Jo-Jo
by
Simon Collinson
“Do it again Jo-Jo, do it again!”
The crowd was always appreciative and begged for more. They’d always had been since Jo-Jo had entertained for Alister’s sixth birthday party.
Jo-Jo knew all the clownish skills. He’d been performing them for forty years. Juggling, blowing balloons- always giraffes, making ropes and falling over.
But now his bones hurt and ached with arthritis.The costume was faded and infused with the aroma of sweat and urine.His make up cracked and rilled with tears.
Jo-Jo wondered when he would hang up his straggly bright orange wig.
Silly Jo-Jo, he thought, Alister would never allow that.
That’s why Alister had kidnapped Jo-Jo and imprisoned him to entertain him forever and ever. Forced to wear that costume and make up, forced to repeat the party tricks over and over again.
Jo-Jo staggered to pick up the balls and stared up at the ceiling. It was always raining in Jo-Jo’s mind, for the rain it raineth everyday in Jo-Jo’s world.“
Do it again Jo-Jo, Do it again!
Bio:
Simon Collinson is a writer from England. He seeks stillness, solitude, shade and shadow.
CLOWN TIME IS OVER BY PAUL D. BRAZILL
Clown Time is Over
by
Paul D. Brazill
Johnny strides through the snow-smothered cemetery with a bravado that only the hopelessly overconfident ever have, his long raincoat flapping in the wind behind him. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell sounds, and a murder of crows slice through the migraine-white winter morning.
His brother Raynard suddenly feels drained. It isn’t the cold weather, or the hangover that are to blame, although they hardly help matters. It’s all down to Johnny and his incessant jabbering.
Raynard regularly tolerates Johnny’s soliloquies of shite when they’re boozing it up in some down-and-out pub or other, nodding his head obsequiously, but out there in the cold light of daybreak it’s like wading through molasses.
Johnny is like a perpetual motion machine, and once he gets going on a topic, absolutely nothing can shut him up. He seems to be able to fuel his own fire of drivel.
Johnny stops. He turns and points a bony finger at Raynard, swaying a little. ‘So, what have you got to say for yourself?’ says Johnny. Raynard stops walking. He opens his mouth to speak, catches his breath and pulls out his Glock, shooting Johnny in the head.
Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best.
Bio:
Paul D. Brazill is from Hartlepool, England. His Substack is: Paul Brazill’s
Cornucopia | Paul David Brazill | Substack
THE CLOWN INSIDE HER BY IRV O. NEIL
The Clown Inside Her
by
Irv O. Neil
She hated clowns. When her family moved to a new apartment when she was five, there was a plastic clown face light switch in the bedroom she shared with her baby sister. She told their daddy that she was afraid of the clown and had nightmares about it, but he never changed the switch.
Later when she was grown up and her husband Ben played around so much behind her back, she decided to get even. She wanted to scare him so she took a big knife from the kitchen.
She still hated clowns so she made up her face like one with a Halloween kit from Walgreen’s and then went into the bathroom where he was showering off from one of his whores.
Later she told the police, with a smile under the makeup, how horrible for a clown face to be the last thing a person ever sees…
Bio:
Irv O. Neil is a longtime freelance writer and magazine editor. His neo-noir novel Fate of a Stripper is available as a Kindle ebook on Amazon.
Excellent start to the series.
This series definitely has a strong "It" factor!