Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Clownface

Clownface
Mark A Davis
273

Beneath a mercilessly hot sun, Professor Emily Wilfreda Wolcott lead Grandpa Anarchy and his current sidekick Boy Skeptic through a dusty hillside dig.  The professor wore dune-colored shorts and a similar-colored work shirt, with sturdy hiking boots.  Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.  Grandpa Anarchy wore his usual rumpled gray suit with the silver anarchy symbol stitched over the left breast.  His sidekick was a portly young boy who wore jean shorts, boots, and a white tee shirt with the phrase "I doubt skeptics exist" on the front.

"We discovered this site a year and a half ago," Professor Wolcott said.  "My great grandfather Professor Wilfred Eustace Wolcott searched many years for such a site.  He wanted to prove his theory that such a civilization existed in ancient times -- and to silence his critics, who ridiculed him for his beliefs.   His protégé Professor William Bradfort likewise invested many years searching for proof of a Kalownian civilization, but like my great grandfather he was mocked and could never find a thing.

"I'm just thrilled that, at last, I can provide proof that both of them were right!"

"I'm always willing to help out science," Grandpa Anarchy replied.  "You know me -- I've seen many things that your typical scientist would deny is true.  Keep an open mind, that's my motto."

"But demand hard facts and evidence-based research," added Boy Skeptic.

"Now, that's just crazy talk," said Grandpa Anarchy.  "Let me give you a piece of advice:  if an elder god tries to suck out your soul, what you don't do is demand proof of his existence before you react.  AmIright?"

"Luckily," said the professor, "all the proof I need lies within this very chamber."  She paused before a square opening into the side of a hill.   "I'm glad you agreed to join me, Grandpa Anarchy," she said.  "There are many legends about the ancient Kalownian kings and the magic they wielded.  While I do not believe these tales myself, one can never be too careful.  Also, having a hero as famous as Grandpa Anarchy present reassures the locals.  For that reason I have put off opening the sarcophagus within the chamber until you were present."

She ducked through the opening.  Grandpa and Boy Skeptic followed.

The air within was stifling, and smelled of the dust of years.  Illuminated by several high-powered electrical lamps, they saw a large, dusty stone chamber.  The walls were covered with a strange script, and there were faded paintings in the center of three walls depicting angular humans with large, round noses.  Broken clay pots littered the floor, and there were some unusual objects too -- strange stone carvings, objects of wood, and small statues of bronze and gold.  In one corner was an object that appeared to be a small three-wheeled horse, about the right size for a child.  The wood was cracked and split, as were the wheels.

Two things, however, drew the the attention.  against the far wall were two large, pear-shaped stone statues.  They had been painted at one time, and you could just barely see that the faces had been white, and the round noses had been red.  Between these two statues was the sarcophagus:  an oblong square of stone, with a lid into which had been carved the upper half of another rotund individual with a round nose, much like the two statues.

Above the sarcophagus, carved into the stone, was a familiar pair of faces -- the smiling and frowning masks meant to represent comedy and  tragedy.

Grandpa's sidekick stared at the two statues, and said, "What."

"As you can clearly see," said the professor, "this room is everything I could have ever hoped for:  proof that the Kalownian Empire was not just a figment of my great grandfather's imagination.  Here lies the tomb of one of the great kings of the Kalownian Dynasty!"

"Kalownian Dynasty?" the sidekick repeated.  "I've never heard of...."  He paused, then said, "Wait.  Kalownian -- Clownian?"  His eyes grew wide.  "Are you seriously trying to tell me that this is the tomb of an ancient Clown king from a Clown dynasty?"

"Indeed, that is exactly what I'm saying," replied the professor.  She picked up a strange wooden object.  It was about a foot and a half long, with a bird's head on one side and thin legs sticking out of the other.  "Do you recognize what this is?" she asked.  "It's a sacred object in their religion -- a rubber chicken!"

Boy Skeptic stared in disbelief.  "It's... wooden," he said.

"Well naturally they didn't have rubber in those days," the professor replied.  "They were forced to use what materials were available to them.  This rubber chicken is carved from cedar from the coast of Lebanon."

Kid Skeptic's eyes narrowed.  "Pull the other one -- it's got bells on it," he said.

"By Boffo!" exclaimed Professor Wolcott.  "I had no idea that you could read Kalownian A Script!"

"I... what now?" asked the sidekick.

"Kalownian A Script!" the professor repeated.  She gestured to the walls.  "Everything you see here!  It's an ancient Kalownian script based on syllabic glyphs, unrelated to Egyptian or Anatolian or even Cretan hieroglyphs."  She took two quick steps and ran her hands over one section of the wall.  "This part of the inscription," she said, "details the great Kalown King Bofforma III's interactions with king Murfa of Burumashav, a Hattian tribe that the Kalownians later conquered.  The king Murfa says that he will not submit to Kalownian rule, and here, see, the king replies:  How is it that you defy my will when it is clear that my armies are so vast and so mighty, and wait for me to give the order to smite your people?  It is foolishness!  I must beg of you to yank on my other leg, for that one is ringed with chiming bells."

Boy Skeptic spun about.  "Okay," he said.  "This has to be some elaborate joke at my expense.  Where's the candid cameras?"

"It's no joke," said the professor.  "Between 2300 BC and 2000 BC, at a time when the Minoan civilization was flourishing on Crete and the Akkadian Empire ruled the fertile crescent, the Kalownians carved out a small empire in the heart of Asia Minor.  Their mighty Kalownian warriors were a sight to behold!  With white faces, red noses, and squeaky shoes...."

"No," said the sidekick.  "No.  Don't.  I refuse to believe that an ancient Clown Empire ever existed.  What's next?  Are you going to tell me that giant 60-ton clowns ruled the Jurassic Period?"

"Of course not," said Professor Wolcott, frowning.  "But look around you.  Do you think all of this is a hoax?  On this site an entire city once stood -- we've barely excavated a fraction of it!  People think that coulrophobia -- the fear of clowns -- is a modern invention.  I'm here to say such fears may well date back thousands of years to a time when ruthless clown armies spread fear across the peninsula of Asia Minor.

"Experts will tell you that the idea of a clown developed out of the rustic fool characters of ancient Greek and Roman theater.  What they don't realize is that these buffoonish characters were themselves based on the ancient enemies that the Macedonians dimly recalled from their prehistory -- the clown warriors of the Kalownian Dynasty."

"No.  No.  No," said Boy Skeptic.  "I'm not buying it.  Look, stop trying to convince me.  Let's just do what we came here to do and get this over with, okay?"

"Of course," said the professor after a moment.  She called outside.  Several powerful men entered the chamber, which was suddenly crowded.

"I just want you two to stand to one side, while we lift the lid of the sarcophagus," she said.  "It will reassure the workers.  If anything does happen, then I guess you'll know what to do."

Grandpa Anarchy and Kid Skeptic did as instructed.  Four men lifted the heavy stone lid and carefully set it aside.  Within lay a partial skeleton.  It appeared to have once been dressed in what was probably fine clothing, but which had mostly rotted away with the passage of time.  Here also were other objects, including another of the wooden chickens.

Covering the face of the skeleton was a golden mask:  that of a jolly, fat-cheeked clown with a round, bulbous nose.

"The Mask of the Great King Bofforma III!" the professor exclaimed.

Boy Skeptic blinked in surprise.  "It looks... real," he said.  He reached in and picked it up.

"Don't touch it!" the professor exclaimed.  But it was too late.  Boy Skeptic had already placed the mask over his face.  In the next instant, air began to swirl about the room.  Shadows pooled in the corners.  Boy Skeptic began to shake as energy crackled about him.  One by one, the electric lamps exploded, leaving the room much darker, lit only by the light that filtered in from the entrance.

Suddenly the room was filled with the scent of coconut and banana creme.  Boy Skeptic was expanding, growing taller and wider.  His clothing was expanding too -- shoes growing into giant red sandals; hands sporting oversized gloves;  shirt becoming a long, flowing robe of white trimmed with gold and with red puffball buttons down the front.  Red light glowed from the mask's eye sockets.  He emitted a ho ho ho! in a voice that was deep and unearthly, and nothing like his own.

By now the air in the room was like a mini hurricane.  "Get out!" Grandpa Anarchy yelled.  He shoved one man towards the door, then grabbed the professor and pulled her outside into the bright sun.  Moments later, with all four men joining them, they watched the doorway into the hillside as lightning flashed within the chamber and thunder rolled.  Then all noise and flashing ceased.  For a moment there was silence, then a deep, booming laughter could be heard from within.

"At last!" the voice called out, sounding like a demonic muppet.  "I, Bofforma the Great, live again!"

"Well," said Grandpa Anarchy, "this was entirely predictable."

The professor's eyes widened.  "You knew this was going to happen?" she asked.  "Then why didn't you stop him?"

"Couldn't," Grandpa replied.  "Article 17  of the Standard Superhero Sidekick Contract, and I quote:  The right of any sidekick to be possessed or otherwise gain access to cosmic power, whether by possession of object or artifact of great power (viz:  crystal or gem of power; magical ring, earrings, pendants, bracelets, anklets, armbands, nose rings, belly chains, nipple rings, or other jewelry or adornments; statues or carven images; magical books or pages from magical books; bones; rune-covered swords, daggers, knives, bows, slings, and all manner of magical weaponry; scepters, wands, staves, walking sticks, sonic screwdrivers, hand-held phones, and all manner of other hand-held devices; or any other object or device or item of a magical, supernatural, or otherworldly nature), or by direct or indirect connection to mythical or otherworldly entities, including gods, demigods, demons, devils, fey and fairy folk, ghosts, ghasts, all manner of undead, alien entities, discorporal beings, immortals, or mortals with the ability to possess others, shall not be infringed."

He cracked his knuckles, grinned, and added, "Besides, it's only after they're possessed that the fun begins...."

FINI

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