Clown School 101: Trapped

I breathe in the chilled air as my body shivers from the cool building, my mouth dry, and stomach empty. Opening my eyes, I find myself lying on a cement floor in a dark room.

Sitting up, I look around and see a door is opened and reveals a little bit of light. Around me are party hats tossed on the floor, dark brownish-red stains splattered, and what looks like… teeth pulled out of someone's mouth

What is this? Where - no, who am I?

Glancing down at my clothes, I see I’m wearing a onesie with vertical stripes of all different colors, with white gloves on my hands. “What the-” I wince from a stinging pain and close my mouth. My tongue searches for the bones inside, searching for that hard solid feel.

My mouth is empty.

Those teeth on the floor are mine. My heartbeat quickens at the bloodstained bones. A million questions pop in my mind with no answer, not a trace of a clue to where I am or how I got here.

Straining, my head pounding, I manage to recall that I’m a boy - well, not just a boy, a young man.

That’s all that comes to me. The rest is blank.

If nothing else, right now, I at least know this isn’t the place I want to be. I’m not sure where I am, but something bad happened here, I can feel it. Gooseflesh rises across my arms, and I shiver.

Standing, my body aches from every movement. I stumble and limp to the door that leads to a hallway. “What the-”

I freeze and gaze at the hallway of funhouse mirrors. The image standing before me, my stretched-out reflection, is covered in clown makeup: a white powdered face, red lips, and black circles cover around my eyes.

Someone must have pulled out my teeth, changed my clothes, and done… this to me.

At one end of the hallway is a dead-end, no windows, and the other has red arrows painted on the floor pointing the other way.

My hands tighten into fists as I follow where the arrows lead. An impulse to take off the gloves and the itchy clown suit rises, but a feeling comes over me, that whoever put them on, wouldn’t be too happy if I took them off. Besides, it’s cold here.

The glass hallways wind and narrow around corners. Turning, at the end of the next corridor are several human bodies decapitated with their heads nowhere to be found. Blood covers the floor, and on the walls are words drawn in like fingerpaint.

Walking faster, I come to the mess of gore, and though my heart pounds, I feel calmer than I think I normally would. It must be these clown clothes. Somehow, wearing them doesn’t make me feel... real.

I almost trip over one of the bodies as I come close to the text. Snickering comes from every direction. My eyes widened. Someone’s here - because of course there are. They must be the ones who put me in this clown suit, right?

Kneeling, I’m finally able to read the blood-drawn words.

“Welcome to Clown School, Muffy! Remember to stay a-head of the lessons ;)’

“Clown school... I’m in... clown school?” I look down at the bodies beneath me. One of them is that of an older man, the other of a woman, maybe in her late forties or fifties. A little boy is among them, or what’s left of him. Who are they anyway?

Acid burns the back of my throat for a moment, the urge to sob and never stops rises, but I stifle them. A part of me does want to cry for whatever happened here, but I just can’t allow myself to do it. Strangely enough, these people don’t feel like strangers at all.

“Oh Muffy, come here, Muffy.” The voice of an older man calls from further down the hall. I look at the arrows pointing. I gulp.

I stand and go further until I enter a room with blank cement walls. The moment I step in, a block cement wall comes sliding down from the entrance. It’s sealed shut. A light flickers on.

Disco music blares for a moment as a part of the wall slides up from across the room. Then a smiling clown walks through the entryway, carrying a cane with a human skull at the head.

“Well, well, well, it’s good to see you again so soon, Muffy. You’re looking,” He pauses for a moment, stroking his makeup-covered face. “Funny.” He slaps his knee and laughs.

I stare at the strange man and don’t make a sound. He looks oddly familiar, as if from a dream, and suddenly I can’t stop trembling.

A permanent smile is on his face as he looks me up and down. “Oh, please lighten up a bit, Muffs. You’ll have to learn to find the humor in things. Well, I guess we’ll have to teach you that, too.”

“Where am I? Who are you?” My voice shakes, and I can’t bear to meet his gaze.

He takes out a whistle and blows it hard. “Surprise, you can’t remember anything. Isn’t that wonderful? You probably have a lot of questions - oh, I love it when students do - you’ll learn lots and lots, but now I can only tell you what you need to know, Muffs.”

“M-my name isn’t Muffy.” My hands clench into fists.

“Ha!” The clown folds his arms. “It is now. If it isn’t, then please do tell me what your real name is?” He bats his eyelashes innocently.

“It’s-it’s-” I can’t remember it.

He cackles as I stumble over my words.

“Let me enlighten you then, my friend.” His bloodshot eyes widen. “You are in clown school. You signed up to become one of us of your own free will. Our job is to make you into the clown you were destined to be.”

He pauses and looks off into the distance, his eyes dreamy. “Boy, do I remember my days back in clown school, such sweet times.” Shaking his head violently, he snaps himself out of it.

“Anyway, I’m your wonderful teacher, Buzzly. We started by erasing your memories, back to scratch as they say, and now we’ll build some good old fundamentals, then move onto the fun stuff later.” His devilish grin stretches.

He’s crazy, mad.

Turning in each direction, I look for a way out of here. Yet, the more I look, the more that sinking feeling seeps into my chest. There’s no way out.

Buzzly stares at me.

I scratch my bald, powdered head, sweat racing down my back. “Well, I-I don’t want to be a clown anymore. Just let me out of here.”

He laughs wildly and braces himself by bending over. “Oh, you’re quite the laughing stock.” His arms spread outward, up in the air. “You’re already in the program, paid and everything. First, we erase you, then we build you back from the ground up.”

"I stomp on the ground and my red slippers squeak. “But I don’t want this, let me out. My name isn’t Muffy, and I know I don’t belong here.” Walking over to him, he grins and pulls out a device with a red button on it.

He presses it.

Every cell in my body electrifies, burning, as my voice box scorches from a scream I can barely comprehend. The shock is over in a flash and I’m on my hands and knees on the floor.

“We’re going to start with an easy question for your learning. I’ll give you a hint, you already know the answer. What’s your name, my funny friend?”

Gasping for breath, I look up and glare at him, anger surging. No one has the right to do this to me. He’s belittling me, demeaning who I am. “Why don’t you go fuc-”

Again, the shock comes - only longer this time, the blazing sensation an eternity of pain.

He presses a hand to his ear. “What was your name again? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I won’t-”

He shocks me again and again without asking anymore until my body burns and tingles at every limb. It's almost impossible to move. Fresh tears fall from my eyes as my lips tremble.

“Tell me your name.”

“Muffy.” My voice is hoarse.

“Don’t be rude, introduce yourself!”

“I-I’m Muffy the clown, that’s me. It’s who I am and all I’ll ever be”

He shocks me for just a second. “Better, but you were trying a bit too hard that time. You need to make things fun as a clown.” Buzzly then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a huge bible-thick book. “Now, let’s move on to memorizing the nine-thousand-nine hundred-ninety-nine rules of clownship.”

He half-smiles. “I think you’ll be quite shocked to find out what they are.”

Digging my nails into my dry scalp, I shake my head. “No, no no, please!”

His laughter echoes throughout the room. Then his upper lip curls as he smirks. “Don’t act too excited now. This is only the beginning.”

CLOWN SCHOOL 101: CLASS IS NOW IN SESSION!