“Aww, come on- you don’t want the kiddos to be disappointed, do ya?” hollers the huge painted mouth by my face. The size of his mouth make his eyes appear small and beady, strangely threatening. I can feel the stringy red plastic hair hanging off his bald cap brush my cheek.
“I’m not comfortable with this…I never asked…” I say weakly.
“Wassa matter? Gettin cold feet?” shrilly screeches the other one, dressed as a baby. He uses his big clown shoe to “step” on my foot. A mock shudder runs through him and he “brrs” to the hysterical laughter of children. Hysterical laughter that borders on screaming. The troupe of clowns laugh, a sound like the mocking laughter of one watching a person get their comeuppance; a harsh hateful sound emitting from their bright faces. And then the plastic tub comes out- full of brown and grey writhing and wiggling.
“And since it’s little Jo’s 8th birthday, we’ve got lots of friends with EIGHT legs for you!” The tub is raised high above my head, and the living contents fall.