Coulrophobia
There is always something eerily unsettling about that white-painted face and artificial-looking, red swollen lips (did they go through injection?). As if those aren’t much enough to make him look even more stupid, a large tomato sat on the tip of his nose. A fruit on a face? I can’t believe he let himself do that to his huge face. This man must be on weed thanks to his horrendous fashion taste: oversize neon costume he dons looks more like a failed product of a toddler trying to imitate his grandmother sewing him a sweater — neon fabrics thrown together in a disorganized manner and sewn together just like that.
The worst thing about it all, he won’t hesitate to approach you. His eyes are about to pop from his sockets. Even though you show signs of rejection, begging at your finest, or you did the best you could to turn him away, you are practically just wasting your energy. When he actually aims at putting your frown away, all he does is make that frown turn into a cry. The moment he is right at your face, that is when the nightmare unfolds: his ugly smile stretches from ear to ear to what you think he is about to rip his hideous swollen lips open. Then, this creature freaking speaks:
“Hello dear, how are you?”
His voice rises up and down, but he sounds as if he is forced to produce that voice; as if there is a restraint low pervert voice hidden somewhere in his vocal cords. You can feel his hidden vocal cords saying the otherwise, in a heavy, coarse voice:
“Oh, you delicious-looking little beings! I will chop your arms off, tear you apart, and eat you up!”
“GET THE FUCK OFF!” If you understood curse words when you were five, you would probably say so.
You stare at him in horror, but all a five-year-old can only do is breaking into cries — those devastating ones that will only be drowned in the sound of his, again, forced laughter. This man must be the god of nightmares in disguise. The next scenario would involve the man opening his huge mouth and revealing his dirty fangs before ripping you apart a la Stephen King’s Pennywise. However, if you are lucky enough, you will probably have your mom lift you up in her arms and she will mutter an apology to the man — a sympathy for he has failed his job. You thank your mom for saving you from your ultimate nightmare.
When your mom decides to stop by at McDonald’s on your way home, you catch a glimpse of Ronald up on the menu. His small eyes widen to a great extent; his mouth forming words only you can hear.
“I can’t wait to taste that little body of yours!”
