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"Tu ra lu ra tu ra lu ra ay. Aheh heh eh."
The Clown flashes the old button pinned into his coat, plastic all worn away, dull scratches in the metal, rusted edges. Little bells jingle as he moves his head. Jingle, jingle, jangle.
"The sky has gone dark since those times long ago, hasn't it, little fellows? Not a soul to remember, but—" left hand raised, he taps his temple with an extended pinky— "I remember. I have the visions. A house full of locked doors but no windows, and thousands of them, more doors than you can walk through, out into corridors that go on and on and on and on. There is always strife within the ranks, you see, as people try to build the keys. Bickering over what I hope will be a long and winding road as we explore the world I have initiated."
A pause. The voice shift provokes some unease among the assembled youth. A cross-armed punk with a bad-scrambler face-job flips off the Clown, sneering.
"Blow yr self out, you old cunt! Telling that shitty old story again!"
"Little Beast, let us depart you."
A pause. The heavy glove spread over the mouth of that awful mask. A jolly jig, a faux bow as to princely royalty, but no! instead a solid kick to the head! The nay-saying boy tumbles backward, bloodied, dazed. The other children quickly fall in.
"Hum! I lied! Never trust a man in a mask! No, no, I never initiated the world. I was initiated into the world. My lover, my darling Amelia, she sang the song that ended the world. It was a stupid old song for a stupid old world, but she was beautiful, ripe. How I miss her."
"Tell us about her!" calls out a young girl with a bandaged left eye and worn purple dress.
"She was foolish, as you are—" the children laugh— "The mind of an ape in the lithe frame of a girl. She wore a crown, half-silver, half-gold, common to all her kind. Stupid men thought it would make her free to be so rich with her crown, and they taught her words that she did not understand. They did not know that mutiny is defeat."
The children make noises at this last suggestion, but all fall back to silent attention as the Clown holds up a finger to his rubbery lips.
"They disappeared, disintegrated, was never heard from again, but not before He the Mystery did turn their key, unlock their door. He came from the same frequency in another place, you understand. The same apart."
The howling hum of orbital elevators sounds from the distance.
"Have you been to the Ascended Cities?" a small boy asks, voicing the fragile attention of the assembled, now reshifted to that unknown place.
"Neither above, neither below. The narrator is only where they stand as the story is told."
"I been above and below!" shoots back the bloodied punk, nursing his bruised face. "Same shit all over, man!"
"You speak a kind of truth, Little Beast 666," the Clown answers, forefinger and thumb forming a circle, remaining fingers curled, circle over the right eye, circle over the forehead, circle over the left eye.
The punk smirks as the other children look at him, sore jaw sticking out just so.
"So far as lies are true, and they are, yes. Same shit all over, indeed! You will always be full of shit so far as we are concerned!"
Snickering and giggles raise up as the Clown holds his ass cheeks, squatting and shuffling as to mime a bad case of diarrhea, throwing out a handful of feathers to conclude the act.
"Wasn't that a relief? But look, the shadow hangs over us all. Inescapable shadow! If not here, over you, another angle! Aaaa, this world, this life, this all is all and all I see, and seeing eyes with all the skies, I am satellites and free."
"Yr a fucking nutter!" the punk jeers on, making a wanking motion.
"Indeed. Where was I? What is the frequency? Hm, hm, hm."
"You were going to talk about He the Mystery," answers the girl with bandaged eye.
"Never would I. How would I explain the mystery without first pointing you toward understanding? Once you know the world he saw outside the unlocked door, you will know the mystery. Io, io, six by five, and them that come after. More cuts than you can count!"
The children begin losing their interest in the Clown's nonsense, rising to disperse and find other pursuits.
"One last trick for you, little fellows!"
A few eyes turn back as the Clown draws a pellet from his yellow belt, raises it up between two fingers, and breaks it in a snapping motion. Green smoke! A toxick smoke that spreads so quickly, filling all the air! A sickening smoke, making all exposed choke, and throw up, collapse! Green smoke! Agony!
Peals of laughter echo, vicious and joyful.
