Funzo; formally known as Brian; returned to his hotel room. It had been a little over a
month since his transformation had concluded itself. At first he was relieved that no new
changes had happened to him, but quickly despaired when he showed no signs of
returning to normal. As the days went by Funzo had stayed inside moping about his
situation. Bridget stopped being a source of comfort to him as she started to openly mock
him more and more about his transformation into a clown. Sometimes Funzo thought she
did it to truly be cruel. He dismissed these thoughts, because the idea of the only person
who he could now rely upon, during this ordeal, actually hated him would just drive him
into a truly dark depression.
Bridget had pointed out that if his parents came home and found a clown in their house
they would flip out and demand answers. Funzo realized he wasn’t ready to answer those
questions, but wasn’t sure what to do. It was Bridget who suggested he rent himself out
to birthday parties and bar-mitzvahs or any event that need a clown. It took a lot of
prodding but Funzo finally agreed. He started slowly with one event a day, but quickly
moved onto more. His nerves caused him to take each event seriously, and his curse
would cause him to act clownier as a result.
Funzo encountered problems early in when he realized that he couldn’t cash checks or
start a bank account without proper ID, and people didn’t normally issue proper ID to
clowns. Funzo talked to Bridget and soon she was having all checks put in her name and
started an account for him. More problems arose when Bridget started giving Funzo only
a small stipend to live on, since she was the only one with access to the money. It was
just enough to pay for a hotel room, some food, and transportation to and from his clown
gigs each week. He couldn’t even afford a nice hotel room, and was forced into a small
cheap one. Bridget had told him she was saving the money for him and to trust her, but
she seemed to delight in making him miserable. He knew he hurt her when he slept with
her sister, but she would look past that to help him now that he desperately needed her,
right?
There was a knock at Funzo’s hotel door bringing him back to attention. “Who is it,
Hyuck?”
“Who do you think it is Fattie Boom-Boom?” came Bridget’s voice.
“Hold on,” Funzo replied as he cart wheeled over to the door, and opened it. “Why do you
have to make fun?” Funzo asked as Bridget walked through the door, in what appeared to
be a new and expensive outfit.
“Because you are a clown,” she smiled to him behind brand new Dolce & Gabbana
sunglasses. She poked his fat stomach for emphais making him fart. “I’ve got two events
for you tomorrow Funzo, a birthday and a car lot opening. The opening is at night so be
prepared to bring the butt fireworks, they said they’ll pay more if you light up that sky
Funzo.” She waved her hands for emphasis.
“Why do you call me that,” Funzo said as he farted from his chronic flatulence, “You know I
,der, hate that name.”
“Hey a big fat clown needs a big fat clown name. And your new name is FUNZO T.
CLOWN.”
He sat down on his bed with his usual whoopee cushion sound effects. He looked up at
Bridget and began to cry. It was a scene Bridget had seen quite a bit in the last month.
“Listen Smelly Pants, you have to move on. You are, like, the ultimate clown now. And we
need to use that to make some money so you can live. Otherwise you’re going to have to
go home and explain to your parents why they need to send you to clown college.”
“I know, I know. You’re right. Like always. I just want this whole thing to make sense.”
“Well it doesn’t, but at least you get to make others happy. That’s something.”
“I guess so.”
“Now, get some sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow. I’ll leave the addresses and times
on top of the hotel TV. I’ll come by tomorrow to get the checks.”
“Where you going,” he asked very vulnerable.
“I have a date.”
“A date,” he repeated his heart breaking.
“Yeah a date. Oh Funzo, you really didn’t think I could date a clown did you. Oh you poor
thing,” she said as she closed the door behind her beginning to laugh at the very idea.
Funzo felt all-alone in the world. He sat in his room for a long time thinking about his
past life. He missed his parents. His hotel was only a few blocks from his old house since
he had to walk there initially when he left home. Funzo eventually worked up the courage
to go back home to see if he could spy on his parents. He had to see them again.
As he walked to their house random strangers stopped him, and the clown in him felt
compelled to do tricks for them when he was asked. Finally he farted out his unicycle to
make better time. He had to see his parents before they went to bed, and it was getting
late.
When he arrived at his parent’s house he put his unicycle back in his butt by jumping up
on it landing on it forcing it into his butt, like he had become so accustomed to doing. He
then tried to sneak over to a window, but the squeaking he made as he walked made it vey
difficult. His parents were up in the living room, and he watched through the window from
the bushes. He became so focused on them that he forgot about his chronic flatulence.
His mother heard him rip an unbelievably loud fart. A fart so loud it brought Funzo back
to reality, alerted his mother to his presence causing her to scream in fright, and his father
to run out the door after the peeping clown.
Funzo’s father gave chase after him, cursing him to get back there and take his beating
like a man. His mother was in the doorway still yelling in fright. Funzo ran as fast as he
could down the cul-de-sac squeaking loudly as he did so. It was no use though. His
giant sizes 28 feet were slowing him down no matter how hard he pumped his legs, and
his father was quickly catching up. Finally Funzo had no choice and farted out his unicycle
and began to pedal away. He quickly outdistanced his father and went back to his hotel
room, feeling more alone then ever.