Clown in the Moonlight Read Online Free Page A

up.   I know him the second I see him, even before they call out his name.   He basks in his minor glory, his dirty wild hair hanging in his dirty wild eyes.   He's tripping so hard on something he can barely stay on his feet.   Or maybe he's just high on his celebrity turn at murder.  
    I step inside.   I notice he's carrying Anton LaVey's The Satanic Bible in his back pocket.   He leaves the paperback hanging about halfway out so everybody can spot the title.   Kids point.   Kids giggle.   Van Gogh stares in his straw hat, his hacked ear covered.   Baphomet, the Goat of Hell, glares back at everyone who looks.   Several kids turn away even as several other punks step closer.  
    From Ricky's jacket pocket hang a few bags of PCP.   I can see why Lowers reached out and snatched the drugs.   It's bait.   It's what Ricky wants you to do.
    Gwen gives him a loving hug.   So does Prill.   So does the pizza guy.   So does Linda.   There's real emotion in her clench.   She's never grabbed me like that.   For a second I'm envious.   My mother used to hold me like that while my fever spiked and I raved.  
    My mom, she'd press her lips to my brow and say, "You won't always be sick."
    But I have been, and so's Ricky.   His frenzied gaze roves the room.   His expression shifts depending on who he sees.   Lust, hate, greed, jealousy, resentment, even some true loving sentiment.   He has true friends here among his former classmates.   There's trust, laughter, long histories, shared fate.  
    When his eyes fall to me his face goes slack.   For an instant he looks like a child, innocent and full of wonder.   He tilts his head in surprise.   He frowns in puzzlement.   I'm probably doing the same thing.
    He begins to move to me before he remembers who he is.  
    Who he is, what he's done, what his plans are, and exactly how he's going to wind up.   I start towards him.   The throng gets in the way.   That's their only purpose, to hold the two of us apart.
    In Ricky's honor, the music shifts.   They put on heavy metal.   The lyrics are as inane as their conversation.   Hair band front men in eyeliner and headbands scream about Lucifer, Abomination, Leviathan, Pandemonium, the arch-dukes of the inferno.   Guys around me mimic their heroes, make the sign of the horns, hold up their lighters, and sing along.   More weed comes out.   More acid, hash, mescaline.   Somebody's made a liquor run.   My mouth waters for whiskey.   The house fills with the sweet stink of burning mary jane, and my head lightens a touch.
    Linda is very stoned.   We make out in the corner for a few minutes.   Then she takes me by the wrist and leads me down the hall to Gwen's bedroom.   Gwen is already there, taking sips from a bottle of tequila, smoking a joint, naked in bed.

6.
     
    I t's what I expect.   They fight over me in a silly, endless, half-hearted, territorial war of attrition.   They treat me like a pack mule that isn't moving up the canyon trail quickly enough.   They beat my back.   They dig their nails in, bite, wrench me one way and then the other.   They straddle and pound and chomp.   I'm bleeding from a dozen tiny wounds.   This has nothing to do with me.   After a while they begin to go at each other.   It starts off mean and eventually becomes tempestuous.   It would be a turn-on if it wasn't so predictable.   They love themselves, and they're so much alike that they love each other, in a self-hatred kind of way.   They're ravenous.   I watch for a while.   I participate when they let me.   They command each other to do filthier and filthier acts.   They demand I abuse them.   I comply.   I pulse.   I grow charred.   I can't degrade them deeply enough for their satisfaction.   Prill is at the door, listening.   He kicks at the knob twice but the lock holds.   What did he expect?   How could he not know?   The girls devour me.   I clamp my eyes shut and watch the shadows move on