Who doesn’t love a clown? Okay, a lot of people actually hate clowns. In fact, in some corners of the haunt community, clowns are considered (gasp) cringe. But, that negativity is misguided. After all, the harlequin became a haunted house staple for good reason, and that reason is that the clown archetype affords a variety of looks and personality types. One Sunday, each October, Deranged sends in the clowns!
By the time we had arrived at Deranged, a steady drizzle had already blanketed the landscape. We would soon discover that our journey through the wooded trail would be sodden and muddy.
Inside Star Fall Mall, we were menaced by a clown armed with a baseball bat that had been wrapped in barbed wire. That boy had malice in his eyes and giggled incessantly. I had a sudden flashback to Capcom’s 2006 hit, Dead Rising. Under the circumstances, we skipped the discount sales and hightailed it out of the mall and passed GreeNo Industries.
We descended into the dank sewers which offered a brief respite from the elements, but that shelter from the rain came at a price. Immediately, we were confronted by the garishly blue, inimitable, Nox! Ever the chatterbox, Nox cracked wise, but ole boy may’ve gotten more than he bargained for when he invited me to jiggle the oversized, fluffy balls that adorned his costume.
We left Nox to his ecstasy and forged deeper in the woods of Deranged where we traversed a ramshackle carnival before happening upon Mr. Sinister’s Dungeon of Terror! Much to our dismay the genial Mr. Sinister was nowhere to be found. Had he succommbed to Kalloway’s pressure campaign and joined the cult? Had Mayor Conwell disappeared the devilish gentleman?! Instead, we were roughly greeted by some crude barbarian named Kumbo the Clown! Kumbo barreled through a set of bars and barked some foolishness. A name tag upon his shirt read: #Recast the Clown.
Beyond the Haunted Hills Cemetery we would encounter all manner of harlequins — there was one with multiple personalities, a simpleton named Georgie, and even a downtrodden, hobo clown named Droopy who implied that his name had nothing to do with his demeanor and more to do with his — well, let’s just say that time and gravity had done ole Droopy no favors.
The rain poured down steadily as we came upon the docks where we encountered Tootz, a chain-smoking, former dancer at Deja Voodoo! Tootz regaled us with some lively conversation and although she promised to lead us to some “Girls! Girls! Girls” we found ourselves meandering through the damp of a harlequin sausage-fest!
Stung by Tootz’ callous deceit, we forged ahead through a gutted gas station and finally came to Gourdan Family Farms. There a techno-colored clown celebrated the Herp N’ Derp Brother’s Rodeo all by his lonesome. Inside the farmhouse, a displeased old lady blamed us for all the racket and then cut me off mid-sentence when she unceremoniously chucked a handful of confetti onto my head!
Soaked, as I was, the confetti clung to my face, hair, and jacket. These clowns had no respect, no class! Outside of the house, the rodeo clown whooped it up once more, but disappeared before the old lady discovered the true source of all the noise. A final stop beside a barn revealed a clown who had recently escaped prison. He had a strange accent and an apparent taste for raw pumpkin guts.
Cold and wet, we left the trail and bid farewell to the clowns of Deranged until next year’s colorful carnage begins anew.
