Clowns part 2

“So you want to build a website, Mr. Kansas, about clowns?”

The 20-year-old Dial a Geek worker stood in Harvey’s doorway. The sunlight exposed the acne on the man’s left cheek.

“Yes,” said Kansas. The door was only partially opened. It blocked a Mossberg 500 pump-action shotgun held in Harvey’s right arm. He surveyed the boy and relaxed.

“Come in then. Don’t stand idle.”

The boy stepped into the home. “We’re offering a hosting and domain name special…” He stopped talking when he noticed the shotgun. Kansas placed it on the foyer table.

Kansas saw the boy’s eyes. “You could have been a clown.”

“You would have shot me?”

“That’s the shotgun’s function, yes.”

“Me?”

“If you were a clown.”

The boy seemed perplexed.

Kansas said, “How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“It ain’t unheard of but you’re probably safe from clowns. They prefer boys between the ages of 8 and 14. And occasionally girls.”

“Our package price is 29.99 a month, which I think you’ll find competitive.” The boy’s voice sounded unsteady.

“That’s reasonable,” agreed Kansas.

The boy looked down at a clipboard. “My notes say you want the website to have a hand grabbing at you.”

“A clown hand,” said Kansas. “Scooping you up like ice cream.”

“We could do that,” said the man. He was perking up. Enthusiastic. “We could do a splash page, where the hand comes forward, right at you.”

“It’s a different anatomy.”

The boy raised his eyebrows.

“The clown hand,” explained Kansas. “The fingers are of varying lengths. It’s why they wear white gloves.”

“Our designer can definitely do a misshapen hand. We can do it in Flash.”

Kansas nodded. “Sure. Make it flashy. I dislike anyone who wears gloves for that reason.”

“Did you have a domain name picked out? I’m assuming it would have the word ‘clowns’ in it?”

“I make a point of looking at a person’s hands and feet,” said Kansas. “Clowns don’t take care of their feet. They have bunions and dead skin and calluses and ingrown nails. Their skin is milky pale. Unnatural. That’s why they wear big shoes, on account of comfort.”

Harvey stopped talking. His eyes focused on a vehicle slowing in front of his house. A courier. He picked up his shotgun and pulled the boy aside, out of his line of sight.

The car stopped. A moment later a courier walked toward them holding a box.

Kansas leveled the shotgun. The courier was almost at the front door. His eyes went wide. He dropped the box at Harvey’s feet and sprinted back to the car.

“Get back!” shouted Kansas. He ripped open the box with his hand. “Could be anthrax or an incendiary device!”

The Dial a Geek employee jumped behind a lamp.

“Cheeses Christ,” said Kansas. “I said Cheeses!”

“What?” asked the twenty-year-old. “What is it?”

Harvey Kansas turned toward the boy and held out a human arm.

“A hand,” said Kansas. “Severed at the elbow.”

The boy’s face did a hiccup.

“I know whose it is too,” said Kansas. “Rip Waychild. He worked for me once. Then the clowns got him. This is their message to me. This is the fourth package.”

“It’s an arm,” said the employee. He vomited a little into the plant.

“Them clowns are dismembering him piece by piece and sending me the parts.”

Harvey Kansas stared at his friend’s arm. “We’ll put that on the website too.”