Inanimate Clowns: Scary as Hell

I’m not afraid of much. The typical creepy crawlies never fazed me and I’m always the one racing to the top to see what heights I can conquer. Global warming, strangely alive toupees, and bees (they’re the implement of my death) do get me quaking. But most of all: I HATE inanimate clowns. They're also no. 1 on my "Top 10 gifts to send your child screaming to psych appointments" list.

I’m a product of the 80s and watching Poltergeist ruined me for clown-related glee. Sure, I can take slapstick, red-nose wearing clowns any day. Because I know I can always kick them in the shins and run like heck if they start going all Tim Curry in IT. “They all float down here.” EEE!

It’s those creepy, glass-eyed, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep ones that get me. My own childhood clown took a few trips to the hall closet during the night before my parents got rid of it.

So imagine my horror when a friend sent me this link to a blog with an “unintentionally creepy clown” that's also pictured here.  Now, if that had been in the subject line I never would have clicked it. But this sadistic lady phrased it as, “Something for the New Baby's Room.” Seriously, what is wrong with toy makers? I'm sure, and desperately hope, the knife was inserted later.

Just close your eyes and drift off. Nothing to fear here.

I’ve since admonished said friend while she laughed gleefully, and told her I would tell this cautionary tale here. I did promise to keep her anonymous for fear of retribution in the form of more nightmare-inducing finds.

Just let this be a lesson to all who want to buy me new baby gifts. Creep-erific clowns and anything that inspires childhood trauma will instantly be re-gifted, and you will have to pay my or my child’s psychiatric bill. Oh, and sorry, Tim Curry. I really do love you, but if you come near me in any form of cake paint, I’ll strike first and ask questions later.