simple black outline drawing of a clown face with dead, dead eyes. It's creepy and fabulous. And it sometimes keeps people from lingering around my desk at work, which is a nice bonus.
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