I Have Seen Satan, and He Wears Floppy Shoes (916 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jo of the Golden P <lindserella.at.gmail.com> (View user info) at 2005-03-19 02:21:17 EST
I mentioned in an earlier post that I have been coerced into performing as a clown. I was told that this would be for a group of small children. LIES! A word of advice, friends; Never believe anything a man with a puffy green wig tells you.
In actuality, I had apparently agreed to humiliate myself in front of not children, but lovable oldsters at a local retirement home. And by "lovable," I of course mean "smelling of creamed corn." And by "retirement home," I mean "Living Dead Containment Facility."
There was a group of about eight of us, stunningly decked out in the most hideous shades of orange, green and purple I have ever had the misfortune to cast my gaze upon. With the exception of two or three church-group types who were really gung-ho about the whole endeavor, all of us were less than thrilled at having been tricked into parading around in whiteface for the Depends crowd.
We filed into a cafeteria/sunroom setup and lined up facing our audience. They stared at us. We stared at them. After a good five minutes of awkward silence, the heat started making my clown makeup run and I suggested we sing a song. Minimal effort and guaranteed to eat up at least a few minutes of our time. The only songs we all knew the words to were "You Are My Sunshine" and "Nearer My God to Thee". After three (yes, three) rousing renditions of each song, The Man With The Green Wig, alias Satan in Floppy Shoes, announced loudly that the group would now come around the room to shake hands and introduce ourselves.
As I gazed at fifty sets of clammy, frequently wet-looking hands, I suddenly understood why we had painted large smiles on our faces that obscured our own mouths. I hung back, trying to stay below Satan's radar, and for my efforts received a hard shove directly into the midst of the hubbub.
I found myself facing a gentleman of about 250 years of age. He looked at me and approximated what I believe was a nostalgic smile, my presence surely reminding him of the joys of youth: Running, bike-riding, independent breathing. I hesitantly extended my hand, noticing Satan glaring pointedly at me.
Mr. Nostalgia grabbed my hand with an astounding grip I would never have expected from such palsied limbs. After a brief, polite squeeze I tried to pull my hand away. Nope. I pulled harder, on the verge of panic. I yanked my hand as hard as I could, and still the decrepit human vice held fast.
"Aaaaauuugghh! RUN! He's trying to pull you down to the underworld with him!" my brain screamed desperately. I looked around frantically for an aide, a fellow clown, a crowbar, *anything*.
"Oh, Mr. Johannsen, have you fallen asleep again?" an aide chirped as she approached us. I looked at my captor's face and his eyes were indeed closed, but I guessed it was more likely that he had died and entered rigor mortis, given the strength of his grip.
"Sometimes when these guys fall asleep, their limbs become rigid," the aide reassured me, doing some martial arts/massage maneuver with Mr. Johannsen's hand, freeing me and becoming my hero in the process. I stalked up to Satan and informed him that I was done shaking hands. One terrifying exchange with a cabbage-scented man was enough to last me a lifetime, thank you very much.
I sat in the lobby, looking as cool as I could manage in streaky whiteface and orange-striped coveralls that belonged to Jared before his Subway days. A half-hour later, the others came out. On the way to the parking lot, another clown whipped a snowball at Satan, pegging him in the back of the head. Not surprisingly, that first snowball was quickly followed by seven more, each landing its target with a satisfying THWACK!
we have much to fear.
User Reviews
Submitted by hobbs (user info) at 2005-03-29 06:51:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Thank you.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-03-24 15:52:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
your stuff always kicks ass
Submitted by Wazza (user info) at 2005-03-19 05:27:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"Living Dead Containment Facility." you are not wrong. Those are the places that reduce people to a substanded of life.
I believe the Asian populace has it right they look after ther old at home ,but in our world, we send them to the dog boxes.. very sad.
Submitted by mrwolf (user info) at 2005-03-19 05:21:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wicked
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-03-19 05:15:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
One last thing...
Satan wears cowboy boots.
Just so you know.
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2005-03-19 04:57:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jo_of_the_golden_P (user info) at 2005-03-19 02:44:21 (#)
Ranking: 0
Believe it or not, I fucking know that.
Maybe it's disrespectful, and maybe it crosses a few lines, but this is my way of dealing with stuff. If I can't face it, I make fun of it. I know a lot of people here and in real life who do the same thing.
I visit my great-grandfather and I love him, but it freaks me out. I'm afraid of death and feeble old age. If I make fun of old people, it puts a barrier between "me" and "them"
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How very Freudian. Is that even a word? Whatever.
Snaps for me for putting something I learnt in a seemingly useless course to use! Yes!
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-03-19 04:39:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I miss my dad
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-03-19 04:12:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
My father has Multiple Schlerosis. He's been dying from it for about 25 years now.
He is in a home... well a place in the hospital in Prince George that is as close to a home as you can get.
I go there when I can... which is to say not nearly enough... and pathetically less than I should.
I make jokes about the old folks when I finish a visit. It helps to lessen the despair that sits over the place like a thick fog. It helps to dampen the realisation that I will probably be somewhere similar myself one day.
Find humour where you need it Jo. I know my father does. I go there to visit and we make fun of the invalids around him. It's his release and my mine as well.
Every trip I make to see him is rewarding and horrifying in its own right.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-03-19 02:47:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Joemama (user info) at 2005-03-19 02:35:27 (#)
Ranking: -2
"they", were at one time,
little girls and boys.
I can only hope that you never reach half their age.
Enjoy
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Are you kidding? This wasn't disrespectful, it was hilarious.
Submitted by Jo_of_the_golden_P (user info) at 2005-03-19 02:44:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Believe it or not, I fucking know that.
Maybe it's disrespectful, and maybe it crosses a few lines, but this is my way of dealing with stuff. If I can't face it, I make fun of it. I know a lot of people here and in real life who do the same thing.
I visit my great-grandfather and I love him, but it freaks me out. I'm afraid of death and feeble old age. If I make fun of old people, it puts a barrier between "me" and "them"
Submitted by Joemama (user info) at 2005-03-19 02:35:27 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
"they", were at one time,
little girls and boys.
I can only hope that you never reach half their age.
Enjoy