I scored a job at the local haunted house, to test my scaring powers on the general public [read Part 1 here]. Finally, the big night had arrived!
THE BIG NIGHT ... OF TERROR!
I'm late for opening night at Scary University. Damn! They'll probably stick me with the least desirable costume after everything else has been picked through. I'm going to end up as "The Scary Girl," or "The Scary Accountant," something lame like that.
No auto-focus on my camera! Scaaaaarrrrrryyyy!
My haunted co-workers are already milling about in their outfits when I arrive. "I'm here to scare the beejeebees out of people!" I proclaim to the second-in-command, who's dressed in a white lab coat and Janet Jackson headset. "What character should I be?"
"The clown," he, and everyone around me, say in unison.
It's a little inside joke. There must have been talk, earlier, about the clown. Ha-ha, I'm the clown. Very funny, haunted house co-workers.
Coulrophobia is fear of clowns. I hate clowns. I'm going to play on people's worst nightmares -- the fear of evil clowns. Perhaps, for the younger kids, I'll cause major childhood traumas that will stem into adulthood! Right on! Hand me that clown outfit.
I put on a large, white clown suit, with a wire middle that makes my belly look enormous. Then I pull on a frightening clown mask, with razor teeth, and ill-fitting eye-slits over my head. It smells like a cross between latex and sweat.
"Can I have a knife!" I demand.
"Sure," says the second-in-command. He presents one to me. Perfect!
I was like Bozo with a meth habit.
There's an unusual sense of quiet before the haunted storm (perhaps a little too quiet). Everyone puts last-minute touches on their scary outfits, as the halls are filled with the background soundtrack of various screams, loud heartbeats, and creepy laughing.
"Last year, we were short-staffed, so I had to run from being the mad scientist, take off my lab coat, then put on a black hood and be the executioner," explains the adult who looks like a midget. "I got a lot of exercise."
IT'S SHOWTIME ... OF TERROR!
My scary clown room contains a large Jack-In-The-Box with a huge, ugly clown head and dangling arms sticking out the sides, lit with creepy, swirling light. Next to it is a smaller box, operating on hydraulics. A rail separates myself from those who might punch me (like last year's unfortunate Dot-Room guy).
THE DEAL: I'm situated in the large clown box. When patrons enter the scary clown room, I push a button, which flips open the small box, revealing a scary clown lit by orange light. Caught off-guard, I fling open the front of the larger box with a loud thud, and jump out screaming, wielding a large knife. SCARY CLOWN!
"Actors, take your positions!" booms the leader's voice from the loudspeaker. "We're about to open the doors."
Pulling on the scary clown mask (with poorly cut eye-slits), I take position. Now, here's me, alone in my clown box. Within minutes, the loud heartbeat (bum-bum bum-bum) and creepy laughter soundtrack are already getting on my nerves.
A surefire way of making people scream would be bursting from my clown box without wearing pants. "I'M A BAD, BAD CLOWN!" I would yell.
Yes, that would be veeeeeery scary. I eventually decide to keep my pants on and test the numerous, different levels of scary. Let the haunting begin! WOOOOOO!
Next: The Scare Tests ... OF TERROR!
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