I've never had a particular fear of clowns. But then I've never read Stephen King, nor do I watch many horror movies.
No, worries. Scary clowns will pop up in Colorado when one least expects it.
Many moons ago I used to work at a print shop in Colorado. Of course, most of my co-workers were men and I got along with most all of them.
I'll call one of my co-workers, Sal. Sal was about my age and had spent most of his life as a paper cutter. For those not familiar with print shops--most presses print out a variety of the same images on the same sheet of paper and then the paper is sent to the paper cutter who slices the big sheets.
Sal and I became pretty good friends over the years. He disproved the notion that men don't talk as much as women. Every chance he got, he'd tell me what was on his mind.
Sal was a skinny dude with hyper tendencies. He rather reminded me of a scarecrow on LSD. Not that he ever did LSD to my knowledge.
One day he told me that though he'd worked in print shops since high school, that at one time he had a part-time career as a party clown.
Well color me shocked! Sal has quite the mouth on him. F this, F that. He didn't use the F word in anger much, but he had a potty mouth that would put the Goodfellas to shame.
So, Sal is bouncing around telling me how he used to love being a clown at children's parties.
"Yeah! F---ing A! I was one of the best party clowns ever. F---ing A!"
Sal used the phrase F---ing A an awful lot. So much so, that after I listened to tales of his clown career replete with F---ing A thrown in every few sentences, I asked him, "Parents actually used to let you into their houses to entertain their innocent children?"
"F---ing A yeah they did! I was one of the best party clowns ever!"
"Hmmm, most party clowns have a name. I think I'm going to dub you Faquin A, the party clown."
Sal stared at me through narrowed eyes. "Faquin A? What's that?"
Sometimes people are real clowns . "It's a polite way to say that someone who says F---ing A every time when referring to clowns or most anything for that matter, should have a street name. Faquin A, the party clown! With that name I believe you can revive your career."
My brief discussion with Sal about his party clown career still did not turn me against clowns. Honestly, I rarely think about clowns. Until now.
It was a review I read online about a Florence Colorado antiques store that happily announced the shop had NO scary clown toys.
The clown universe is trying to get my attention and get me to think about Faquin A party clowns, darn it. And then this little gem popped up.
On Jan. 14, 2015 the Florence Colorado police blotter had an interesting little item. For those people who don't read the Florence Police Department blotter in the Canon City Daily Record or the Florence Citizen, you are missing out on a treat that keeps many of the local citizens in stitches. We have no need of party clowns or any other type of clowns. We just have to read the police blotter.
The Jan. 14 entry read: "Pikes Peak Avenue and Main, a report of a male party dressed as a circus clown. He was wearing a red nose, green wig and was barking at squirrels. Officers responded and spoke with male party, who was indeed dressed as a clown. He does this professionally and was otherwise appropriate. No report was taken."
Oh, me oh my! You don't even need my feelings on this police blotter entry. The joke potential is enormous.
..."who was indeed dressed as a clown..." INDEED. OK, the fine officers deemed the party as otherwise appropriate. I can just imagine the officers racking their brains for tidbits they learned at the police academy. Hmmm, a clown barking at squirrels. Nope, not in the training manual. Doesn't sound like a reason to put anyone on a 72-hour mental evaluation hold.
I wonder if the officers asked for the clown's credentials. Perhaps the clown had a diploma from clown college? Or maybe he was just one of the many free-spirited clowns without credentials that roam Colorado looking for their next gig.
I would have loved to been a fly on the wall when those officers went home to their loved ones, hugged their significant others and told them NEVER to entertain the idea of letting a clown into their homes.
I'd also love to know what was going through the reporting party's mind when they called 911. "Hello, 911. What's my emergency? Well, um... There is a clown barking at squirrels and I'm afraid a squirrel is going to jump the clown and rip off his big, red nose..."
I admit, I've barked at squirrels even dressed in street clothes. OK, that was a lie. I never have. I've never even thought about it.
I wonder if Sal did revive his career as Faquin A, the party clown and stopped by Florence to bark at some squirrels. If it was Sal--Sal was harmless, but I'd still never recommend him for a children's party.
I am scared of clowns after all this? Faquin A, yeah! I sure am.
