Puncho Says It's a Great Day!

It wasn’t a dark or stormy night. The setting was rather benign. Slightly before sunrise. All quiet. It was that quiet that existed as only a handful of people stirred. The house rested except for one. Russell had an early tee time that his friend hooked him up with at Brentwood Club. The day before the house was full of noise, a million kids running through the house, parents all telling each other how wonderful the other kids were, but secretly knowing that their child was more superior than the others. The Clown Puncho. It would be patronizing to say creepy clown, since within the word “clown” lies the innate attribute of creepy. He was amusing enough, gags, magic and balloons. The balloons. The man pulled out so many balloons from all over his costume. His form of latex was a balloon, it had to be. The big shiney helium balloons with his face and in big letters “PUNCHO SAYS IT’S A GREAT DAY!” or “PARTY TIME!” or “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”. Then there were the balloon animals. When does one come to the knowledge that they have the skill of the balloon beast. The creation of an animal out of air-godlike. What after one was mastered the language Klingon, has popped every pimple, and mentally consummated a relationship with every suicide girl does one feel like it is now time to tackle the craft of balloon making?

Russell, still not completely awake stumbled from the room down the hall to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, turning on the light. He closed his eyes and allowed his eyes to get accustomed to the light though his eyelids. Finally when he felt like he could open his eyes, “oh shit!” He startled. Puncho was behind him smiling in the mirror. Russell swung around and thrust his right hand into Puncho’s face. The face bobbed about making the red ribbon dance around. “Damn.” Russell said, letting a laugh escape his lungs. It had scared the hell out of him. Then again who wouldn’t get the crap scared out of them seeing a balloon laughing at them in the mirror. He grabbed the ribbon, pulling it closer, and than palmed the balloon thrusting it out of the bathroom. The act of thrusting a balloon might possibly be the most anticlimactic action. No matter how hard and with what ferocity one puts behind the thing the damn thing will not go any faster, only if meanders about bobbing and mocking the anger. Especially when it has the face of a grinning clown.

The rest of the morning routine was normal. Shower, wash and then shampoo last. Shave, brush the teeth. With the towel secured around his waste, he opened the door and exited without looking. There was Puncho right in his face. It had hung there outside the door the entire time. Russell pushed it out of his way, into the hall. The balloon floated up ward and away, with the ribbon trailing behind. As Russell turned the ribbon wrapped itself around his throat. Russell grabbed at it trying to pull it loose, but it grew tighter. He tried to puller higher up on the ribbon, to pull the balloon closer to try and build some slack in the ribbon. All he received instead was rumble and scream. He tried to back up and tripped over a Transformer toy, losing his footing the ribbon grew tighter, cutting into his skin. He scrambled, but his feet could find no purchase. He tugged and groped, but there was no relief. Only more screaming, whining, and all sorts of horrific noises. From down the hall he could hear noises as though someone was waking up. He tried to call out, but he could make no noise. There were patches of darkness in his sight. The whining was gone, he could smell something burning. He looked up and saw Puncho smiling and around him in a halo was “PUNCHO SAYS IT’S A GREAT DAY!”

Monica a lovely little number stumbled from her bed, she heard noises or at least she thought she did. “Russell?” She calls from the side of her bed where she puts on her robe. “Russell?” She calls head cocked to the side at the door. “RUSSELL!” She yells. She runs to him, dancing above his head was the balloon, all bright colors and smiles. Next to his body lay a large wooden fan blade. “Russell!” She cried over her husband’s dead body.