Detective Brown - an older, more distinguished-looking man - stood in the interview room with his partner, a younger detective with thinning red hair. Seated at the table before them was a bald man in a dingy tank-top.
The bald man looked up at the two detectives, his palms face down on the table. "I saw the guy standing there and I didn't want to stop."
Brown referred to his notes. "You said he was wearing some kinda clown outfit?"
"Well, no. Yes -- well, sort of."
"What do you mean, 'sort of'?"
"Well it was the clown costume, from the waist up."
The two men in suits looked at each other. Brown spoke."What was he wearing from the waist down?"
"Nothing."
"You mean to tell us you stopped to pick up a strange hitchhiker in the middle of nowhere -"
"- At night," interjected the younger man.
"- At night, who wasn't wearing anything below the waist?"
"I told her it wasn't a good idea."
The men sighed. Detective Brown gathered himself and continued. "Then what happened?"
"Well, he got in, we drove off and a few minutes later, I saw the knife."
"He pulled out a knife."
"Uh huh."
Again, the two men looked at each other with curious expressions. "From where?" asked the younger detective.
"I don't know. It came outta nowhere."
"And that's when you stopped the car.".
"Uh huh. I slammed on the brakes and got the hell outta there fast I could."
"Leaving your wife inside the car."
"I figured she'd do the same thing."
"But then the car drove off," Brown stated.
"Uh huh."
"And you've not heard from her since?"
"Well, I did get this in the mail a couple days ago."
The detective took it. It was a lapel flower. While the two men looked it over, the younger detective reached over and squeezed the connected bulb. Water shot from the flower hitting Brown squarely in the eye. He glared at his younger associate, who looked away sheepishly.
Brown turned back to the bald-headed man. "What do you think this means? Is he taunting us with this?"
"Who, the clown?" The man shook his head.
"Why do you say that?"
He pointed at the flower in the detective's hands. "That belonged to my wife. I gave her that on our wedding night."
My name is Richard Garrison and I write about writing, screenplays, and converting screenplays to novels. Proudly repped by Jackson Starr, of STARRPOWER TALENT AGENCY. I also write about existence and the nature of the Universe. Check out my script listing on Script Revolution. Please visit The Last Of Us Novel to read in its entirety.
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Saturday, June 9, 2012
Send in the Clowns
I grew up in Plano, Texas. Entered the US Army when I was seventeen, right out of high school. I worked in a factory for six years building communication shelters for the military. Did a brief stint as a flight attendant for TWA. Worked for a bank a few years.
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