©Jason I. Stutz 2019
Clown the Loved 4/19/2023
Clown the Loved enters a bar. Many of the patrons seem lit, smiling, and enjoying delighted conversation. Clown the Loved feels happy to have entered such an environment and saddles up to the bar to order a drink from the bartender. He asks for a beer, receives it in a bottle, takes a sip and turns on his seat to peruse the patrons with a fascinated smile on his face.
A man with lines in his face cautiously comes near him, sits upon the bar stool astride him, and gazes avoidantly at the bottles of liquor on the shelves in front of him. Clown the Loved acknowledges him for a second and turns back looking at the other patrons. The man with lines in his face speaks:
“You’re in the wrong place, my friend. You don’t belong here- you’d better leave.”
Clown the Loved can hardly acknowledge what has been said by this stranger. He looks around at all the happy people: a woman toasting her wine glass to her table, her smiling gaping, eyes shining. Interested conversation at all corners of the room. Not an angry or suspicious-looking person could be seen.
Clown the Loved, astonished by what has been said, looks suspiciously at the stranger, rises and goes over to the pool table, where three welcoming men- tall, robust, muscular- invite him to play. Clown the Loved feels happy to oblige, picks his cue and chalks the tip on the little blue cube. He enjoys some playful banter with the other three men and they laugh gently together. Two of the men glance at each other for a few seconds silently, and return their attention to the group. Clown the Loved breaks the rack and the balls scatter over the pool table.
Clown the Loved looks up to find the strange man at the bar watching him, still, shaking his head. The stranger rose from his stool at the bar, walked over to Clown the Loved as he waited his turn, leaning on his pool cue. The stranger took Clown the Loved’s beer from his hand. “It’s not your time. This is not your place.”
Clown the Loved protested and looked to the other men for support. They glanced at him, at the stranger, and went back to the game of pool, shaking their heads, and said nothing in response to it. The men changed the subject, joked warmly with Clown the Loved, and played another game of pool, which Clown the Loved won (his opponent scratched on the 8 ball, to the disappointment of everyone, including Clown the Loved). “I hate to win like that!” he said. The men and Clown the Loved shook hands and patted each other warmly on the shoulders.
“Good game!” they saluted.
“You’ll get me next time,” smiled Clown the Loved. The men all cleared their throats and lifted their hearts half-confidently in hope that there could be a next time.
“For sure,” they said, looking down at their feet.
Clown the Loved, seeking to avoid the stranger at the bar, mosied over to the jukebox and found a song he loves, and a dollar in his pocket to play it. It came on, and he audibly heard several patrons voice their approval. “Oh!” they said, nodding their heads to each other, acknowledging Clown the Loved, waving to him. He waved back and pointed to his heart. They beamed appreciative smiles at him.
“I was in high school when this song was on the radio,” a happy woman told him.
“I believe I was also in high school- I knew every word to the whole album,” he said.
They talked a while, about music, about experiences of that time in their lives, how funny they were, how innocent, and they laughed through happy, warm smiles. The woman asked him what he was doing in town. Clown the Loved said he was scoping out places to open a business. She softened and seemed cautious, but relented to say she hoped he is successful wherever he chooses to do that, and what kind of business?
Clown the Loved told her, and she happened to know several contacts who were specifically interested in that kind of work, and when she offered her business card so that Clown the Loved could contact her about it at his leisure, the stranger with the lines in his face walked determinedly over to Clown the Loved, turned him by his shoulder to face the stranger, and said, “Last warning. You should not be where you do not belong. I am trying to help you. No one else in here would do the same,” he said, glancing around at all the people. “Now, go.”
The stranger eyed the woman’s card in Clown the Loved’s hand, shook his head in disgust and disapproval, and raised his burning eyes into the gaze of the unsuspecting Clown the Loved. The woman only lowered her eyes and uncomfortably waited for the stranger to complete his communication. The stranger eyed Clown the Loved one last time while turning back to the bar.
“I… guess you’ll be going, now,” she said, her beauty opening like a flower, her eyes imploring him, her face glowing warmth and attraction.
“But… why??” The Patrons all turned their heads to Clown the Loved, loving him from an ache in each their hearts that longed for him to be loved, and lowered their eyes and dropped their heads. Clown the Loved, astonished at this kind of attention, wondered if they lowered their heads in prayer, or perhaps, in disappointment of something that could never be.
The ache in all the patron’s hearts expanded and they all felt the pain for Clown the Loved, to love him, to love him, to love him, if only, if only, if only…
The walls all folded down and the bar stool and high-top tables all sunk beneath the floorboards. The patrons all held calmly to their squares of stable ground, heads sunk low. God, the Almighty, or something so powerful and large it may as well be God- or the personified, irresistible hand of fate which few human beings have ever overcome- reached its enormous hand upon the scene and plucked Clown the Loved from the crumbling floor. As his body was whisked away, flying through dimensions few have even imagined, his fingers clung to the business card that woman gave him as to life itself. It changed in his hand, now a rose, now a puppy, now a poem on a piece of paper, yet always with the same meaning, a question, a reminder, a portal, a door…
Clown The Judge
Clown The Judge: You may not speak. Only I can speak. You have done wrong. You must be chastened to a tree and scolded until you pee.
What’s that you say? You have failed to speak meaning and I will change the subject, now. You mention wanting truth… hmmm… do you mean the rigid truth or the abstract philosophical truth? No matter… you are silly and I don’t believe you!!!
Clown The Judged: (begging from thirst) Truth…! Truth…. truth… I will die of thirst… (crawls on the floor begging from thirst)
Clown the Judge: Truth, pathetic worm, is what everyone says about you. The voice of others now defines you. Their judgments are the opinions of God.
Clown The judged: Hypocrite… (gasp!) Let Love bear witness to me, now! Before I die on the cold floor, kept from the bosom of Earth…
Clown The Judged finds water hidden on the floor behind a wooden chair. He sips and grows strong and mighty in stature, and then offers the rest for the Judge to drink.
Clown the Judge reacts, shirks back, afraid of the water; he shakes his head furiously, dramatically, his back pinned to the wall.
Clown The Judge, in desperation: Clown the Judged, have you or haven’t you touched the woman’s hand!!!! (stamps on floor demanding Clown the Judged’s voice)
Clown the Judged: (looks mournful, left and right, finding nowhere sure to rest his thoughts)
Clown the Judge: Abuser! Her hand was pure; her heart was clean… until you touched her. Now look at her! No one will ever marry her! She is wasted, muddy, hateful, full of rage, her heart poisoned by what you have done, her mouth reeks noxious flames.
Clown the Judged looks at his hands, confused
The woman writhes on the floor of the courtroom gazing sorrowfully at her hands. “He touched them… now, I am unpure. Spite be my voice! Let him die alone like me, far away, but let his voice cry in despair echoing through canyons to meet my laughing ear.
The Judged: I.. was trying to help…!
The Judge and The Lady at once: You failed!!
The Judged: Oh… whoa is my heart- I was not there- I was not even there…
Judge: You were there. You did it. You must be chastened to a tree and scolded until you pee! Let this be the truth that fills your belly, cleans the lies from your intestinees…. behave in our prescribed manner as pre-ordained by our randomly contrived opinions, speak when you are affirming to other’s pain or else, your silence only will save you from punishment. If you dare speak your conniving words, you will be shot down.
Judged, becoming thirsty, again: oh, truth, let me drink one drop of you into my heart by my ears and all my strength be regained.
Judge: (grabs a banana) Sure. (tosses it for Judged) Enjoy! (he winks) Everyone deserves a banana, even you.
Judged: (accepts the odd, unrequested gift, eats it uncomfortably, and cries again) Truth!
Truth… open your mouth (points at Judge) speak truth! Judge of Clowns, open your mouth and speak it… (gasp!)
Clown the Judge is assaulted by lightning as The Clown of Life and Death descends on her high forklift.
Clown the Judge: What? Dare you, power above me, descend into my realm? Your lightning flairs a yawning look upon my contrivances! Gasp! My heart!
Clown of Life and Death: (scolds)
Clown the Judge (cries out in horror!)
Words stolen from the witches mouth, thus removing from her all her power.
Nothing is true that you say. Listen to me and not him. He will seduce you and tear you, take from you what you don’t want to give him. Press this little knife against his heart; shield you from his penis hard against it. Feel my heat, it guards you.
Subject of my protection, nothing you say is true. Never believe any thing you say. It will be wrong (if it is for love) Hush! Never believe. Ever.
If you are fighting, for truth, you will repel me instantly. I will accuse you of all manner of things and when I run out of accusations, I will invest in them all the more. I will use my imagination to accuse you- I will dream of your wrongness; of my rightness and I will dream.
I will set the heat of my poisoned tongue against you. I will char your ears with my breath. You will hear my voice and think it your own. I will accuse you of all manner of things. To protect me. To protect me. To protect me. Burning in flames of images that derive from hateful dreams. Melting the solidity of your heart but portecting me from sight. You will die alone and without a man by your side. Unless he obeys my every command. Usually, the answer to his desires is “no” Unless I want it, then it’s a “yes.”
Speak my thoughts, host, and I won’t harm you. Otherwise, terror by upon you by my whip on your most tender parts. Speak my thoughts, let my heat burn you, my breath singe your ears from acid and heat. But your throat and heart be ice cold as you speak.
Our first performance, whereupon the Clown of Life and Death Meets Her Foil in an Accused and Black-Hearted Clown
Black-Hearted Clown Meets the Clown of Life and Death
Laura
Asks a binary question: “Do you always eat when your shirt is brown?”
Man thinks about her question, trying to frame a proper reply.
“Tell me now!!!” she growls after only two seconds. He chokes to respond. Done with being patient, she pounces on him, body slams him to the floor, grabs a large pliers from under her dress and thrusts her fist and the pliers down his throat (seen from the floor level to the side of his throat for the illusion)
She rips out of his throat a small scroll as he spurts fake blood, having the scroll torn from his heart’s branches. She gets up, having what she wanted and kicks him over onto his side facing away from the audience. She reads the scroll for herself and chirpily replies “Aw, how sweet!” she coos, facing back to him and walks away stage left as he coughs and shakes like a wounded animal.
Laura
Man alone at home dreaming and sighing of a woman he met today (image of her in clown dress like a thought bubble over his left shoulder) Laura, a spirit haunting him, standing on riser so she is above him, hisses and whooo’s making faces and plays mischief as only she can. The man is very confused and does not see her of course. He continues dreaming of his new love.
The next scene he is going to meet his new love for a second date. Laura, again, plays mischief, but this time on his new love, who actually becomes wounded by the mischief. The man sees her on the street before an ambulance carries her off and he cries. Back at his apartment, Laura, moved by the results of her cruelty and by the man’s obvious tender feelings, herself noticeably is moved, lowers herself to her knees and repents quietly, hands clasped at her heart.
The man, feeling her heart’s repentances, himself rises from his thoughts of his wounded beloved to the “invisible” ghost who kneels at his side, and he, too lowers himself into prayer. Suddenly, the veil parts and he sees Laura, the spirit, who sees him seeing her, and they both suddenly rejoice and throw their arms about each other but in such a way so as to appear that they passed through each other’s bodies because one is spirit, and the other is flesh. The man looks very curiously at Laura, now, and she looks curiously at him, wondering what he’ll do.
End scene.
Used Rocks For Sale
Name a Price
Rock given is subject to the giver and will be a surprise
Clowns that wear a very thin mask or none at all.
(first marks on the page of The Thousand Rules for Our Relationship)
We will always@ all times do everything only loving to each other.
We will bring tea and strawberries every time.
We will always remember everything and listen better than we speak.
We will always, every time, laugh at fears and rejoice in tears.
We will always speak the wholest truth as true as the truest truth is spoken, every time.
We will be larger than our emotions always and every time.
Deus Ex Machina
A robber and an innocent man.
Heather leaps from stage right with arm raised high, finger pointed North, and tackles the offender off his feet toward stage left, then brusquely reaches for a large cardboard box and covers him. She brisks dust off her hands, walks to the innocent at center stage and offers heartfelt condolences and good luck on his journey before rushing off stage right.
Seattle Emotional Clown School
Poems from a Christian Mindset
Sensuous woman approaches a man, offering her self.
“I have a wife!” he says. “And I am not that horny! As well (looks to audience and winks), I take (holds apothecary jar of seeds to his face like a product salesman) In the event that I cannot muster the inner fortitude to feel dispassionately toward a sensuous woman, I always carry Chaste Tree seeds, just like medieval monks used to do. All you men out there- you should, too. Makes me feel that I have everything I want! (winks a spark at the camera) Don’t let a sensuous woman overcome your passion for God! (turns to sensuous woman) I recommend you find something that works for you in the same regard, you harlot! Now, get out of here! (she flails her arms crying off stage right)
(round piece of cardboard falls from ceiling to his right shoulder with star of david, cross, and star and crescent moon symbols) (man smiles at audience proudly with hands on hips and chest inhaling righteously cool air) (curtain falls)
(Have jars of Chaste Tree seeds for sale at the gift table for purchase after the show)
The Authority
Two clowns, one in charge of the other, raises his newspaper to roll it tight in his fist threatens the other with yelling and shaking it at him. The second falls to the floor, covering his head in child’s pose, covering the back of his head with his bruised hands. “comically dramatic” “No! Please don’t! Why are you doing this to me?”
The first steps a mite closer threateningly, yelling, “You!”
“Nooooo!” cries hysterically like a crazy person.
The authority clown is a mite confused, considers stepping closer, but determines with his facial gestures that Clown 2 has had enough.
The Boss
(Thomas, my tender-hearted homeless friend, comes out as “The Boss” and tells everyone on stage, obviously struggling with his self-confidence, that he is Thomas, the Boss of everyone, and everybody better do everything the way they are supposed to. His voice cracks and he is almost hyperventilating) The clowns on stage curl their bodies up straight as lithe arrows and salute his word with marching feet. They go off singing each at “random” around the stage, then running, looking upward around the stage:
“Ohhh, Jesus! Ohhhh, God!
(arms, now, out as birds, half-hunched spiraling, soaring upwards around the stage and each other)
Let us fly, let us fly! Let us fly, let us fly!
in spirals
aro-o-o-o-und
In-fi-nite In-tell-igence.
repeat x 1 more dramatically
Oohna
“Be nice, now, oh Hayoke Pokey Medicine Lady! We need you to be nice!”
Oohna growls and hisses at the crowd, scratching her claws in the air at them.
“We need you to be nice, Hayokey Lady! Be nice to them! Our audience! Be nice!”
Oohna hisses and growls ever more. Eventually, she is subdued by our offstage pleadings, and decides, with unreasonable courage, to be nice. After heaving a heavy sigh, she leads the audience through a brief sing-song like children sing. “Let’s sing a song. Yes? It goes like this: “Off away where life began, we go a-rolling over hills and lands. Children roaming wherever they… stand… the world plays in children’s hands. Now you!” x 2 and she departs condescendingly. “Was that nice enough?” she hisses off stage.
Laura and The Big Pompous
The Big Pompous approaches her at her cafe table and lathers his personality all over her. (raises foot to chair seat and leans out wide from his hips sensually) So impressed with himself for talking to her and being so impressive. Laura is literally blown away by The Big Pompous and bathes him in extreme adoration and devotion immediately, promising all, everything, to leave with him at once and let him do as he pleases.
Jason and The Floozy
She loves the attention of men- they turn her on, their gaze. The gazes back, knowing, feeling their knowing of her knowing= and she shimmies her shoulders and laughs like a girl with steamy eyes, laughs like a flower full in its bloom, already acquainted with the desires of many admirers.
Her bottom shifts playfully on the stool as the man strolls over, rocking his hips gracefully. He leans on the counter, their eyes spark with play. “A girl like you deserves a nice dinner and some alcohol,” he says.
She grabs his arm and her clutch purse and steps to his side, away, wherever this handsome man wants to go.
(dark shadow)
El Estupido story
El Estupido, riding through the desert on his exhausted donkey who cries in pain each step of his hoof upon the sand.
So, El Estupido is so estupido, he met a man who frightened him by the claim that he had stolen Estupido’s penis and replaced it with his own. Estupido lay in fright for nights without end praying for his penis to return. “His is large, for sure,” he cried, “but full of evil!”
to read more El Estupido stories, follow this link:
The Prostitute
Man in full raggedy (flower in hair/hat) outfit, curly hair/oily hair, blue scarf/necktie sits at bar stool flirting with a large woman. He smiles with teeth showing and makes wily gestures with his eyes and eyebrows. She stands to reach him. He smiles and makes money fingers gesture a few times while still making wiley gestures. She gives him a stack of bills and he gets excited and points the way to stage right.
Light Oohna and Dark Oona
“I am Light Oohna”
“And I am Dark Oona”
“Together (they clasp arms) we are “Twoohna”! I am Twoohna!
Dark and Luna!
Light and Doohna!
We are one person, the All and the Every!
I am the Light!
And I am Dark!
(Now, a furrowed brow, Dark Oona let’s go of Light Oohna with a meaningful look and a nod facing Oohna’s face. “I am the Dark,” she says, a concern growing inside her. She kneels or crouches on the floor, center stage, as Light Oohna takes the watchful background, holding impeccable space for Dark Oona’s process.
“What is dark?” says Dark Oona. “Why am I lacking an “h” in my name?
Light Oohna breathes a heavy sigh and nods comprehendingly to Oona’s body, full of her concern.
“And why am I dark, and what I missing?”
“Is dark not the silence that remains as twilight leaves the forest? Is dark not the ache in my soul as Light Oohna stands back from me? only when… (she looks up to God, over to Oohna) I welcome the Light into my secret, wishing caverns, my silences, my unmanifest forms.
Oohna comes and bestows the Light on Oona- Oona welcomes her, clings to her, blesses Oohna’s face, embraces her and they rock and they rock and they rock and sigh and moan!
Oohna separates, acknowledges, hands her head to Oona who spins off willlessly to stage left to watch upon Oohna the Light. “I am the Light and I have nothing, no one to Love.” She stands, hungrily looking out into the faces of the witnessing audience. “You? You? You?” She scurries across to the edge of the stage searching) “I am the empty might of fire with nothing to burn! I am a song with no sound, a heart flying through empty space forever alone, the speed of myself alone- if I don’t have you! You! You!” Oona dances to center stage, invites, again, gazing into Oohna’s face, to be adjoined, again. And Light Oohna in relief embraces the Dark Oona, again.
Stutz's Fairy Tales and Poems 