Squeaky Shoes In The Dark
Chrissy Davidson, a long-time mixologist in an upmarket cocktail and piano bar, loved her job, but always hated the commute back home. Many of her colleagues lived on the other side of the city, and she had no choice but to catch the late bus back to her apartment. She walked towards the bus station with the usual levels of alertness and anxiety. She never wore her headphones at night, because this part of town, whilst relatively safe and free of the more rough-and-tumble denizens, has never been totally peaceful, seeing more than it’s fair share of crime in the past. And, although the city’s mayor has long promised to “deal with the scourge of crime wreaking havoc on our fair city’s people”, it felt like, at times, very little had actually improved.
She boarded the bus after a short wait, but she felt little change in her state of nervousness, always on edge with the late night drunks and other assortment of ne’er-do-wells who frequent the bus at this particular hour. She glanced at some of the other passengers. One man, who smiled at her in a leering manner to which she was already sadly accustomed. Another man, sat a few rows further back, had his hood pulled over his face, his muscular physique obvious even with the thick jacket covering it up. She looked out the window, partly to see when her stop was coming up, and partly to avoid eye contact with anyone.
“Hey baby! You know you’d be prettier if you smiled more!” said the previously-creepily smiling passenger, words slightly slurred as a result of the somewhat-potent and cheap alcohol he must have consumed earlier that evening “I can give you a thing or two to smile about!”.
She turned even more towards the window, hoping he’d shut up and quickly ignore her, but unfortunately for her, he persisted.
“Hey! Hey! I’m talking to you!”
“I have a boyfriend, please leave me alone” She replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. She, in fact, had been single for some time, but she found that pretending otherwise would sometimes make people like him lose interest.
“I didn’t ask about no boyfriend, sugarlips, I’m offering you a chance to know what a real man is like! What, you too good for me or something!?”
Fortunately, her stop was next and she briskly alighted from the bus and walked back towards her apartment. Her relief was short-lived, as she felt a presence behind her. She decided to quicken her pace and try to lose whomever was following her. She ducked in and out of narrow alleys and little side streets, but she could hear the shambling steps of her pursuer, as well as….squeaking?
“Why’ve you gotta be such a stuck-up bitch!? Too good for me, huh!?” Snarled the drunken man from the bus “Come back here!” He quickened his pace as she broke out into run. However, despite his inebriated state, he kept up with her. She made a turn, which sadly, was a dead end. The man stopped, and leered at her, a malicious glee was present in his eyes. He slowly advanced towards her, pulling out a small switchblade from his pocket, sensing and relishing the fear within her.
“Not too good for me now, are you!” He snarled. She was too scared and stunned to speak, let alone try to avoid him. Suddenly, a shadow appeared from behind him and drew closer, with rhythmic squeaking as it approached.
She could see…a clown? She looked at the person behind the drunkard. He was nothing like any clown she had ever seen.
Big Honko was over 6 feet, with the physique of an NFL Lineman. Although he had the typical small sized hat, wig and what appeared to be clown make-up, his costume somehow accentuated his powerfully-built frame, the baggy trousers appearing more fitted to his legs than being comically large. She looked slowly down towards the gigantic red, curved shoes, which she noticed had steel toecaps at the end of each one. Chrissy wasn’t sure what scared her more, the drunk or this nightmarish (yet oddly attractive) specimen
The drunk turned around and looked up at this towering harlequin god-like figure and despite the fear that held him, he waved his knife threateningly.
“Who the fuck are you!? You a fucking jester or something” He growled to the clown
The clown grinned, although the smile did not reach his eyes.
“Close. I’m a clown, sometimes I bring a smile to children’s faces. And sometimes, I do…this” Honko reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gigantic hammer, that seemed comical and clownish at first, but on closer inspection seemed to be deadly, especially in the hands of Honko, who wielded it single-handedly with ease.
Chrissy, at a safe distance but still rooted to the spot, watched the bizarre spectacle unfold.
“You think you fuckin’ scare me, Pennywise!? You may intimidate the little kiddies, you freak, but you ain’t foolin’ me!” He foolishly lunged at Honko with the blade, but was easily avoided, although he did scrape part of the clown’s sleeve. Honko looked at the damage done to his costume, anger rising rapidly within him.
“I just had that re-sewn, you beer swindling fuck!” He roared and hit the drunk square in the stomach with his mallet, a comedic honk sounded out on contact, although for the drunk, the effect was anything but. The hammer sent him flying, his fall fortunately broken by some trash bags which were lying on the pavement. Honko glared at him, the anger reaching a boiling point as he advanced upon his would-be attacker.
The drunk was winded, coughing violently, but by a miracle, stood up and briskly limped away, all thoughts of dominance and lust cast aside.
Honko watched him shamble away, he thought of pursuing him, but happened to spot a whole pie amongst the trash, somehow fully intact. He casually approached it. Chrissy watched him inspect it and nod as if in approval.
Honko looked up at the shambling figure in the distance and smiled to himself.
“Oh no you don’t! You owe me a new suit!” he then proceeded to hurl it like a discus, and to Chrissy’s surprise, it hit her attacker flush on the back of the head, instantly knocking him out. She saw him walk over to the drunk’s limp form, pick him up in a fireman’s carry and launch him unceremoniously into a nearby dumpster. He turned back towards her, with concern in his eyes.
“You ok, miss?” He asked.
She mumbled something unintelligible in response. She took in more of his face and features. She had always had a deep and profound fear of clowns, ever since she was a child. The fear that had rooted her to the spot vented itself outwards, like when boiling kettle starts to bubble. She screamed and with a turn of speed that impressed Honko, dashed off wildly into the city.
Honko stood there, puzzled and uncertain, but then realized that not everyone is happy to see a 6ft, 250lb clown .
