68) Super Sunday, 2/19: 6:00
AM and After… “What Clowns Do…”
As the cheap tarpaper of the One World Mall’s roof began to
bubble and hiss, Tom Eppert, Westmoreland Soames,
Kristi Chaine and David Lee raced to its edge and
waved frantically to the crowd of looters, jesters and their Queen in the
parking lot…
“Don’t think
they’re watching…” Westy observed.
“They are,” said
Tom Eppert, grimly, after casting longing glances at
the corner of the Mall, beneath which lurked the yellow butt-end of the crane,
just barely visible beneath the collapsed back door to the Giga-Plex warehouse – so near, and yet so far away. “They’d just rather watch us burn than help…”
“Can’t help,”
David tried to give the mob the benefit of the doubt. “Whaddja expect,
someone come along, steal and break out a ladder? That’s the fire department’s job…”
“Then we’re
screwed,” Tom determined. “That asshole
in charge of Giga-Plex got into it heavy with the
locals and the Guard and they just walked off…”
“There’s got to be something…” Westy protested…
“Maybe it’s time to try the other door. Down there!” she pointed north, the little
cube over the former Fuzzy Planet Grocery that held the other stairwell...
appearing and disappearing in the smoke like a Caribbean oasis in the Gobi
desert. “There’s too much fire, up
here…”
“Too many zombies, down there…” Soames
shook his head…
For some reason, Eppert took
offense. “You calling me a zombie? I been workin’
since before dawn…”
“Stash it, Tomboy,” Westy
snarled. “This is serious bullshit…”
A hefty chunk of roof directly over Oil Change Charlie’s
collapsed downwards into the Mall and more flames skyrocketed out, quashing the
discussion. David began limping north,
Kristi circling him, and Tom and Westy followed
reluctantly, only to see the North door flung open and a barely human tide ooze
out. A few carried looted televisions,
sacks of jewelry from Bling Thing, clothes, lingerie, suitcases of beer… a few
wielded guns or knives, most also carried rude weapons: torches, clubs, even
boxes of produce from the Fuzzy Planet Greengrocer. A couple of howling zombies hurled avocados
and pomegranates at the trapped foursome…
“Holy shit!”
David exclaimed a split-second before a champagne bottle – empty but still
heavy – arced out of the sky and clocked him.
¾ ¾ ¾
As towers of flame spewed out from the roof of the One World
Mall, the harmonious sign buckled, leaned, finally
toppled over the edge. The clasped hands
detached and crushed a screaming knot of voyeurs; the great blue globe bouncing
across the parking lot towards the refugee clowns, Giga-clerks and clergyman
gathered around Effie Lou Wilson like medieval serfs paying homage to their
Lady, cowering and crying for deliverance.
Miss Dominator alone stood tall, raised her
imaginary wand to point at the bouncing missile and decreed…
“Away!”
The blue iron
globe struck a great, black, burnt-out SUV and bounced high into the air…
missing Craig and Vicki by less than a yard… then swiveled, rolling beyondwards across the parking lot and onto the
blackout-congested highway, inciting new overtures of crashing metal, screams
and horns.
“That didn’t
exactly work, did it?” asked the cynical Shriner-Clown.
“Was anybody here hit? Shut up, then!” Effie Lou snapped back, her
accent lapsing from Middle Earth to Middle
Vicki prodded
Craig, eyes scanning the gathering bunch of bozos surrounding them. “Let’s uh... get out of here,” she appealed,
pointing. “That one’s the cannibal from
the sewer,” she recoiled, “and that one... he was in the movie that was, uhh...”
As the moving
finger of accusation trembled, the first designated clown stepped forth. “Not to worry, ma’am, I’m the nice Pennywhistle. The evil clown is my evil younger brother...”
“And I’m the nice Captain Spaulding,” said the other,
pulling off her wig. “The bad Captain
Spaulding... I’m his sister!’
Another posse of
looter-looters burst out from behind a roasted produce truck from the grocery
and Craig shoved Vicki forward while she sputtered and spat. “Let’s just get out of here... got to be
a working vehicle in this lot.”
And while all the
great sedans, pickups and SUVs remaining in the parking lot seemed to have been
burned-out or looted to a point beyond uselessness, a drab, little Corolla
remained providentially whole, and Effie Lou flounced towards it with no less
apprehension than Cinderella approaching her carriage. She stopped, opened her purse and withdrew a
small, oblong box…
“Is that bitch
stopping to touch up her goddam face?” Vicki snarled, causing Reverend Godwin
to flinch.
“No, look…” Craig pointed.
While the
refugees and the looter-looters watched... apparently frozen by the spectacle
or decideing what might be worth stealing... the fake
crown, the yellow vests, clown shoes... Effie Lou, withdrawing her needle and
socket, quickly picked the doorlock, then the
ignition and her chariot roared… or, more appropriately, sputtered… to
life. The parking lot princess rewarded
her entourage with a rueful smile…
“In Waxahachie, I
used to be a bad, bad girl…”
“Damn!” replied
the leader of the looter-looters and, with a scowl for the condemnatory
Reverend, directed his army back towards the mall in search of likelier prey.
“Go!”
Craig shepherded
Vicki into the front seat and crowded in next to her – Godwin and Lockett
climbing into the rear. And then the
mania commenced… clowns squeezing in next to them, over them, underfoot and
around, sideways, down… clinging to the roof in layers like a black bean, brown
guac and mozzarella party dip going bad; stuffed into
the open trunk like Mafia victims, still piling in with their rubber chickens, ooga-ooga horns and big, Styrofoam feet hanging out over
the rear fender until a cramped, astonished Trent Lockett cried out… “No
more! No more!”
“More!” replied
the Green Clown. “All of us!”
“We’re clowns…” Blacknose reminded them.
“This is what
clowns do!” counseled the dwarf.
And so, with Joker’s face leering two inches from his own, Craig
Synch pretended to smile while, with Blacknose’s
polka-dotted butt massaging Vicki’s breasts and the nice Pennywhistle gasping
and leering in her face, she reminded him…
“Remember, Craig,
this doesn’t change anything between us…”
“You tell ‘im, lady,” Blacknose chortled,
waggling his somewhat unclean bum.
Vicki tried to
lean back, but the Shriner-Clown’s tongue was licking her ear opposite
Pennywhistle...
“And that goes
double for you!” she warned Effie Lou’s entourage, en masse…
The Joker laughed hysterically, affording Craig full measure of
his garlic meatball supper halitosis as Miss Dominator gunned the engine and
the Corolla finally groaned and wobbled off towards the north, the only exit
remaining onto an unblocked road, and, perhaps, safety.
But, meanwhile… high
above…
¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾
VISIT THESE OTHER GENERISIS SERIAL ABOMINATIONS…
THE GOLDEN DAWN BLACK HELICOPTERS
THE INSURGENCE
of CHAN SANTA CRUZ!