It is a privilege to know what I know
Trisha; the clown slayer
Recently, police in a small suburb of Charlotte, NC discovered the aftermath of a massacre underneath a bridge. The body parts of five homeless men and women were strewn haphazardly in pools and trails of blood. It only seemed haphazard to the untrained eye, but the body parts and blood had actually been arranged into the sign of the Angled One. The local police station was eager to apprehend the killer or killers as Halloween approached and members of the community expressed anxiety about letting their children out to enjoy the holiday. It was the bloodiest single incident of violence in the town’s recent history and the hysteria was compounded by the reports of creepy clowns lurking in the woods behind the local school, hospital, and some apartment complexes.
Trisha Canker was a local mother of two who personally appeared at the police station to make her concerns known. She spoke over the other parents and they were content with her words as she said with a single voice what they had all showed up to say. “We know it was the clowns. Your station didn’t do anything about them and now they’re killing homeless people. This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have to worry about my children walking home from school. You work for us and you’re supposed to keep our neighborhood safe, and frankly, I think you’ve all been asleep on the job and should pay back your salaries.” The citizens of the community practically applauded in agreement.
“Ma’am,” the police chief responded, “we hear your complaints and we are working very hard to find the perpetrator of this crime, and to rid this community of the people dressing up like clowns. But I have to say that the clowns appear to just be kids with a sick sense of humor…” the chief raised his voice over the disgruntled groans of the people who were not convinced that the clowns were harmless, “and until we have a solid connection between the two, we’re treating these as two very separate issues.”
“It’s that kind of ignorance that undermines the safety of our community.” Trisha said. “Do your jobs and while you all twiddle your thumbs, I’m going to organize to take back our community. Anyone who wants to save their children, meet me at my house this evening at 6.” The crowd dispersed with a sense of resolve.
Later that evening as parents packed into Trisha’s house, Trisha paced back and forth in front of the gathered crowd and detailed her plans for ridding the town of creepy clowns who mostly wore masks and brandished weapons while standing still in order to undermine the safety of innocuous places. There had been about ten sightings, mostly by children who had seen the clowns and reported that they did not approach them or say a word.
“We’ll go out tonight in groups and canvas the woods. We’ll drag these clowns to the police station ourselves to face justice for their horrific crime.” Trisha said passionately.
The crowd expressed their agreement, but one father seemed nervous at the fervor of the room. He managed to talk over the crowd and addressed Trisha. “What if we’re jumping to conclusions? My kid has one of those clown masks, but I know he didn’t hack homeless people to death. He was doing homework in the living room when it happened.”
“Sir, there is a bad element in our town and before it showed it’s painted face, there were no massacres of this kind.” Trisha answered. “We would be naive not to make this connection. Just because your son has a mask it doesn’t mean he’s one of the creeps making our town less safe. And you should want to get rid of creepy clowns even more so that your son isn’t lumped in with them. So, let’s get it together everyone, we’re putting an end to this tonight.”
The parents split up into ten groups and they moved with flashlights through the woods near the school, the hospital, the bridge near the homeless massacre, the streets of downtown, and nine out of ten of them discovered nothing, though they were content to be the face of resistance against the nuisance element. But Trisha’s group, that had started their search on the edge of the woods near the massacre and pushed into the thick tangle of branches and vines, stumbled onto a decrepit house in a clearing of the woods. The group of parents whispered and pointed at the rotting walls and missing windows that broadcast a faint light inside.
“No one’s lived there for years.” One of the parents said. “I’m surprised that it hasn’t collapsed.”
Trisha’s heart raced. “We won’t let anyone make us afraid in our own community. Let’s go.”
Trisha led the group silently to the front door and they heard music, laughter, and talking inside. She kicked in the door and the group marched in to confront a group of young people who were smoking and drinking. There were clown masks scattered on the floor around them as well as machetes and butcher’s knives. Trisha picked up one of the masks and wagged it at the young people as she talked. Trisha’s group outnumbered the young people two to one and they were angry. Trisha’s anger seemed to amplify theirs.
Trisha yelled, “You won’t get away with this. We won’t let you. Grab them!”
The adults moved in to grab the young people who protested and resisted, which gave the adults the excuse they wanted to become violent. Punches were thrown, people were pushed and put in holds. When one of the young girls slapped Trisha, she didn’t think twice before she grabbed one of the knives on the floor and stabbed the girl multiple times. She screamed, “This is our neighborhood! You don’t belong here.”
The group of adults didn’t hesitate to echo Trisha’s violence and soon there was another massacre, and ten adults breathing heavily over corpses, feeling justified in the brutality.
“Take the weapons and the masks.” Trisha said. “We won’t have to worry about anymore clowns, and we know the police won’t ever solve this. No one say a word.”
The group left and kept their secret. The next day at another meeting of angry parents at the police station, parents complained of missing teenagers. The police did their best to assure everyone that their investigation would be thorough. Trisha did not attend the meeting. She was fitting her children for Halloween costumes.
Epilogue
We could not be happier with the panic so far. The Enlightened One expresses his enthusiasm for our efforts daily on his website. He tells us that the Angled One is closer than ever before and if we listen, he speaks to us in the silence. He is pleased, he is stronger everyday.
PRL Serials 