Attic Clowns: Volume Four (6 page)

BOOK: Attic Clowns: Volume Four
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“Globcow pass test?” the demon says.

“Yes,” I say. “Congratulations, little one.”

The demon hops up and down. “Globcow become angel now?”

“Not yet, but I detect in you a virtuous soul, and I am fully confident that you will earn angel status someday. All that is required is for you to work hard, and for you to listen carefully to my every word. Can you do this for me?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Good.”

I gently pat my imp’s little head, and without further delay, I begin the next lesson.

 

 

The Hobo

 

 

 

There’s a version of me downstairs, dressed in brand new silk pajamas, reading a story about dragons to my two youngest sons. And at the same time, there’s the version of me up above them in the attic, dressed in a tattered blue suit patched with rags. Standing in front of a cracked mirror, I put on my fingerless black gloves and my worn derby hat.

“You’re looking sharp,” Scabs the Hobo Dog says at my heels.

I smile at my reflection, but the grin is lost in the eternal frown of my white makeup.

After I finish dressing, I sit by the railroad tracks that run through my attic. I search through the cardboard boxes that surround me.

“What’s taking you so long?” Scabs whines. “We need to get this show on the road.”

“I don’t know what to take with me,” I say. “It’s hard to choose.”

“Leave it all behind.”

“It’s not so easy, Scabs.”

“But you’re never going to see these people again.”

I ignore Scabs, and continue to search through the boxes. I find the stuffed gargoyle that my wife gave me when we first started dating. During that era of our relationship, we had an inside joke about gargoyles, but I can’t remember it anymore. Despite the faded memory, the gargoyle makes me smile.

In another box, I discover a drawing that my youngest son made for me during kindergarten. With crayons, he drew a picture of me standing on the head of a giraffe. When I asked him why I was standing on a giraffe, he answered that giraffes are very, very tall. In the next box, I find my other son’s coconut monkey collection. He likes to set them up like bowling pins in the backyard and knock them down with a soccer ball. In the smallest box, I discover my daughter’s retainer. A couple years ago, she left this retainer at a Sizzler, and my wife and I spent a half an hour searching through their dumpster trying to find it. We never did.

I try to pack everything into my handkerchief sack, but it won’t all fit.

“Is there any way to shrink all this down?” I say.

Scabs laughs. “Want do you want, a shrink ray?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“I thought you were supposed to be my best friend.”

“That’s a myth.”

I pack away as much of my memories as possible, and I stand.

The attic shudders. The antique mirror falls to the floor and shatters into a thousand tiny fragments. My heart pounds.

I close my eyes, and I can hear my wife’s voice breaking as she tries to scream at me. I can see my cubicle waiting, staring at me with black computer screens for eyes. I can smell my mother dying on a hospital bed.

“Here we go,” Scabs says.

The train rolls by, from one end of the attic to the other.

Scabs leaps into one of the open cars.

“Come on!” the Hobo Dog says.

I grip the stick with my sack tied to the end. I don’t know why, but I hold my breath. I prepare to jump.

And as always, I let the train pass.

I wash off my makeup, and I kiss my sons and turn out the lights.

 

 

About the Author

 

 

Jeremy C. Shipp
is the Bram Stoker nominated author of books such as
Cursed, Vacation
,
and
Fungus of the Heart.
 His shorter tales have appeared or are forthcoming in over 60 publications, the likes of
Cemetery Dance, ChiZine, Apex Magazine, Pseudopod,
and
Withersin
.  Jeremy enjoys living in Southern California in a moderately haunted Victorian farmhouse called Rose Cottage. He lives there with his wife, a couple of mighty cats, and a legion of yard gnomes. The gnomes like him. The clowns living in his attic—not so much.

 

Feel free to visit his online home at
www.jeremycshipp.com
. His twitter handle is
@JeremyCShipp
.

Table of Contents

The Ascension of Globcow the Foot Eater

The Hobo

The Ascension of Globcow the Foot Eater

Table of Contents

The Ascension of Globcow the Foot Eater

The Hobo

The Ascension of Globcow the Foot Eater

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