Clowns Are ScaryWhen I was a kid, despite my mother’s history of being abused, she occasionally left me to stay with my grandparents. Apparently, she minimized her childhood in her head. That’s the only way that I can really comprehend why she would even think of leaving me alone there. It just happened to be the house she grew up in, which is even creepier, because I knew some of what happened in those rooms. Anyhow, I stayed the night there on occasion when my mother didn’t have a baby sitter and then again for about a month when I was 11 because my mother went into rehab while pregnant with my brother.
My grandfather was a scary man. He was 6’ 6” and naturally huge. All the men on my mother’s side of the family are huge. They wear xx and xxx sizes and they are not fat. They are just big. My Grandfather was a chain smoker and said **** a lot. If you walked in front of the tv you had to duck down not to mess up his view, because he’d yell in his deep voice, “Get the **** outta the way!” He was always really ugly to my grandmother too. So, that will forever be my image of him. I’ll always see him as the mean old scary looking man that sat in his rocking chair, flicking his cigarette ashes on the floor for my grandmother to clean up, with a scowl in his face, yelling sentences with the word **** at people.
My grandmother was a sweet woman, but very much a doormat. It’s sad, I know. Well, her little reprieve from my grandfather was the spare room. She got into a hobby of collecting clowns. She had hundreds of them in this spare room. I guess to her, going into that room made her happy. This was not the same for anyone else, especially me. The mixture of knowing the family history of what happened in that house and my scary grandfather made that room very creepy.
When I would stay there, my grandmother would have me sleep in her clown room. She’d say it like it was some sort of special gift to me allowing me to sleep in her special room. Even though that room scared the **** out of me, I didn’t want to tell her so, because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
When I’d sleep in there, I’d pull the covers tight around my body, making sure the covers were tight under my feet. I wouldn’t want those clown teeth biting off my toes you know…lol. Then I’d pull the covers over my head. I guess in my imagination, they couldn’t get me if I did so. Sometimes beyond those covers, I’d feel like something was right there next to me. Sometimes I’d peak above the covers and I swear the clowns moved!
To this day, I have this thing about having the bedding tucked under my feet. I can’t sleep with my feet exposed. I even do it in my sleep. While I’m sleeping I keep pulling the covers under me with my feet, which causes me to steal all the covers.
The movie the Exorcist didn’t scare me. Most scary movies don’t scare me, but if the movie has clowns in it, it scares the hell out of me.
Oh and my grandparents were involved in the Moose Lodge. Guess what my grandfather dressed up as at one of their Halloween parties? A clown!