The Laughing (1)
Zachary Taylor

 

Part 1:
The Adventures
of
Fortunato









“The Clown is a personification of the conscience.”


I

Fortunato walked out of his silent, run-down bungalow to his black mailbox facing the dark, secluded street. The grass Fortunato walked through was brown and decaying, smelling of rabbit and deer feces, brittle from dehydration. The sky was dark and empty, not a white, twinkling star to be seen. A slight breeze blew passed Fortunato, but he was still affected by the humid summer evening. He looked out passed his mailbox, just above the horizon of the expansive soybean field, and he saw the aurora borealis as it twisted and changed color, but that didn’t boost his melancholy spirit.
Fortunato lived alone, and he was desperate to find something exciting to do. Nearly every day he would ride the railcars on the train tracks that led into Smile Town. He did this often, even late into the early-morning hours. He found fascination on the tracks, and the conductor even gave him a job as the electrical technician (he would have to fix the railroad lights if they shorted out). He even filled the furnaces to the conductor’s train with coal. Those jobs gave Fortunato some decent money. However, the conductor banned him from visiting his paradise, the railroad, for paying and seducing the “bag ladies.”
Fortunato’s attire reflected his melancholy mood and feelings: he wore a torn, dark suit, with a matching coat, all battered and worn with uneven stitching, the holes patched together with felt. He wore a dark derby on his head, which was dusty and faded. His shoes were polished and clean, despite the “toe area” missing on his right shoe. His brown socks had large holes in them. His pants, like his coat, were patched with material. Flies were circling his head. His beard, covering his whole chin and running up his face to join his sideburns, was caked with coffee and cigar ash. His face was sunburned, which was already showing signs of peeling. His nose, which was round, small, and ruddy, looked sore and painful. His face had deposits of soot, as well as his brown gloves, even around his baggy, tired eyes. White makeup surrounded his lips and mouth. Jutting out from his teeth was the butt of a cigar. His mouth was shaped into a frown, as well as his eyebrows.
He shuffled his way to his mailbox, sighing and grunting, fatigue spreading throughout his entire body. He was sleeping on his old, worn cot, springs popping up in all directions, when he heard the horns of the mail truck blaze through his snoring.
Why the mail truck would come this late, I don’t know, he thought to himself.
Fortunato flipped open the lid, placing his gloved hand inside, pulling out a brown-paper package. It was small and square, and it felt heavy in his hands. Pink and green ribbons were wrapped around the box. In the upper-left corner, Fortunato saw a stamped insignia, possibly from the sender: “Smile Town’s Items you can’t possibly Live Without–where our products are guaranteed to make you laugh your pants off!” Fortunato shook the package vigorously; something rattled inside. He plopped down in a small patch of grass in front of the mailbox, and he ripped open the package.
The parcel was another small box, decorated with rainbow swirls and a ghostly white face, which bore a wide smile, painted on the side facing Fortunato. A small crank handle jutted out from the left side. Fortunato, dazed and confused, decided to turn the handle. “Hopefully cash will pour out. Hell, with my luck, it probably will be graffiti or a pie.”
As he turned the handle, reluctantly, in a counter-clockwise fashion, music clicked on, which Fortunato recognized. As he turned the handle even more, he recited some of the words to the happy tune:


“All around the mulberry bush,
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought ’twas all in fun.
Pop! goes the weasel.

“Up and down the city road,
In and out of the eagle,
That’s the way the money goes.
Pop! goes the weasel.”

As soon as Fortunato stopped singing, an object quickly popped out of the box, giving Fortunato a scare. The object was a stuffed howler monkey, wrapped tightly in a white, linen rope, holding a triangular flag which read “HELP!” in bright green letters. The monkey’s expression of sadness and sorrow left Fortunato silent and angry. Who could have done such a thing to a poor, helpless, stuffed monkey? Fortunato gently set the toy beside the mailbox. He yawned and stretched, scratching under his arms. As he began to walk away, toward his bungalow (which, in reality, looked like an Asian house in the horizon), a “voice” coming from the hostage monkey spoke to Fortunato:
“Fortunato, I know you don’t know who I am, but what you see before you is a stuffed howler monkey, which is being held hostage by the company stationed in Smile Town. Isn’t it hilarious?” The voice begins to laugh hysterically, sounding ghostly and creepy. “Anyway, I sent you this disturbing gift because you are the Chosen One! They have chosen you as their master. They are waiting for you in the subway. They are chasing away innocent lives! And I’m losing money! Go, and rid our town of the infestation. If you don’t, they’ll wage war on your city! This message was recorded by Ignacio Garibaldi (Alice, shut up! Leave me alone!). Thank you for purchasing one of our fabulous products! We hope you—(No, Alice! That’s a bomb, not an alarm clock! ALICE!!!! GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!!!!)”
Fortunato, in a fit of rage, threw the toy in the empty soybean field.

II

Fortunato lay wide awake in his torn cot, staring at the white ceiling, smoking on a new cigar. A circulating fan kept him cool from the torturous humidity. He did not wear a shirt to bed, but he did wear his black pants and overalls, his coat and shirt hanging on a standing rack. His dirty hat still kept his ruffled, dandruff-infested hair from view. The room smelled of cigar smoke and tar. His room was small, the four walls perfectly perpendicular. They were colored a dark purple. His room was completely empty; it was just his cot up against the wall adjacent to the door, the fan, the standing rack, and a window directly opposite him, from which he could still see the aurora borealis. Fortunato couldn’t fall asleep. He lay there, silent, trying to put together the pieces to the strange puzzle. He scratched his hairy chest, and sighed.
Was it a living nightmare? Fortunato was still utterly confused. He took his hat off, and scratched his itchy head. He placed his hat back on, and then blew a puff of black smoke. Master? He was considered a master by mysterious relations in Smile Town? Maybe this would be that adventure Fortunato so desperately longed to experience! Tomorrow, he would set off on this great adventure. If he didn’t go, Frown City would be in ruins....at least he thought so.
Smile Town was an odd place, full of crazy, weird activities and total chaos. The residents of Frown City, including the desperate Fortunato, dread going there. It was rumored whoever ventured deep into the heart of Smile Town rarely returned. Those who did had frightening tales to tell. Fortunato would never forget the day that his older brother, Ferdinand, went to Smile Town for “personal affairs.” He returned, all bruised and cuts all over his body. He remembered his brother crying, twitching, and saying nightmarish things: “They want us all dead! Those dreadful beings! Oh, the agony! The horrid laughter! Make it stop, please! The laughter! The laughter!” he was confined in the bungalow for days. Fortunato never found out what really happened to his brother. He died a few hours later from a severe nervous breakdown; he was buried in a ditch alongside the silent road.
Fortunato was growing tired, so he decided to lock his horrid thoughts away deep within his conscience and fall asleep. He listened to the percolation of the coffee maker as it dripped into the pot. Tomorrow, he would have to leave Frown City, his beloved home, and venture into the chaotic precincts of Smile Town.

III

The train Fortunato was on traveled at a high velocity. The bumpy
ride made Fortunato feel sick to his stomach. The train, as it entered the crowded station, came to a jolting halt. Fortunato stepped off the train, sick as a dog, into Summit Station—the entrance into Smile Town.
Before he could catch a glimpse of his new surroundings, Fortunato felt his guts travel from his stomach up to his throat. He grasped his stomach in pain. He wobbled off the metallic steps of the train, hunched over, then regurgitated right in front of his shoes. The other passengers threw their noses up at this disgusting, dirty nature. A few, unwisely, stepped into his ugly pool of intestinal contents.
When his blurred and dizzy vision focused, Fortunato could see the features of the grand Summit Station in its fullest detail. The station was arched like an underground tunnel, bright yellowish lights lining the arcs at both ends. The station seemed to be cast in a vagrant, golden glow. The train’s course ran vertical, north to south. There were six platforms in the small station, each leading into a different part of Smile Town. Fortunato was facing Platforms Four, Five, and Six. Each platform was also shaped in an arc, with a security gate at the entrance, guards (dressed in military attire) standing at each. What really disturbed Fortunato, however, were the murals painted on the many walls.
The murals depicted the town’s cruel nature. There were homicidal clowns wielding switchblade knives and axes; there were clowns in military uniforms shooting rifles; clowns were being hung and burned alive; a whole section of Fortunato’s kind being tormented with pies in their faces. Each painting was disturbing to the eye, especially the foreboding smiles upon the faces!
Wooden benches lined the concrete platforms on both sides, so Fortunato decided to take a seat. He would have to wait until the train left before he could cross the track to enter Platform One, which led directly into town. He saw the many different species of clowns walk past him, roaming around the station. He saw females pushing carriages and males smoking cigarettes and painting the walls. These clowns were out of his “league” (Fortunato was considered an inferior, and he knew it). Many he knew well; others were either alien to him, or they ignored him completely. It was rare that a Tramp ventured forth into Smile Town.
The most prominent type of clown, and the first species Fortunato noticed, was the most abundant race in Smile Town. They are called the Pierotts, an elegant, artistic, colorful, bright, and cheery race. They are also the most mischievous group, and the most feared race in Smile Town, yet they have a reputation for being the “most beautiful” of all clowns—a statement bitterly debated over. Their faces are smooth, all facial features covered with white makeup, hidden from view. Many Pierotts wore black eyeliner over their eyes (or sometimes, covered completely); males typically wore black lipstick over their mouths, females wore red. Pierotts are also known for their large, pointed noses. Their clothing, called motley, viewed by many to be extraordinary pieces of art, made the other races fearful and jealous of them. Pierotts wore one-piece “jump suits”, varying in color and material (males wore blues, greens, and yellows; females wore pinks, oranges, and purples). A detachable collar surrounded their skinny necks, made of felt, in the shape of triangles.
Some Pierotts had buttons lining the front of their costumes; others had alternating stripes. All Pierotts wore white gloves to cover their delicate hands (they dread touching anything dirty). But the most prominent feature of the Pierott costume was the hat—the “Pagliacci”—mostly seen worn by the infamous Court Jester (many Pierotts served a king on various occasions). Their shoes were soft, also made of felt, the toes curled at the ends, jiggling with bells each time they walked. The most mischievous carried a wand with a puppet’s head attached for a handle. The mischievous Pierotts were responsible for the cruel murals on Summit Station’s walls.
The second most prominent species to roam Smile Town were the Augustes. They are the most comical of the races of clowns, but not as mischievous as the Pierotts. Their makeup had the flesh-tones of human beings (pink, tan, or reddish-brown); their eye and muzzle areas covered with white makeup to give them “wide-eyed” appearances and goofy smiles. The nose, the most noticeable feature of the Auguste’s face, is large, round, red, and covering nearly a quarter of the face. Unlike the Pierotts, the Augustes are known for their attire, for they have a wide variety, and thus having a reputation for giving local tailors nightmares. Their jackets (mostly worn by males) were very long, oversized, some having tails that dragged as they walked.
The colors and designs of the Auguste race made them rivals of the Pierotts: some wore plaids, stripes, polka dots, or checkers, each pattern different colors and tones (mainly red and yellow). They traditionally wore small derby hats, held to their massive heads by a thin string or wire. Males and females had flaming red or rainbow colored hair. Augustes are the ring-leaders of jokes and comedy, and will not hesitate to throw a pie in another clown’s face. They are heavy smokers (like the Tramps), and they loved to gamble.
The atmosphere wasn’t Fortunato’s type. It wasn’t quiet, peaceful, and gloomy; it was rather too noisy, chaos mixed in. Smile Town was a far cry from Frown City. Fortunato had not seen this much chaos since the epidemic of the century—the day the soybean field died.
Fortunato sat on the cold wooden bench, alone, sighing as if he didn’t exist. The cryptic message from the night before was locked away deep in his conscience. Maybe it was a dream after all, he thought. Then why was he here? It was like something had drawn him here. It was something about this forsaken, blaspheming town that called his name. That damned, stuffed monkey was his ticket to be trapped in this bizarre world. He was not wanted here; yet, he could sense the ghostly apparition of his beloved brother nearby, telling him to stay, and that something good was bound to happen.
“Ease her pain. The clowns are dangerous. The theater is where the shadows lie.”
While Fortunato was thus engaged in his haunted thoughts, trying to resolve his next move, he felt a gloved hand lightly grasp his left shoulder. Fortunato’s breathing stopped short for a split second as shock aroused him. His sad heart pounded against his chest. He slowly placed his trembling hand inside his coat pocket, pulled out a fresh cigar, and faced his intruder.
Fortunato saw an Auguste facing him. The Auguste’s costume was traditional, except his coat was blue, his bulbous shoes red, along with his rainbow-patterned shirt and hair, which was styled into an Afro. His eyes were a pale yellow. His pants yellow with red stripes.
“Hi!” he said, waving his gloved hand. He was carrying three pink balloons in the other, and a rainbow-swirled lollipop was poking out from his coat pocket. “My name’s Rainbow.” His voice was high-pitched, similar to Elmo, only horribly impersonated.
Fortunato stood up, lit his cigar, and faced the smiling, goofy clown. His breath reeks, he thought. And his teeth are green! Damn. Do you know anything about keeping yourself clean?
Look who’s talking, Fortunato.
“My name is Fortunato,” he said, producing his hand.
The clown stared at him in disgust. “What are you doing here? Why do you look so sad? I haven’t seen your kind around here before. Do you need a friend? I have lollipops and balloons!”
“I had received a strange message from an Ignacio Garibaldi. He wishes to see me. Do you know him, happy boy?”
Rainbow’s eyes widened, such in excitement as a little boy wanting a puppy. “Ignacio wants to see you? Are you from around here?”
“No. I’m from Frown City, the next town over.”
“That’s odd,” said Rainbow, taking out his lollipop. “He usually doesn’t send for anyone outside Smile Town.”
“Do you know who he is?” asked Fortunato, frustrated.
The Auguste sucked on his lollipop, as happy as a clown could get.
Fortunato began to grow impatient with the clown. “Look, happy boy, do you know who Ignacio Garibaldi is, or not? If so, lead me to him immediately, so I can get out of this forsaken place, and go back home! If you don’t, I’ll—”
“No need to yell at Rainbow!” said the clown, reluctantly. “Follow me!”
Fortunato, his anger subsiding, followed the strange Rainbow out of Platform Six, happily smoking his cigar as several clowns watched them disappear in the darkness.


IV

Rainbow led Fortunato down a spiral staircase, which seemed to go on for infinity. The room was cool and dark; Fortunato could barely see his own shoes, let alone his hands and sore nose. He could, regardless, see his frosty breath and the smoke from his cigar reflect on Rainbow’s orange flashlight. He could barely even see Rainbow, except his giant silhouette and the balloons. None of this made any sense. Fortunato planned to explore the town on his own accord. Now, this seemingly-insane Auguste was leading him somewhere unknown. Fortunato hoped and prayed that it was the right place.
“Almost there,” blurted Rainbow, suddenly. “Only few more feet.”
The dark room that seemed to travel and circle for miles seemed even creepier than Summit Station or even Smile Town itself! Fortunato still followed Rainbow in hopes to find answers; he suddenly felt as if someone or something was following them.
Rainbow stopped, pointing to a large, arched door, made of wood. “Here’s Ignacio. Go through door. Ignacio waiting. He big jokester!”
“Thanks again,” said Fortunato. “Can I give you anything for your kindness (even though your atmosphere and argyle-style creep me out)? I don’t have much, but who knows what are in these dreadful pockets.” He searched each one carefully, his odor quickly spreading throughout the cool room.
“Cigar!” replied Rainbow, proudly. “Me want cigar!”
Fortunato thumbed through a box which contained them, and offered to light it. Rainbow refused the offer.
“Here, have a balloon! Rainbow has to go bye-bye!”
Fortunato, bewildered, watched as Rainbow walked up the infinite steps, his footsteps echoing in the darkness. He sighed, and opened the door.

V

Rainbow opened the door at the top of the spiral stairwell, and stepped into a long, horizontal hallway. The hallway’s carpeting was colored a grotesque yellow-green; the many doors painted red, the walls a blinding white. A series of circular white lights lined the ceiling, which blinded Rainbow for a few seconds initially. The hallway led to another series of steps sloping down to an unknown location. Rainbow walked to the nearest door to his left, and tied his two remaining balloons to the golden doorknob. He took Fortunato’s cigar from his coat pocket, from behind his melting lollipop. He placed it between his decaying teeth, and walked through the door.
On the other side was a bare room, the walls painted a light pink. Cardboard boxes were stacked high to the ceiling, on both sides, making it hard to barely see the walls. A body-sized mirror, small lights surrounding its silver frame, rested in the center with two protruding “legs.” A stove sat to Rainbow’s right, hidden from view in the corner (he saw the stove, and decided to light his cigar on the black hot-plates). He walked alongside the boxes, and stood in front of the ghostly mirror. He saw his reflection materialize in front of him. He smiled, showing his decaying teeth and the cigar. He pulled a handle protruding from the left of the mirror, his image disappearing, being replaced by the image of Fortunato, who was seated in an armchair, awaiting Ignacio Garibaldi.
“Ha, ha! You stupid idiot!” laughed Rainbow. You’ll be stuck in Smile Town forever! Enjoy Rainbow’s balloon!”
Rainbow dropped to the wooden floor, laughing hysterically, like a madman. Small spurts of water gushed from his small, pink flower on his coat pocket. While Rainbow was busy, the door creaked open, and a gloved hand protruded, holding an oil can. The hand poured a small pool of the black oil on the floor, and then quietly shut the door. Rainbow, pulling himself together, got up, brushed himself off, and pulled the handle to the mirror, which returned to normal. He wiped his eyes dry.
Rainbow took his lollipop from his pocket, and began to lick until it dissolved completely. He threw the white stick behind the mirror. He felt giggles form in his throat. He tried to hold it in; he held it until he could no longer, and then he burst out laughing again. His stomach hurt, and his breathing was wheezy and heavy. He leaned forward and slapped his knee. His laugh was high-pitched and ear-piercing; he laughed like a maniac in a mental institution. When he was able to regain control, he walked forward in quick motions, his laughing slowly dying. His footsteps echoed as his big shoes pounded the floor. His white neck was leaned back, his huge red smile facing the barren ceiling, tears pouring from his eyes. He snickered under his breath. But that horrible, terrifying, ear-piercing laughter stopped suddenly and abruptly—
Rainbow had fallen flat on his face. His bulbous nose absorbed some of the shocking impact, but he still managed to hit his forehead. His eyes quickly flashed open after seeing stars. He saw his nose in the slippery black pool. Uh oh, he thought. Rainbow had accident! Using his hands, he lifted his upper body off the floor. Then, behold, he saw a terrible sight. His yellow eyes bulged. He saw something so hideous, so horrible, it was unspeakable—a walking nightmare beyond imagination—
He saw the color flow out of his body like a river of water.
He panicked. His heartbeat pounded against his massive chest; sweat formed on his head. He stared as the color slowly disappeared from his arms, legs, torso....even his beloved costume! His wild hair turned black along with his coat, gloves, nose, shoes, pants, and all the eye and lip makeup upon his face. His face and socks remained white. The color even faded from his plaid shirt. His baggy pants alternated in black-and-white-stripes. The color was fading rapidly; it formed a pool in front of him. He thought to himself: What’s happening to Rainbow? He felt lightheaded and dizzy. He no longer felt like himself. This new feeling felt like his soul had virtually evaporated from his body.
When the color had stopped flowing from his body, the pool had dried, leaving a blotch of multi-colored paint stained on the wooden floor. Rainbow first looked at his hands, then rose from the ground and faced the mirror. His once-yellow eyes widened even more, and his jaw dropped open. He tried to scream bloody-murder, but no sound, not even a tiny squeak, came from his throat. The sound was also disappearing. He ran around in circles, grasping his head, in a frantic fit.
“My voice!” he lipped. “What happened to my voice?”
Rainbow decided to run and get some help, even from Fortunato at this point. He ran to the red door, and placed his black glove on the knob.
The red door turned white; the golden knob turned a shiny black.
He disengaged his hand for a moment. Maybe this was all a dream? He couldn’t think straight. He burst through the door and out into the hall. He ran up and down the abandoned foyer, still holding his head, trying to scream for help.
“HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP RAINBOW!!!!!”
He stopped in front of the door he ran out of, dropped to his knees, and cried in his palms. His balloons, once majestic pink, were now black as he untied them, holding them in his hand as he whined and sniffed. Rainbow fell to the floor, and pounded his black glove against the fading green carpet.
For the first time of his existence, Rainbow had frowned and cried.

VI

 

 

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Copyright © 2006 Zachary Taylor
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"