Coulrophobia

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right! Here I am. I'm shaking in my boots! (To the Gerry Rafferty tune)

I hate clowns. I have a long embedded aversion to them. They're creepy. I don't like them. Not so much the Hobo type...but rather the "Circus" type. I damn near kicked the shit out of one about ten minutes ago. It's 8:30 on a Saturday morning. My neighborhood is sleepy but now I'm WIDE awake! A knock on the door this early on a Saturday morning has got to be a neighbor. No one else would do that....right? Wrong! Imagine my suprise to open the door and find a creepy assed clown standing as close to my threshold as his big shoes would allow. Frizzy hair, little hat, big red nose, evil grin....yeah, a clown! Bozo....Pennywise....John Wayne Gacey the serial killer clown.....I hate clowns! My heart stopped. Had there been a shotgun by the door, I'd be on my way to jail right now. He had some birthday-gram for some girl. He had the wrong address. He's an asshole. What the hell was he thinking? He has no idea how close he came to being the victim of aggravated battery. He might as well have been dangling a damned rattlesnake in my face. I gotta go take a blood pressure pill.