Childhood Terrors (Works by Edward Hopper)

          “A party,” he mused, ‘party’ coming out more like pah-tay. “What’ll I have to do?”

          The man seating across from him did a sort of half -shrug, one shoulder rising quickly before falling. He studied the person over the table, taking in his red make-up, the overly bald head, and border line chubby body. He definitely did not fit the role he was looking for, but on such short notice, this man would work.

          “Show up,” he stated, rather bored. “Play with the brats. I don’t really care. I need a clown.”

          Said clown narrowed his eyes. On one hand, he needed the money. Cash was tight, rent was due, and he could not seem to kick this God awful habit to the drug of the month. The couple staring at him looked like they had money; they were dressed fancy, fancier than he ever hoped to be, and the woman had a heart shaped pendant hanging from her neck, cut from what looked like diamond.

          “Sure,” he drawled as he tapped the corner of his mouth. “You have yourself a deal.” Except, the end of his ‘you’s had a slur to it, almost as if it ended in an ‘s’.

          The man held out a hand. Just before the clown took it, it was pulled back slightly. “No drugs,” he said. The clown just smirked.