I did spot a Murder Clown, once…
It was a few weeks ago, maybe a month, and I hadn't heard
much about people dressed as scary clowns in the news yet, so I didn't know it
was a thing that was happening around the world, it was just a clown to me,
simply this and nothing more.
Simply a demonic-looking clown, in early September, walking
down 17th avenue in the middle of the night, holding a machete and drenched in
what appeared to be human blood. Nothing to see there, nothing to worry
yourself overmuch about…
And what’s odd is: I didn’t worry myself overmuch about it.
It was early for Halloween, to be sure, but I’m all for starting Halloween
early, the Christmas people are starting November 1st nowadays, why shouldn’t
those of us who like a scare claim a second month? We’re worth it, and the
holiday of my people is every bit as valid as theirs!
By “My People” I mean “Aging Goth Kids,” that was clear,
yeah?
Yeah?
Good.
So yes, I did see a Murder Clown, and rather than recoiling
I smiled, nodded, and exchanged a quick high-five before continuing on my way
home, filing it alongside all the other ways 17th avenue can be a messed-up
place to go after dark on weekends.
Only a month later, reading a think-piece asking “What does
it all mean?” Did I realize it might be anything noteworthy, sociologically
speaking. At the time it was simply two dudes who are a little too into
Halloween connecting with one another, the way that humans do, over their
shared love of a thing, distressing though that thing might be to some, then
coming away feeling a little closer and more connected to the world in which
they live, having learned that that world is a wider, weirder place than they
give it credit for being in their day-to-day lives…
Because, at the end of the day, that’s exactly what it was.
