Stripes and Checks

Today I Hate: The Usual. Why? It all still exists.
Today I Love: My sister, books, videogames, food, and comics. Why? Pretty much sums up the rest of my day.

  When I was a child I had a strange obsession with clowns. Not real ones, mind you, as I had had a particularly bad experience with a live one that may have resulted in my wetting myself but I don't remember the details. Anyways, the clowns I liked looked more like jesters and my brother and sister had ones that played music when they were younger so I Wanted One. The one I found was from a thrift store; he had a yellow and blue patterned outfit, played music, had ears like a monkey, and only one eye. The eye problem was solved by hot gluing a googly eye on which, while restoring his ability to see properly did nothing to help his somewhat unnerving appearance. I still have the clown/jester to this day and yesterday he played a trick on me.

  I was getting ready to go to my usual appointments but all was halted when I couldn't find my second stripey arm warmer. The day before I had taken them out of my bag and set them on the box-cum-table in my room but when I went to retrieve them there was only the one. This annoyed me because I wear them when it's sunny out to keep from burning so I proceeded to take apart my whole room, turning over things that could be turned over, shaking out things that could be shaken out, and looking under things that were to large to turn over and/or shake out. I was running out of time and gave up the search when I remembered I have a pair of lace arm warmers. I snatched one of those on my way out but not before doing a last once over of my room with the same result.

  Late last night after I got back I moved a stuffed bear, the aforementioned stuffed clown, and a pillow from my chest where they sit to the box-cum-table. This morning I moved them back to their proper place and after I had done so noticed that tucked behind the stuffed clown's pointed hat was my balled up stripey arm warmer. There was no possible way this could have gotten on him or the chest but I gratefully accepted his find and placed the arm warmer back with its companion. When I turned back to the clown the lacey arm warmer that I had not worn the day before was balled up near his arm. Again, there was no possible way this could have gotten on him as it had been sitting on my stocking chest far below where I had placed him. I decided he was now Fucking With Me but in a goodhearted manner and so smiled at hist jest and placed the arm warmer back in it's proper spot, happy to have them back.

  A little later during breakfast I told my sister this story.

  "Well," she replied, "That's what clowns do. They fuck with you."

  "I know," I said, "It's all part of living with a clown.

  This particular clown is one that she has never been fond of and insists he is always watching her. She looked at him and squinted.

  "Okay," she said, turning back to me. "But if he starts coming into my room and stealing my stuff, I'm locking my door."