There are no reasons for clowns to be a part of my life


Clowns – I hate them. HATE. Probably because I fear them – how do you trust someone under all that hair and makeup. Don’t get me started on the red nose.

I know I’m not the only one. There are millions of us who suffer from coulrophobia: fear of clowns.

I’ve written about it a ton of times here, like when I read Stephen King’s It in the third grade. Yay – parenting skills!

I crept around my parents’ house for about a decade, sure that Pennywise was just waiting in the heating vent to kill me.

So guess what I did last week?  Started rereading It again. The lights in the house have not been turned off in six days and I make sure I’m never walking around the house alone.

This week I learned that there is no method to my madness and:

The interwebs is full of stupid things that I will eventually click on:


4 thoughts on “There are no reasons for clowns to be a part of my life

  1. how is this for creepy- growing up my parents got this terrifying clown painting on black velvet. that thing scared the bejesus out of me.
    where did they hang it when we moved when i was teen? right outside my bedroom door- in the darkest hallway of a victorian house.

  2. How do you even get through the day without curling up in a ball and crying from the horrible memories? Seriously. That’s messed up.

    1. all of the “kids ” hated that thing. I think it ended up on a bonfire somewhere. I’m going to ask around!lol

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