The Raleigh Hills Fred Meyer is cursed. The last time I went to this grocery store was on Christmas Eve and I had a headache that lasted several hours. I wrote about that unpleasant experience in the blog entry "Melancholy Christmas" and now I must chronicle yet another harrowing ordeal. The first freakish thing I noticed when I maneuvered my cart past customers through the automatic doors was the choir. They were singing what sounded like Christmas music. I ran into my friend Jazz who told me today is Fred Meyer's grand opening.
In the produce section another choir was swaying back and forth and clapping their hands. They were all dressed in black. None of them looked happy or as perky as their body language implied. Then I saw the clowns. (Cue scary violin music from Psycho.) Creepy, red-nosed, floppy-footed, rainbow-attired clowns. Three of them. I have never bagged apples so fast in my life.
I don't have a clown phobia, but they give me this kind of claustrophobic feeling, like they're invading my personal space, even if one is standing far away. If I could put a restraining order on all clowns, I would. There is something sinister about them. Once I was stuck in the Detroit Airport for ten hours during a clown convention. Another time I went to what I thought was going to be a football or baseball game, or some kind of sporting event, and the field was overrun by clowns. That may have just been an opening act, but needless to say, I left before I could even figure out what kind of game I was about to see.
In the car after my scary clown encounter, the song "Dream Weaver" came on. The beginning of the song sounds like a flock of seagulls and it helped me feel safe again. If the song had been "Send in the Clowns" or "Everybody Loves a Clown," I would have screamed.
In the produce section another choir was swaying back and forth and clapping their hands. They were all dressed in black. None of them looked happy or as perky as their body language implied. Then I saw the clowns. (Cue scary violin music from Psycho.) Creepy, red-nosed, floppy-footed, rainbow-attired clowns. Three of them. I have never bagged apples so fast in my life.
I don't have a clown phobia, but they give me this kind of claustrophobic feeling, like they're invading my personal space, even if one is standing far away. If I could put a restraining order on all clowns, I would. There is something sinister about them. Once I was stuck in the Detroit Airport for ten hours during a clown convention. Another time I went to what I thought was going to be a football or baseball game, or some kind of sporting event, and the field was overrun by clowns. That may have just been an opening act, but needless to say, I left before I could even figure out what kind of game I was about to see.
In the car after my scary clown encounter, the song "Dream Weaver" came on. The beginning of the song sounds like a flock of seagulls and it helped me feel safe again. If the song had been "Send in the Clowns" or "Everybody Loves a Clown," I would have screamed.
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