Terrible Experience

When I was very young, I had a friend name John.  I shouldn't really say friend, but we played together on a consistent basis because my mom babysat him while his parents worked. We were about the same age, but John was never very nice to me. He would at times hit me with our toys and call me names. Because I was so young, I couldn't really do anything about it, but I had very bad feelings towards Johns for a long time.

One day I saw John's father get out of his car and I saw it. He worked as a professional clown. At the time, it didn't scare me at all. It wasn't until later that my fear developed. I knew after that why John had been so mean to me. I saw John's father yelling at John and he actually swung at him with his shoe. Clowns wear very large shoes, and I could tell he was hurting him. I never treated John the same again. Even at such a young age, I realized that it was really John's parents that were at the root of the problem.

Everything was fine for the next few months. Until one day, when I went to John's house. His father came home, dressed in his full outfit, and again, he hit John for a reason I don't remember. Then, he came after me. But he didn't hit me. He just brought me inside and sat me down. He started getting changed out of his outfit and I became very uncomfortable. He turned around, wearing nothing but his wig and red nose around his makeup. He also left on the big clown shoes. I immediately ran out of the house, sprinted all the way home (not very far, maybe a half mile), and sat in my backyard playing with my Tonka toy set for about an hour.

I never told my parents. I don't think I ever will. But from that day on, I have always been afraid of clowns. I will never take my future children to a circus. I come to a point where I feel physically sick when I see one, and I can't show my kids that fear.

supdawg supdawg
Mar 12, 2009