Issue #190 : After The Laughs
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Georgie stopped short, the mop bucket slamming against his knees as he did so. He grunted in pain as he bent down to massage his leg, keeping his focus on the front window.
Standing outside, in the middle of the raging storm was a clown. It was waving at him wildly as the neon colored pom-poms on the front of his costume danced crazily in the wind.
Georgie went to the door, twisted the lock and cracked it open.
“Yeah?”
Relief was clear underneath the smeared makeup.
“Thank you. I’m so sorry to be a bother. My car broke down up the road. Would you have a phone I could use?”
Thunder crashed overhead, causing both men to jump. Georgie stepped out of the way to let the other through and relocked the door.
“Thank you, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’ll call for a tow and be out of your hair.”
“What are you going to do?” Georgie asked. “Call the truck and sit in your car, out in the rain for an hour and half?”
“I don’t—”
“I’m the only one here until 5 o’clock. Just have the truck pick you up here.”
“Really? I can’t thank you enough for—”
Georgie waved him off. “Just don’t start doing balloon animals or magic tricks or juggling or some shit. Just think of it as a kindness.”
The clown nodded. “Well, I appreciate it. Names Derry, by the way.”
“Okay. Good meeting you. Phone through there”
He watched as Derry retreated to the front office and returned to his mopping. He could only hope that the man would instinctively know to wait for the tow truck in relative silence. He didn’t need to be a mute, but Georgie didn’t want him jabbering his ear off either.
He heard the sound of Derry’s voice from the other room for several minutes before the clattering of the phone onto the receiver. Derry emerged, looking like he had tried to wipe most of the makeup off his face.
“I don’t want to be a pain,” he said. “I’ll just wait by the front there.”
Georgie nodded as he watched him take a seat, looking out into the rain as he did so.
“Helluva storm, isn’t it?” The guy evidently had a different idea of what it meant to not be a pain. “I’ve always loved the storms.”
Georgie nodded without responding, not giving two shits one way or the other.
“These long-distance gigs are brutal. I get back so late and the cost of gas barely makes it worth it. But I have to work, you know?”
Georgie let the squeak from the bucket stand as his only response.
“Yeah, you get to see a really different side of the world this late at night. It’s surreal, you know? Easy to get lost in yourself.”
The conversation was rapidly nearing the end of his patience.
“You know in some cultures, it’s believed that during a thunderstorm your soul is reborn.”
Georgie let the mop handle drop to the floor and retreated to the back. The guy was still babbling on about Eastern mysticism or something as Georgie reached into the closet and pulled out a long handled axe, the heavy metal head glimmering in the light.
He knew there had been a good reason to bring it to work today.
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