- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Good Clown
No one knows what happened to Quarter Dumb after that cold rainy October day in 1991. Three weeks prior to the arrest, he was the quirky crazy clown that parents hired to entertain at their kids birthday parties. He told corny jokes that made five year olds laugh. The pirate swords and weenie dogs made out of balloons looked disfigured to where they could only satisfy people with the mind of a sixth grader. There was almost something sinister about how he paraded around town with his blood red stringed hair, and how his sky blue eyeshadow devoured the top of his eyelids. He had a nose like santa’s, red and plump like a cherry. He had something like blood on his lips, red enough to be fresh, but there was no way it was dried blood. The alabaster white paint that covered his head to his neck, and then some more on his hands. He wore a regular clown costume, it was like something a person twenty years earlier would find normal. He would dance around town, and climb out of little cars with his brethren.
He enjoyed long walks in the New England woods. He loved the shadows cast by the tall brown stalks with branches spanning several feet, the soft green shrubbery that claimed most of the ground, and he liked stumbling on streams and creeks of water running off the path. He felt one with nature, he was finally at peace.
Quarter Dumb resided in the appalachian mountain town in northern Maine called Westminster. About 6 years earlier in October, there was a blustering New England wind in the small town of Westminster, when a young man named Stephen King was passing through, when he saw a Quarter Dumb looking in the woods. Mr. King was inspired, he stopped to stay the night at a motel, and pounded on his typewriter all night. He wrote a book called IT. Later in the 90’s a miniseries was made. I wonder how that affected clowns. As soon as that horrid book was published, poor Quarter Dumb found that instead of children running up to him and asking for a balloon animal they shrieked in horror and ran away. He was having a hard time booking children’s parties, but the local corn maze wanted him as the main attraction.
One day a “Businessman” approached Quarter Dumb to be the entertainment at his son’s 12th birthday party. The businessman had glistening blonde hair and pale blue eyes that made him look like he was a Nazi experiment gone right. His nose was crooked with a small wart in a crease between the face and his nose. This “Businessman” was of a long lineage of “Businessmen”. His name was Jerald “Johnny” Johnson. The “Business” he owned was a meat business. Quarter Dumb did not care, he just needed a job and the Businessman offered him $250 in cash. The business man had a devilish smile as the first part of his plan was in action.
The day of the party had arrived. It was a late fall day in October when the leaves are starting to fall off of the tree’s and the colorblind people go crazy. The one thing in particular about this time of year is that this is when the “Businessman” had a hunger in his stomach. Walter’s dad thought it was fitting to show his son the miniseries of It. After the showing he knew it was time to tell Walter the secret to his company. He was Walters age when he found out, now it was his time. Walter was excited for his party, but then he saw Quarter Dumb walk in, his pupils dilated in fear. The party was weird. His dad kept on talking to his friend Bartholomew (Bart), and Billy. They were large for their age, slow witted, but had always been nice to Walter. Quarter Dumb talked to them for a long time too, which he thought was even weirder.
After the party, Bart and Billy decided to take the shortcut to their houses through the woods. The “Businessman” walked them to the woods. Quarter Dumb departed to the woods another way, where he started his evening walk.
The two kids in didn't go home that evening, so a volunteer search party was sent out to find them. The last place they were seen was in the wood. Quarter Dumb was taking his nightly stroll through the woods when the search party came upon him; he was at the wrong place and the wrong time.
The police had plastic shields that could have stopped a bus, in on hand, and pistols in the other. Quarter dumb went to ask them what was going on, but then a metal thing went through his hand. The stab of pain and the warm red liquid rushing down his arm put him in a state of extreme pain. The bullet hole was not a lovely sight. The blood loss hurt him so badly that he passed out from shock.
The “Business man finished his food as he walked out of the building, he saw that his plan succeeded, the clown was down. His son was ready to learn the truth.
Federal prison is not a five star hotel. You have those guys with dragons, and hearts on their skin, while others have rings pierced almost everywhere on their bodies. Quarter Dumb was stuck with them, just now his name was Billy, and he had milk chocolate hair with red pigmentation. His face ands hands were pale from the clown paint. He was a decent looking man but he had a short stature with blubber on his body acting as a natural insulator. His costume hid that from the world. Now he was a world class criminal in the U.S. Weirdly, there was a huge population in this place. It seemed like a safe haven to the prisoners, just with no escaping. No one could break in to get back at them, in these cells with three inch bars, and The eight feet of concrete separating them from the rest of the world. This was a prison for Billy, Quarter Dumb, whatever you choose to call him. Nature was impossible to see or hear in this place. Why couldn’t he just walk in the woods without be
The “Man” always thought the fattest children tasted the best. Every time one was executed he would take them put them in a mill, and he would do this each month during what he called the Harvest. The harvest was the time of month when the “Crop” was ripe enough to cook up and sell. Each month several kids would be picked from his son’s friends. His son always seemed to have infinite fat friends. It was like a gold mine.
Though sometimes, to keep the suspicion low, he would just take kids off the street. It is easy to get a fat kid off the Street. The man would have an Ice Cream truck. He drove it around once a month. He would wait for a fat kid to come up alone then he would tell him to help him look for the flavour in the back. The doors would close and boom, fresh meat.
The “Businessman” said to Walter, “It is time for you to know the secret to our business son.”
“What is it dad?”
“Come with me and you will find out.”
Walter got in his dad’s car. It was a very nice car, with a black interior, and a red exterior. On the way to the slaughter house he saw numerous keep out signs.
“Don’t worry son, it will be fine. We own these signs.”
They had finally arrived at the house. The smell of rotting skin and bones filled their noses. The barn looked old.
“Walter, you will get used to it.”
As they walked in they saw the lines of fat pigs, with faces of sadness, just about to be slaughtered by the machine. The machine was large, it had huge letters on it that spelled out MIXER. The mixer is where all of the ingredients are combined. It is a very delicate machine.
He walked Walter into a room.
“This is the special ingredient room!”
“What is in here?”
Walter suddenly saw Billy’s, and Bart’s clothes,“That is not possible, it can’t be!”
“Yes it is,” called a familiar raspy voice.
“Who said that?”
“I did,” Then walter saw sausages, jello, and other fattening foods in a feeding trough with a unfamiliar boy in it.
“But Why Are You Doing this Dad?”
The “Businessman” barely audible said, “For our Business, This month’s special ingredients, B Boys.”
Walter looked into the eyes of a man he once knew, who he once loved with all of his heart. He started hating this man, the one that helped bring him into this world.
His dad was about to slaughter this poor child. He suddenly saw a slop bucket. He grabbed it and bloody pig parts flew into his father's face, his dad dropped the keys. He grabbed them, and unlocked the cage with the kid in there. As they ran out of the secret ingredients room. A faint sound could be heard.
“I’m gonna get you!”
Walter started to sprint with the kid close behind him.
“I’M GONNA GET YOU!”
Walter ran even faster trying to get to the barn in the distance. It felt too far but they eventually made it past the looming tree’s. The father couldn’t catch up. Walter used the phone at the barn and phoned the cops. They made it there in record time. Walters dad had made it right as the cops showed up.
Quarter Dumb disappeared after that, after hearing the children's story. He felt horrible after he found out that he worked for that horrid man. Many believe he became a buddhist monk to cope with his depression of clowns being discriminated against.